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elisysd · 7 months

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10. Way Down We Go

Masterlist - Previously - Next

Chapter soundtrack: Way down we go - KALEO

Stepping out of the taxi, in front of the airport, Julia took a deep breath. She was supposed to be excited. She was flying to Baku, in Azerbaijan, for one of her favorite races of the season.She always had good memories there from the time when she was going, with her mom to watch her dad racing there. He knew the corners like the back of his hands and she did too. Baku had always been her favorite track to race on her dad’s simulator. She liked the narrow corners and how there was no room for mistakes. It was fast and precise. She knew that qualifying was going to be important there as, like on every city track, it was hard to overtake.

She dragged her suitcase to the check in before heading towards the security and then the gate where her dad was waiting for her. Although she was dreading to see him, she had hoped he would be alone and was slightly disappointed to notice Elijah and Martin were there. She didn’t want either of them to witness her conversation with her dad. When she saw him on the tarmac, she felt like a little girl all over again. He was looking at her with his blue green eyes and she swore she could feel a certain coldness in them, one that she was never the one to receive. She gulped and braced herself.

“No boyfriend around?” Charles asked.

“Dad…please can we talk about it?”

“I’m listening.”

“I’ve never meant to hide it from you. It happened so fast and I’m still not sure if we can put a label on what’s going on between Ethan and I. I didn’t want to say anything to anyone before being absolutely sure of what I was feeling.”

He nodded but his jaw was still tense.

“I want to see him.”

“Dad…”

“I just want him to know that I’m not giving my daughter away to the first guy that comes around. He will have to prove he is worthy of you.”

“And here we go… What are you going to do?”

“A karting race? Him against I. He wins, I back off and leave you alone. I win, he will feel my breath on his neck for the foreseeable future.” Charles explained, a proud grin on his face.

“You know he has no chance against you.”

Charles shrugged and smiled brightly. He was proud of his idea. And even if Julia hated how her dad was acting all over protective with her, she couldn’t help but smile. She would pay good money to witness something like that. They boarded the plane and Julia decided to sit at the back, wanting a little peace and quiet to work on some data and prepare the best setup for the cars. She put her headphones on and as she was logging in on her laptop, she saw a shadow towering over her. Martin was there, two coffees in his hands, one she assumed for him and the other for her.

“Cappuccino?” he asked with a sweet smile on his face.

“Is it oat milk?”

“Well, no.”

“I’m lactose intolerant. Sorry. But my dad is not, I’m sure he could use a coffee.”

She was not. She loved coffee and she hated oat milk. But even if she hated the idea to admit it, Ethan was right. She couldn’t get too close to other drivers especially when there might be underlying feelings other than friendship in the mind of the Ferrari's driver.Entertaining whatever there could be between them was a bad idea and a very dangerous game to play. She knew that it took Martin by surprise, probably did he expect a warm smile and thank you. But even if she appreciated Martin, she had to set some limits. She refused to look at him, knowing full well that she wouldn’t be able to resist the urge to tell him to sit down and to talk to her. She wanted to be his friend but she also knew that people around them and the media would never interpret it that way. Better not risk anything, she thought. She put back her headphone on and tried to forget the world around her.

On the opposite side of the plane, Charles couldn’t help but look at his daughter, so engrossed in her work as if nothing could phase her. She was growing up. She was not his little girl anymore. He was proud of her; she was everything he had ever hoped she would be. She didn’t need him anymore, she didn’t need his approval and admitting it felt like ripping his heart open. He was not ready for that. And he knew that his behavior was only making her drift further away from him. Guilt was eating him inside, he already had a difficult relationship with his son, he didn’t want to let down his daughter. So he did what he usually did when he felt unsure about something and needed help, he called his wife.

“I was wondering how long you would take before calling me to complain.” she said to him after he finished sharing his thoughts about Julia and Ethan.

“I’m not complaining. You know how much Julia’s happiness is important to me. I want what’s best for her.”

“She has a boyfriend Charles, you act like your world is falling apart. Let her live her life.”

“I can’t help but feel the need to protect her, Lya.”

“She is not a kid anymore, Charles! You don’t have to protect her from all the cruel things on earth anymore.” she argued.

“She is my little girl, Lya. She is my baby.”

“And she will always be. Always. You will always be the first person she will come to whenever there is something wrong. You are her dad. But you have to let her grow up.”

“I don’t want her to grow up. I’m not ready to let her grow up.”

“I’m not either. It scares me. But the good thing is, we can be scared together.”

“I don’t like Ethan.”

“You like Ethan. You don't like the fact that he likes Julia.”

“True,” he confessed after a short while.

After a few hours of flight, Julia was happy to exit the plane as soon as it landed. She needed to escape, she needed some air, she needed to be far away from her dad, and far away from the guilty feeling she was getting when she was near him. So as soon as she left the Baku airport and said her goodbyes to the Ferrari’s Team Principal and teammates, her head was set on trying to make her mind forget all about the guilt and the lies. Her plan was to drop her suitcases in her room, put on some gym clothes and go for a run. But feeling how hot Baku was, she had to rethink it. She wouldn’t last ten minutes under the bright sun. Thankfully her hotel had a gym that had a view on the whole city. It was almost six in the evening and she was not expecting to see anyone. So when she stepped in the room and saw that it was occupied she almost wanted to go back to her room. It was not for nothing that she hated going to the gym and was avoiding it whenever she could. She hated the judgemental look some people could give and she hated having to think about giving space on the machine to others. Running was a way to quiet the voices in her head and to calm her down. Gyms were stressing her out.

She stayed in the opening of the door trying to see if the guy that was working out was going to leave at some point. She didn’t take long before recognising Ethan. Of course, who else would work out without a shirt on. She rolled her eyes and shook her head more by reflex than true annoyance. A part of her couldn’t help but stare at him as he was doing core strength exercises, all his muscles contracting. He was good looking, Julia couldn’t deny it. Being a professional athlete definitely changed his body for the better. Julia suddenly felt hot and it had nothing to do with the outside temperature. And as if he felt her presence, Ethan finally looked up and straight in her direction. She felt herself blush.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer Joolsie.” he finally said with a half-smile.

“That line is outdated, you know. It has been unanimously decided by the entire women population.”

He silently laughed and took a step towards her, looking her straight in the eyes as if he was the hunter and she was the prey. He bent down and Julia could feel his breath on her. She slightly gasped when she felt his left arm brushing past hers.

“Can you move Joolsie? I need to take my water bottle.”

It was enough to pull her out of her trance. She moved to the side and headed for the treadmill as far as possible of where Ethan was working out. She still felt his gaze on her and she was sure he was smirking. She could feel it. She tied her hair tighter and started to run. If she closed her eyes hard enough she could almost swear that she was alone. But it was without counting on the idiotic Maserati’s driver who decided that annoying her was much more interesting than sticking to his workout routine. She felt his presence next to her and soon, as she opened her eyes and stared in the window’s reflection, she saw Ethan running next to her, his gaze fixed on her, grinning.

“Don’t you have other exercises to do?”

“I need to work on my cardio.” he shrugged.

She shook her head and tried to focus again on her run but it was pointless, with Ethan next to her it was almost impossible. She moved on to some stretching as Ethan took place, again, next to her. He was in a mood to annoy her.

“Julia?” he asked after a while.

“What do you want?”

“I need to do some lifts.”

“Go ahead.”

“Can I lift you?”

She almost tripped and fell. She looked at him, an eyebrow arched and saw that he was completely serious.

“I need some challenge.” he added as it was totally normal.

“No. You are not going to lift me.” she simply answered.

“Lovely how you seem to think that I’m giving you the choice.”

She didn’t have the time to reply that Ethan caught snaked an arm around her waist and the other behind her knees and effortlessly lifted her as Julia tried her best to wiggle her way out of his grip.

“Strengthen your core Julia for fuck’s sake! I’m going to fall!” warned Ethan.

“I’ve never asked for that! Let me down!”

“Stop moving so much! Stay still.”

And what was bound to happen, happened. Ethan lost his balance and his grip on the young woman. As he tried to soften their inevitable fall, he felt his right elbow hit Julia in her ribs, eliciting a yelp from her. They were both on their asses, now and Julia was grimacing, rubbing her left side in order to soothe the pain. Ethan felt immediately guilty and was quick to get up, stretching his hand so Julia could take it. She was still holding her left side and Ethan gulped. It was a stupid idea and a very good way to introduce himself as Julia’s boyfriend to her dad. Sure, he would score points with the Ferrari’s team principal that way.

“I’m sorry Julia. I didn’t think…”

“Yeah! Maybe that’s your problem, Ethan. You don’t think and you don’t listen. Shit, that hurts.”

“I think I have some cream against bruises, in my bag.” he said as he ruffled in his sport bag, desperately trying to find what he was searching for and letting out a victory cry when he finally got a hold of it.

“I think you did enough.”

“Take it, apply it as soon as possible if you want to prevent the bruise from appearing. I always have one tube with me. My mom insists on it and it’s very effective you’ll see.” he explained, apologizing once again.

Julia ended up taking it and thanked him before leaving the room. She was mortified and the only thing she wanted was to crawl in her bed and forget the incident.

The weekend was going to be really hot, Julia thought, arriving early in the paddock for the Free Practices, a box of pastries under her arm. They were her dad’s favorites and she hoped that it would make him less angry and disappointed in her. She made her way towards the Ferrari’s hospitality, in search of her dad. It didn’t matter that she had her Skoda’s jacket, the team let her through without questions and Julia thought that she really had to talk to her dad about that. Even if everybody knew she was his daughter, she was still from another team and she shouldn’t have easy access to the garage. She found her dad talking with the director of strategy. She didn’t want to interrupt and so she waited in a corner. As soon as Charles saw his daughter he stopped his conversation and walked to her. Julia only had the time to put the pastries on the side before being engulfed in a bear hug.

“Dad…”

“I’m sorry, Ju’. I don’t want to be that kind of dad. It’s just…”

“It’s fine, dad. I’m not mad.”

“It’s not fine. You are an adult and you can make your own decisions and I should be here supporting you, it’s just… admitting you are growing up is admitting that I might not have the same place in your life and it hurts.” he confessed.

“Thank you. For telling me that.” she didn’t know what to add, she had never been one to express her feelings.

“I’m just scared. I’ve started to read things in the press and…”

“I don’t care about the tabloids, dad. I know my worth and nothing they can publish will change that. I’m not even reading them.”

“It will be worse when they will know that you are dating Ethan.”

Julia shrugged. She knew that it would be bad but it would be a cross she would cross when she would get there. She didn’t want to think about it. She would be forced to, soon enough.

“I just don’t want to see you mad at me. I don’t like it.”

“I could never be mad at you, Ju’. Never. That’s your mom’s job, not mine.She is the bad cop and I’m the nice one.”

Julia playfully punched her dad’s shoulder to which he reciprocated a little too hard, making Julia lose her balance. In the attempt to stay on her feet, she moved her body a bit too fast, waking up the pain in her rib. She had applied Ethan’s cream and it made wonders, there was a bruise but it was light. She definitely expected worse. But it still hurt. Seeing her daughter’s face and her hand going automatically to her left side made Charles frown.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“All good. It’s just that Ethan and I have been stupid and my rib is hurting a little bit and… wait dad? Where are you going?”

She saw her dad making his way towards the exit of the garage and followed him. He was heading to the Maserati’s garage, of course, she thought, and she regretted mentioning the incident. She tried to stop him, telling him that it was not bad, that they were just playing and had not been careful enough. Ethan felt bad enough about it, he didn't want Charles to scold him or go full dad’s mode on him. But Charles didn’t care and didn’t seem to listen to her.

As they approached the Maserati’s garage, Julia tried to make huge signs with her arms in an attempt to catch Ethan’s attention and to warn him. He finally noticed her as he was talking to his race engineer. He excused himself and went to her, his hands in his pockets. And then he saw how Charles looked grumpy and he knew that he was screwed.

“Charles? Julia?”

“It’s Mr. Leclerc from now on for you Ethan. Did you really think that I wouldn’t learn about you and my daughter? Did you sincerely think that you could go behind my back and date her without my permission? And most importantly, how dare you hurt her?”

“Dad! Leave him alone!”

Ethan would have laughed if he had not had so much respect for Charles. Instead, he suppressed a smile that was threatening to form on his lips. Right now was not the time.

“I’ve been careless, I’m sorry about that but Julia shouldn’t have moved so much. It wouldn’t have happened.”

“It shouldn’t have happened indeed.” confirm Charles.

People were starting to look at them, making Julia uncomfortable.She stepped in front of Charles and asked him to take a step back. So much for wanting to control the narrative about her and Ethan’s relationship. Charles abdicated unwillingly and before leaving, looked Ethan straight in the eyes.

“What do you think about a karting race, Ethan? Just you and me?”

“I’d say I would love that but aren’t you a bit too old?” replied Ethan, making Julia mentally facepalmed.

“I’ll show you on the track that I can beat you Ethan Verstappen and I promise you that I will sweep this little arrogant smile off of your face.” said Charles in a low voice, pointing his index finger at him.

Julia couldn’t help a laugh to escape her throat, catching her dad’s attention.

“What?”

“Nothing. It’s just funny how tables have turned now that we are dating. I remember vividly how we had a conversation about me being an adult and being mature with Ethan. Look at you now.” she said sarcastically as Ethan couldn’t refrain his laughter anymore.

“It was before I learned that he was dating my daughter!”

And just like that he left, leaving the two young adults laughing together.

It didn’t take long before the word spread out in the paddock about Julia and Ethan. People were prompt to get that they were more or less of an item after the way Charles ran to Ethan. In a way, it made things easier for Ethan as he didn’t have to hide or sneak away to get to the Skoda’s garage. It was way easier. After both of the practice sessions and his helmet under his arms, he went to see her and didn’t forget to smile as he passed by Niels and Noah who looked at him weirdly. Julia was talking with another engineer, watching the screen as she was pointing back and forth on a curve and something on her notebook. She seemed frustrated. It was in the way she was carrying herself, her back stiff, her lips tied and her emotionless look. One he knew all too well, that was the look she was always giving him.

He waited, alone, for her to pack her stuff and leave and when she finally did he was welcomed with a little smile.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, genuinely surprised to see him there.

“I thought we could leave together, you know for the rumors and all. And I wanted to know how you were doing? Your bruise and your dad… just thought I could be nice.”

“Who would have thought that you could be?”

“Hey! I’m not a total asshole.”

She stopped, as Ethan kept walking. When he noticed she wasn’t next to him anymore, he paused and looked at her.

“What?”

“You are not a total asshole. That’s true. Excuse me, I need a little time to process the information, the realization just hit me. It’s weird.”

“Sometimes, I wonder why I’m bothering talking to you… It was better when we were hating each other.”

“Well you have only yourself to blame. It’s you who asked for my help. If you had not been so careless with this girl…”

“I was not careless.” he was suddenly serious. “I’m innocent Julia. Believe me.”

And for an unknown reason, she believed him.

Ethan woke up the next day with a smile on his face. Today was his birthday, he was twenty-four and he was happy to celebrate it on the tracks. He hoped that the qualifying would go well for him, that would be his best birthday present. A part of him couldn’t wait to go back home and celebrate it with his friends and his family, properly. Hundreds of notifications were wishing him a happy birthday. From strangers on the internet to friends, to distant cousins and relatives. He took a few minutes to answer some of them before opening his mom’s text. It was short, just a simple happy birthday with an invitation for lunch as soon as he would be back. But the last few words struck him. She invited him with his girlfriend and Ethan could feel his own trap falling on him. He had to talk to Julia, he couldn’t lie to his mom anymore, not when Charles knew about him and Julia and paparazzi pictures were on the internet. He just hoped the young Leclerc would be fine with it.

Ethan had never been a huge fan of city tracks, that’s why he approached the Saturday qualifying with a reasonable amount of confidence, but his focus on the maximum level. He just wanted to have a position that would not make him far from the points. The second sector was the most tricky part for him with the successive corners and he had to admit, he was a bit apprehensive. It was going to be hard but he would give his all. As expected, he struggled a lot with sector two, losing too much time and ending up in the traffic that almost cost him to get eliminated in Q1. The Q2 was not as bad as he could have expected and he was going to start P12 right next to Martin and his P13. The start was going to be tricky; he hated being in the middle of the pack where everyone was always aggressive, especially since he was next to a Ferrari that would try everything to go back to the top as fast as possible. He would need to be extra focused when he would enter the first corner.

The surprise of the qualifying was coming from Skoda who managed, Ethan didn’t know by what miracle, to place both of the cars in Q2 taking the P14 and the P15. A part of the young Maserati’s driver couldn’t help but wonder if Julia’s ideas about the upgrades were finally showing results. He hoped it was the case and that unexpected thought surprised him.

Finally, race day came by quickly and with it a beautiful surprise from his team. A huge strawberry cake had been cooked for him and twenty-four candles were displayed on him. His birthday’s song could be heard from outside the doors of the hospitality and it warmes Ethan’s heart. After all, they didn’t hate him entirely and even Harun, his teammate that didn’t like to mingle with other people and that Ethan was sure hated him, was there. But the festivities turned short as it was soon time for the driver to take their place in their cars. Once his visor was down, Ethan was not fearing anything. It was as if something switched inside him. He was another version of himself, focused and determined on one thing only, the win.

As expected, the start was messy and Martin tried to close the door for Ethan in the first corner to avoid the undertaking. Ethan anticipated his move and tried to force an opening. Both of them didn’t want to let the other pass through to the point that it came close to a contact.

“Ethan, don't fight. Stay in Poleck’s trail and wait for the opportunity.” said his race engineer on his radio.

“Copy.”

“Just focus on what’s in front. We are not scared about the Skodas and we expect a Safety Car at some point. Let’s wait for it and in the meantime, manage your tires.

“Copy.”

And that’s what Ethan did. For a few laps he worked on putting pressure on Martin’s by staying in his rear view mirrors, hoping that at some point the Polish guy would break and make a mistake. It ended up happening in sector two where Martin locked his wheel in one of the trickier corners and put his Ferrari front wing first in the wall. Ethan managed to avoid him, just in time before the red flag was raised.

In the Ferrari’s garage, a collective sigh of disapproval was heard. It was not the first time that something like that happened with Martin and everyone knew that it was going to cost a lot of money, considering the damage. But they still had one driver to focus on, thought Charles as Martin was coming back, his helmet still on his face and walking angrily to his room. They had a few minutes before the restart and Charles decided to go and see him. He knocked on the door and waited for it to open. Martin was getting rid of his suit and was in a bad mood.

“Do you have five minutes or would you rather be alone?” Charles asked.

“I keep on making stupid mistakes, you can be mad at me Charles.”

“It could have happened to anyone, even Elijah. This corner is not the easiest. I know one thing or two about it. I hit it too when I was a rookie too in Ferrari. It didn’t prevent me from being three times World Champion. I learned from it, worked harder to not make the mistake twice and eventually I won there. We will rewatch the crash to understand where it came from and what we could have done collectively to prevent it.”

“I locked the wheel and then I lost the rear, I was keeping an eye on Verstappen and I lost my focus. But maybe it wouldn’t have happened if the car was actually driveable. I can’t keep going like that, it’s a pain in the ass to drive it on city tracks.”

“We will see what we can do to help you. The car is not what we hoped it would be, that's for sure.” confessed Charles, feeling sorry for Martin. He knew all too well what it felt like to drive a car that was not suiting your driving style.

In the Skoda’s hospitality, it was celebration time. Both drivers had done their best race up to date. Sure they were not yet in the points but they had been so close. Everyone was happy and it gave Julia the confidence she needed to go to Wilhelm and talk to him about the upgrades she had thought about. Everything was ready, she even had simulation data along with a list of the benefits and how much it would cost. She breathed in and breathed out a few times before confidently going to him.

As for Ethan, he managed a P11, not the birthday gift he was expecting but he knew it was the best he could achieve with his car. He just regretted to not be able to bring some points to the team. But still, overall it was a good race. Not one to remember but not one to forget. He was sure they could extract information from it to help them make a step forward. And on a more personal level, he felt an improvement in his driving. So it as a good Sunday and he was looking forward to his one week break before starting the Asian part of the season. As he was making his way out of the media pen, ready to get back to the hotel he saw Julia sat on the border of the starting grid, her head lowered. It was starting to be a bit late and he knew most of the teams had already left. Intrigued, he got closer until he heard sobs coming from her.

“Julia? What are you doing here? What’s wrong?” he said as he sat beside her.

“It’s nothing. It’s just… it’s stupid. And you shouldn’t be here, I wanted to be alone.”

“So no one could see you cry. Do you want me to get your dad or Romy?”

“I don’t want anyone to see me like that.I’m fine, I promise.”

“No offense, Joolsie but you look like shit.”

“And you know exactly how to cheer on someone…” she sniffled, rubbing her eyes with the back of hand.

“I could do it better if I knew what was happening.”

“I told you, it’s nothing. Working for Skoda is not what I expected, that's it. It’s just that I’m making a big fuss out of it when in reality it’s okay… I thought that I could be useful and I wanted to help so I designed some upgrades. I had this whole thing ready and I was so happy just to be turned down by Wilhelm. I’m here to execute orders not to think. He threw everything away… all my work.”

It angered Ethan more than he thought it would. He hated injustice. F1 was first and foremost a team sport. If you wanted your team to perform you needed the help of everyone. All suggestions were worth to be taken into account and no one should feel disrespected or deserved to be talked down to. He threw an arm over Julia’s shoulder before forcing her to lean on him.

“Wilhelm doesn’t deserve your tears. It’s his loss. I’m sure your ideas were amazing.”

“They were. They really were.” she paused, deep in her thoughts “But you’re right. If Skoda doesn’t want my ideas, maybe my dad and Ferrari will.”

She got up and straightened her tee shirt, before looking right in front of the Ferrari’s garage with a determined look on her face.

Author's note: What do you think will happen next? Let me know your theories, I love to read them.

Don't hesitate to leave a comment or an ask, as well as reblogging and leaving a like. It helps a lot for the story to find its audience. I also have a taglist for this story, so if you want to be added so you never miss a chapter, let me know.

Taglist:

@herondalism @aundercover @musingsbyshreya @karmabyfernando @reengard @mycenterfold @smoooothoperator

#writing #fiction #charles leclerc #max verstappen fanfic #charles leclerc fanfic #max vertsappen #f1 story #f1 fic #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 x female reader #f1 x oc

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topsyturvy-turtely · 1 year

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OTP challenge - day 14

IT IS BACK YOU GUYS!!! I am bringing it back! ✨turtely's otp challenge✨

please someone tell me they are excited- i need that, lol.

I had the BIGGEST writer's block ever: didn't come up with an idea for mOnThs and when I finally did have one I was like "idk how to wriiiiite that" but today I was like *slams table* yk what?! Fuck that! I am bringing it back! Soooo yeah. Here we go? please lmk what you think!

Btw it is a bit (a lot) different then my other stories sooo bear with me yeah?

[Link to day 13]

14. Geeking out over something

Blue vs. red. Grunts vs. robotic breathing. Good vs. bad. Two lighsabers meet, trying to push the other away. Two male counterparts, fighting for what they think is the right way, which looks decidedly different from each view.

Suddenly - the taller, darker haired, with the black mask - strikes and-

"AAAAAAHHH", the shorter, blonder, with perspiration in his shaggy hair - cries in agony. His hand has been separated from his arm. (Or was he just hiding it in is sleeve?) The boy steps back, covering his injured arm under the healthy one. His weapon is lost. The dark guy steps closer and the blond is trapped on a small part of the treehouse platform.

The other boy man speaks up, "There is no escape. Don’t make me destroy you. You do not yet realize your importance. You have only begun to discover your power. Join me and I will complete your training. With our combined strength, we can end this destructive conflict and bring order to the galaxy."

But the blond boy - even with no escape in sight, even being greatly injured - refuses. Brave soldier until the bitter end, he counters, "I’ll never join you!"

But the masked one does not give up, "If you only knew the power of the dark side. Obi-Wan never told you what happened to your father."

Desperately holding onto the tree branch the metal construct the blond boy speaks through gritted teath, "He told me enough! It was you who killed him." Perhaps you would see a sad smile behind the mask as his friend enemy speaks. "No. I am your father."

Shocked, the blond stares at his counterpart. Refusing to believe even one word, he yells, "No. No. That’s not true! That’s impossible!"

The taller argues in his deep voice, "Search your feelings. You know it to be true."

But the smaller won't believe. "No! No! No!"

 "Luke. You can destroy the Emperor. He has foreseen this. It is your destiny. Join me, and together we can rule the galaxy as father and son. Come with me. It is the only way." He puts away his sword, and offers his hand to the shorter boy man.

The injured breathes deeply, indescribable but pronounced tranquility waving over him. He looks over the edge, looks back at the masked man and-

He jumps off, landing safely in a trampoline underneath, falling into the endlessness of the galaxy.

The taller boy rips his mask off and reveals messy dark curls. With one jump he follows the blond boy and lands next to him on the trampoline. The shorter boy giggles and turns around on his belly. His face prepped on his palm, blue eyes sparkling as he looks at his friend. The dark haired boy grins widely and lays onto his back, with one arm under his head. "Nice acting there, Martin"

The blond laughs, "Yours was pretty good too, Ben"

Ben, the taller, dark-haired boy, grabs his own hand and imitates the shout of pain from the act, that appeared minutes before, "AAAAAHHHH!"

The blond - Martin - playfully nudges Ben's shoulder with his hand. "Oh, shut up!"

The dark haired boy smiles at him. Then his face turns serious, "Join me when I go to acting school, after high school."

"We could be Holmes and Watson", Martin grins.

Ben grabs Martin's hand, "Whatever happens you'll forever be the Holmes to my Watson."

But as soon as he says that, Martin has to visibly fight a laugh back.

"What? What is it?"

"It's just-", now Martin can't help laughing. "Have you looked at yourself?! You definitely got the looks for a genius. You- with your cheekbones..."

"My cheekbones?!"

"Yeah! And the dark hair and all that." Martin waves generally at Ben's face. "Gotta be you."

Ben considers that. Then he shrugs. "Alright. As long as it is us."

"Sherlock Holmes and John Watson.", Martin says with a gentle smile, squeezing Ben's hand.

"John Watson and Sherlock Holmes.", Ben replies.

"Yeah, could work." Martin grins.

"BBC is gonna love us." Ben says, a dreamy expression on his face.

"Everyone is gonna love us." Martin says, shrugging, completely unaware how true these words will be.

~The story about how Freebatch turned into Johnlock because of Star Wars.

---

(tags and info under the cut)

sooo yeah I guess that was a multi crossover? Ever looked for a "young Freebatch geeking out over Star Wars and then talking about becoming Johnlock"-fanfic? Well there you go! xDD This was my first freebatch fic ever (I don't usually write or read that because I think the actors deserve some privacy...) and probably my last so don't hate please :P

The dialogue (the one written in italics) is taken from the Star Wars, The Empire Strikes Back movie. Check out my Source.

All I've got left to say is: Thank you for sticking with me and reading, my lovely turtles!

tag list! (please tell me if you wanna be added/removed or if i forgot you!) @justanobsessedpan @helloliriels @boredsushi @fluffbyday-smutbynight @inevitably-johnlocked @hisfavouritejumper @rhasima @forfucksakejohn @ohlooktheresabee @turbulenttrouble @7arantellgrrl @ssmeowl123 @so-youre-unattached-like-me @totallysilvergirl @peanitbear @train-mossman @loki-lock @smulderscobie @timberva @grace-in-the-wilderness @chinike @pansherlock @the-smol-bean-libby-blog @jawnn-watson @whatnext2020 @escapingthereality @missdeliadili @kettykika78 @musingsofmyown @7-percent @speedymoviesbyscience @astudyin221b @francj15 @almosttinycowboy @ladylindaaa @we-r-loonies @mxster-jocale @sherlockcorner @noahspector @our-stars-graveside @jobooksncoffee

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sabyfangirl16 · 2 years

Text

Chapter 5: I Love You, Bro

"Any sign of them yet?" asked a troubled Koki.

"No," said a worried Aviva.

The two of them were keeping their eyes peeled for any sign of the Kratt brothers. It had been an hour since the search started, and the crew was only getting more an more concerned for their friends.

Suddenly, a thunder roared furiously, the electrifying lightning zipping across the sky making Jimmy scream in terror while piloting the Tortuga, he was getting stressed.

Aviva decided to call him, "Jimmy, come in. Koki and I can't see anything from up here, we need you to take us down into the forest!" She looked at him with worry in her eyes.

"Alright, going in!"

The Tortuga's wings folded before lowering into the rainforest, flying at tree level. Koki and Aviva were still looking, using goggles and a search light similar to the one they've used to find Chris and Martin during a nocturnal tarsier creature adventure once.

Dropelettes of rain quickly turned into heavier drops, and soon the sky was bucketing down rain on the entire rainforest. This made the crew even more anxious.

"I hope the guys are okay," Aviva's voice cracked.

Koki turned to her then put a hand on her shoulder. "Hey, they're Kratts. I'm sure they're alright and somewhere safe," she said comfortingly. Aviva smiled thankfully then went back to searching, with more determination than ever.

Thunder.

Martin gasped at the horrifyingly loud sound. He took about five seconds to regain his breath, then his eyes turned to the entrance of the cave; it was raining heavily outside.

"Must've dozed off," he told himself while rubbing his face, feeling a little groggy.

His attention turned to his brother who started moaning and agitating uncontrollably, his head turning from right to left as he mumbled something in his sleep. Martin, worried about Chris' state, went over to place a hand on his forehead, only to find that his temperature has risen from earlier. This made him even more concerned, the fever was getting higher and he had to give Chris immediate medical attention. But he didn't have the first aid-kit with him, he also suspected that he was having a fever dream wich only made things worse.

He had to wake him up.

Chris was twirling rapidly while Martin held him by the arms and shook him. "Chris! Bro, wake up!"

His attempt worked because, the next thing he knew, Chris came back to the world of living, maybe a little too quick and looked around panically with feverish eyes.

"Chris, Chris, calm down, it's me Martin, everything's fine..." He tried calming him down, which only took a few seconds to work.

Chris slowly calmed down, breathing heavily, then looked at his older brother with blood-shot eyes, his expression told him that he was frightened. He could've sworn his eyes were teary.

"M-Martin," his voice was cracking really badly, as though he was about to burst into tears. He was shaking badly while his brother held him close in his arms.

"It's okay, bro, I'm here." Martin whispered in his brother's ear, attempting to comfort him.

They stayed in a sitting, hugging position for a while before Chris let out a sigh of relief.

"Feeling better?" Martin looked down at his little brother with caring eyes.

Chris slowly nodded, he was dealing with heavy headedness.

Martin wasn't even thinking about asking his brother about his dream, he just wanted him to feel safe.

He helped him into a sitting position by the fire to keep him warm, then picked up his blue sweater and tried to place it around his brother's shoulders...but was met with refusal.

"Martin, you can't give me your sweater, you'll catch a cold," his voice was sore.

"Chris," Martin's voice was firm. "You need it more than I do," he said with both a caring and serious tone.

"But-" Chris tried to protest but was instantly interrupted. "C'mon, haven't you had enough of being stubbern like this? Look where it led us!"

Chris' expression changed into one that Martin recognized automatically; the memory of Chris when he had to say goodbye to his cricket friend from years ago flashed before his eyes.

This made him feel bad a little.

"Chris I-" But before he could apologies, Chris beat him to it. "No, I'm sorry."

This made Martin a bit confused. "I just didn't think much of it at first, and when I remembered how excited you were yesterday about today's adventure, I just figured I would ignore myself..." He turned to make eye contact with his older brother. "I just didn't want to worry you."

Martin was listening to each and every word. That last phrase made him realize just how much he meant to his brother.

Chris turned his head away from Martin to look at the fire, his arms wrapped around himself.

"Chris," Martin sat next to him then wrapped his sweater around his little brother's shoulders just like he had the intention to before saying, "I love you, bro."

Chris' eyes widened as he looked straight at his older brother, the warm smile on his face confirming his words. Chris' expression changed too, into one full of warmth and affection, a smile crossed his face as they both side hugged in front of the fire.

"I love you, too."

A few minutes had passed, and the Kratt brothers were still in that same embrace, when suddenly-

"Chris! Martin!" They heard a familiar female voice call out.

Martin and Chris were both startled at the lound sound coming from outside. They both got up, Martin's arms wrapped around Chris fo support, and as soon as the two brothers stepped out of the cave, a wave of relief washed through them as a familiar blue ship was flying above their heads.

"The Tortuga! We're saved!" Martin yelled out with a mixture of enthusiasm and relief. Jimmy parked the ship right in front of them.

Just then, Koki and Aviva walked out with two umbrellas above their heads.

"Guys, we're so glad we found you!" Aviva said delightfully.

"Yeah, what happened to your creature pods and-" Koki stopped when she saw the state they were in. The two girls exchanged confused looks.

"Uhh, did we miss something?" Aviva asked.

Chris and Martin both looked at each other, and chuckled.

"It's a long story."

That was exactly what happened two days ago, the memory kept replaying in Martin's head ever since. He was brewing some tea for his ill brother, who was currently resting in his bed.

He held the warm mug in his hands and took it all the way to his and his brother's room. As soon as he stepped in, his eyes set on a sleeping Chris who was covered in his favorite blanket; he was wearing a light green shirt and comfortable dark green shorts.

Martin put down the mug on a bedside table before placing his hand on his brother's forehead; his fever was coming down now that he was receiving proper care.

A smile crossed his face as he saw how peaceful his little brother seemed, then Chris mumbled, "Thanks, bro." His eyes were still closed and his voice was shallow, but a familiar smile of warmth was on his face.

Martin's voice softened, now that he knew everything was going to be alright.

"Anytime, bro. Anytime."

#wild kratts #kratt brothers #chris kratt #martin kratt #aviva corcovado #koki #jimmy z #fanfiction #wk fanfic #hurt/comfort #A Sick Kratt #Chapter 5 #fandom #fangirl power!

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gray-isnt-real · 2 years

Text

Are You Okay?

A Sequel to Pick One

•••

🎶 -Her heart has got no pity for you!

Vampire, vampire,

Sparkle like a sapphire!

Strutting through the ghetto,

A sexy black stiletto!

She's a vampire vampire-! 🎶

Martin could hear it backstage, an undertone to his brother’s voice. The shrill beeping of that stupid device that Chris took with him everywhere he went, it echoed somewhere behind the royal blue curtains of the large stage Chris dangled above. It was so loud, so horribly obnoxious and disruptive. Martin hated that thing with a passion, with how often it disrupted rehearsal and his sleep schedule. Not that his brother seemed to care. It was a gift from his “precious Koki” and he refused to put it on silent, because “what if I miss her call?!” The only time he could get any relief from the sound was when Chris was actually performing. But at this very moment? The brunette didn’t notice the high-pitched beeping sound, nor did he seem to care.

“Chris!”

No answer.

“Chris! Brat!”

He was far too occupied with his routine. Props to him for being so focused, Martin supposed, but that beeping was giving him a headache worse than that of a night of drinking. It pierced his eardrums like nothing else. He wanted to smash the damn thing so he’d never have to hear it again... But then Chris would kill him. Or at least try to. He didn’t have the heart to break something so dear to his brother, as much as he hated to admit it. With his brother preoccupied, the blonde slipped behind the curtains, making his way back to the source of the treacherous sound.

It wasn’t hard to find, with its glowing screen and gentle vibration against the wooden stool it had been placed on. An edited-to-hell picture of Koki was Chris’s icon for her contact, mid laugh and all sorts of stupid digital stickers and filters all over the photo. He was much too soft for her... Martin picked up the device and hit the biggest button, as he’d seen Chris do many times before. And it worked; there was Koki, dressed up in summer clothes that looked more suited for swimming rather than everyday wear. Her hair was twisted into braids, and her braids were pulled back into a semi-tight ponytail. He supposed she was pretty, but not worth completely overlooking their whole mission, the purpose they integrated themselves into human society.

Beside her were two people he didn’t recognize. Chris had never mentioned them, at least. To Koki’s right was a Latina woman, brown hair pulled back into a ponytail and dark smudges on her arms and hands. To Koki’s left was a redheaded man dressed like he was ready to spend his day inside, in a t-shirt and shorts that looked almost comparable to pajamas. Quite the contrast to the two women.

“Oh! Martin, hi-“

They hadn’t properly met yet. Koki was clearly surprised, maybe a bit nervous in the blonde’s unexpected presence, knowing that they hadn’t properly interacted and this really wasn’t the best first impression- She seemed to straighten a little bit.

“I-I’m sorry, Chris isn’t rehearsing, is he? I can always call back,” she said. A clear attempt to hang up. “I wasn’t sure about his schedule today-“

“With how often you two talk, I’m surprised he didn’t tell you,” Martin retorted. She winced a little, but kept a straight face. “He’s rehearsing right now. I have another stage manager keeping an eye on him.”

That was a lie; he was the only “stage manager” present.

“Was there something you needed from him?”

Koki looked to the woman at her right, as if questioning her on what to do. This wasn’t some call just to say hello, was it? They needed something from his brother. The idea of that wasn’t exactly pleasing, to say the least. What could they possibly want from Chris? Was Koki using him? Was this a scheme?

“Was there something you needed, or can I hang up?” he asked again, his tone having a little more bite to it that before.

“Yes, we needed something,” the tan woman snapped back. Matching his energy; Martin supposed it was fair. Some guy she doesn’t know snaps at her, she has a right to snap back. He supposed he could respect it. “Are you going to be an ass about it?”

“That depends. What do you need?”

The Hispanic woman rolled her eyes. “We need some info about sirens and their migration patterns, hunting patterns, territorial behaviors-“

“Sirens aren’t fucking animals, you know,” the blonde cut her off. This was odd. Really odd.

“Technically, almost all monsters are mammals, so yes, they are,” she clarified. “But anyone could ask the same things about humans. Our hunting and migration patterns, territorial and social behaviors, our diet, our features, etcetera-“

“Get to the point please. Why do you need to know this from me when there are plenty of sirens to observe yourselves?”

Her eyes narrowed. “Because we can’t find them.”

Couldn’t find them? Martin wasn’t sure if that was a joke or if these mortals were that dense. It wasn’t hard to find sirens if you traveled far enough from the coast of the mainland. He could remember from before hunters found them, mortals from the mainland simply enjoying time out in the waters would pass by every now and again. Some would stop to say hello, to befriend them. He could recall a fisherman offering fruit and precious things from the mainland to his aunts, asking to let him fish in peace in their waters.

Mortals knew where to find sirens. They knew they ruled that little part of the ocean that they resided in. So how in the world could these three be so dense?

“Chris told me you’re in Greece for work, yes? On the islands?”

Koki spoke up this time. “Yes, but-“

“You go northwest of the islands, towards Athens but not towards the shore. If you keep going, there’s-“

“A cove south of Athens, we know,” Koki interjected. “We found the rocks, but no sirens. There was nothing.”

On the screen of the little device was something Martin never thought he’d see. Not in his worst nightmares. It was the cove. The sand on the shore was kicked up by birds and little things washing up on the shore. The rocks were bare, scratched and wet from ocean breeze. Saltwater birds had taken sanctuary there by now. His aunts and sisters... They were nowhere to be seen. They weren’t there. They were gone.

“Locals in Athens told us the sirens have lived there for generations, but we were wondering if there was any sort of migratory behaviors that we were overlooking, if there could be a reason that they aren’t there at this moment,” Koki explained. “We thought we’d get the input of someone who knows a little more than we do about this.”

...Silence...

Martin was quiet; much too quiet for Koki’s liking. His stern expression had turn sullen, and the worry in his eyes was unmistakable. Those emotional walls he’d put up were torn down somehow.

“...Martin?”

The blonde seemed to snap out of the daze he’d sunken into, just for a moment.

“Huh?”

“Are you okay?”

#r-u-having-fun-yet #juniper’s siren au #siren kratts au #wild kratts au #chris kratt #martin kratt #wild kratts koki #wild kratts angst #wild kratts aviva #jimmy z #short fanfic #wild kratts fanfic #gray’s siren au

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psychologyforreallife · 3 years

Text

Greek gods and Goddesses

Part 1

When I'm bored in my college classes, I match certain cliches with gods and honestly, it's good for me.

Zeus

The jock. C'mon guys we all knew it. The misogynistic piece of shit, cheating over and over again on his gorgeous girlfriend jock.

He's wearing a varsity jacket and his hair is gelled, don't believe any shit he says about his hair being 'natural'. He's on the football team and can't keep his eyes off the cheerleaders asses.

He's the coach's favorite, his coach made sure he made it through school so it's fine ig.

He has those white straight teeth, dimples, curly blonde hair and blue eyes, but don't trust him! HE'LL PEAK IN HIGHSCHOOL!!

Zeus has slept with at least on of his teachers, he got some sort of STD and didn't give a shit. Didn't even have the courtesy to tell them, or maybe even wear a condom, or JUST WAIT TILL HE WAS TREATED!

He's a womanizer. And Hera was his new target.

Hera

Social justice feministic warrior. Crumble under the blade of her self righteousness.

Okay, so, she led a slut walk, getting rid of dress code in her highschool as well as going to every gay pride and feminist she could find. She's actively involved in politics, and let's be honest, she's been hired for some protests.

She has a gerbil, three dogs, a two headed snake, and an turtle with its own pool.

On sundays and Wednesday, she'll swim with her turtle and clean out gunk. She has dreams of running a post-abortion, sexual assault, and molestation therapy treatment office for survivors.

She wears leather and gold a LOT and will use her three years used doc martins to step on your ambitions.

Lowkey mom friend with bandaids and pads in her biker boots but don't tell anyone.

Long tangled hair that she refuses to brush and different lip gloss for everyday of the week. It's no surprise she caught Zeus's eye, hell, she caught everyone's eyes.

Big boobs, a nice ass, that's all Zeus saw, and that's why he ain't getting a piece of either.

Poseidon

Swimmer boy, with short, almost but not quite buzzed hair. Pretty blue eyes, he gets compliments all the time about them.

His hips have gorgeous v-line and his pecs are phenomenal. His calves are honestly godlike and his jaw is by far, the best in the school.

Cue Zeus scoffing.

He prefers speedos over anything and he always smells of chlorine and light amounts of detergent and cologne.

When he's not sleeping, eating, or learning, he's swimming. He feels safe, happy, in the water. He feels as though he belongs there. He has a lot of pressure to keep up his winning streak for the team so it really weighs on him.

He's dated a couple girls, pretty and slim, model type bodies who swam as well. Even then, they could never understand his attachment to water.

They never lasted long.

But amphitrite did. By far, the chubbiest girl he had been with. She was the manager for the swim team, a freshman with short hair, glasses and boy could her hips move.

I could go into much more detail about their relationship, but we'll talk about that another time.

Hades

Emo ass bitch. Black dyed hair, dangling in front of one if not both of his eyes. Black skinny jeans with chains, striped shirts, band t shirts, black boots, chokers, piercings.

He smokes cigarettes and has a street dog that follows him around. His hair looks like he rolled out of bed and he always has a snarl on his face. Ridiculously sharp teeth but he takes very good care of his nails. They're always clean and painted a nice crisp black. His OG blonde hair comes back at times but he tries to avoid that topic when it comes up.

Has like twelve poetry books, he has read harry styles fanfics and is very not ashamed to admit he's written some.

He always talks about hormonal and angsty he is but in reality, this bitch has never had a pimple. His skin is clear as shit and EVERYONE IS JELLY.

He's really cute but his attitude is a solid 2 out of 10.

His life is the worst, he's never gonna find love, fuck voting, anarchy, chao- holy shit, it's Persephone, straighten up.

Turns into this chivalrous gentleman everytime Persephone is around. Red and blushy at all times. Actually smiling. Everyone gets whiplash when they see him like oh SHIT!

Ares

The delinquent, literally the embodiment.

Fiery red hair, scars on his cheekbones with a mean ass daddy who made a collection out of his son's bruises.

He gets into fights all the time and skips class, he smokes with hades alot and hangs out on the roof with Hades pet, Cerberus.

He's the buffest kid in school, with a whole six pack and jacked arms. He's definitely taken steroids at one point in his life but he quit after a month. Ares gets a huge crush on Aphrodite but she's dating someone so he tries his best to ignore his feelings.

He ends up getting more frustrated and, whoops, suddenly he's angrier.

His momma was harassed profusely by his father so he has a horrible distaste for anyone who jokes about that shit. He claims they deserve whatever's coming to them.

Yessir

He has an old-school phone, not a flip phone but pretty close.

Fun facts: He really likes comic books and he really needs help in school so it's cool that Aphrodite happened to be a tutor.

Aphrodite

Really gorgeous but also really smart but no one noticed anything but her boobs girl.

So Aphrodite has had a lot of trauma but she doesn't really realize it. The amount of times shes hear 'boys will be boys', and 'you were asking for it' has left her scarred for life. She went through a time of practicing bulimia whenever her mom called her fat and lost unhealthy amounts of weight.

Ares was a really good friend then and really helped her through her time of need and she'll never forget that. She gained back alot of her weight and she feels better than ever, and when people call her fat and say how she had a glow down, ares is always there to beat the shit out of them.

Ares has told her the stomach fat she gained is natural and he thinks it cute.

Cue squealing

Wow nevermind this ain't healthy. Came up with a whole storyline for what?? Anyways, other characters will come out soon. 😋😋

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stina-is-a-punk-rocker · 3 years

Text

books i actually like

A solid 97% of my ‘book reviews’ (for lack of a better term) are bound to be just me bitching about said book for way too long with way too many expletives, because books I genuinely adore rarely invoke the visceral reaction within me that causes so many of my ‘reviews’ of books I don’t like to be so impassioned and long-winded. Here’s to kicking this dumpster fire off with a little positivity, because that will be little and far in between henceforth.

Harry Potter – J. K. Foul Thing I never understood how someone could appreciate the art and not the artist until Harry Potter. JKR’s dead to me, but the seven original (and only, because I refuse to accept the flaming pile of dog shit that was The Cursed Child as canon) books remain i c o n i c. And you’ll probably witness a LOT of Harry Potter-inspired shitposting on my part if you decide to stick around, because Harry Potter trivia makes up a solid chunk of my personality, and I like to shove my fandoms in other people’s faces. Again, I’m cute like that.

The Diary of a Young Girl – Anne Frank By some odd coincidence, my mum got me Anne Frank’s diary for my 13th birthday, and I always felt like a Super Special Snowflake because of that. Obviously, I can’t relate to being Jewish and in hiding during WWII, but there’s a lot of Anne’s views and thoughts that… resonated with me (ain’t that the most basic-ass description of a book, ever). There’s always the lingering sadness while reading because you know how her story comes to an end, but it’s a book that’s still stuck with me six years later, and for the rest of my mortal life.

The Book Thief – Markus Zusak Why Must I Adore Books That Give Me Naught but Pain: An Autobiography.

Freak the Mighty – Rodman Philbrick Ditto.

Bad Alice – Jean Ure When I first saw the cover, I expected a lighthearted, cheery book. I was very much mistaken. Duffy, a self-proclaimed ‘oddball’, and Alice, another self-proclaimed ‘oddball’, are easily two of my favorite fictional characters, ever. The subject matter is pretty damn dark and rereading the book as an adult is actually kind of scary, but it’s so well-written and engaging and this sounds like I’m an elementary school teacher writing a report card so I’m just gonna stop here.

Tiger Eyes – Judy Blume A true Relic of the angst-riddled phase of my adolescence (I say as if I am not still going through said angst-riddled phase). I’ve been a fan of Judy Blume’s work since one of the girls in my third-grade class bestowed upon me Tales of a Fourth Grade Nothing; growing up, I’ve become more detached from Blume’s work but Tiger Eyes is a book that’s never gotten old for me. Davey, the angst-riddled adolescent protagonist, is also stubborn and headstrong and angry and scarily relatable to myself at her age, though under wildly different circumstances.

Changeling – Philippa Gregory I’ve read a couple of Goodreads reviews on the Order of Darkness series, and I’ve garnered that Philippa Gregory fans (Philippans? Philipinos?) are not fans of the series. I can’t vouch for that, given that I’ve only ever read the said series, and I’m admittedly not a fan of books two through four (which is basically every book of the series published to date, exempting the first), but Changeling is a book I liked enough to attempt to handwrite it in a notebook back when I was 12 (I gave up after, like, two sentences because my hand started cramping), and also to try and write a ripoff, featuring an angsty young preteen girl with (short) wavy black hair and eyes like limpid tears (gee, I wonder who that could be) (my eyes are brown, though; I dunno why I wrote the self-insert to be blue-eyed).

The Secret History – Donna Tartt My first foray into dark academia; sadly, reading The Secret History before any other books in the (sub?)genre made every other book pale in comparison. What’s so special about The Secret History for me is that I hate every main character, with passion. Each and every one of them; not just Bunny, but Richard and Henry and Charles and Camilla and Francis and Julian can all go fuck themselves for all I care- but I find them so fascinating. The story and the way it’s written is pretty over-the-top dramatic and my struggling bilingual arse had to look up every tenth word or so, but I adore it with every fibre of my being. Well, the leftover fibres of my being that aren’t simping over Kim Seungmin.

A Series of Unfortunate Events – Lemony Snicket Does this count as the first step of my emo phase? Shoutout to the girl in seventh grade I sat next to for, like, two weeks, who lent me The Wide Window and got me hooked on the series.

Alice in Wonderland – Lewis Carroll This entire book feels so trippy.

The Secret Garden – Frances Hodgson Burnett It’s corny and Everything Works Out Swell for the Goody Guys in the End! in period-typical book fashion, but it got me through many a boring class in the spring of my ninth year of personhood, so I’ll always have a soft spot for Mary and Dickon and Colin and the rest of the gang. It also inspired me to Cultivate, and there are two pretty bougainvillea plants in my garden thanks to one Mary Lennox.

The Miseducation of Cameron Post – Emily M. Danforth Cameron Post: the lesbian baddie we all aspire to be.

Vicky Angel – Jacqueline Wilson Yet another shoutout to my seventh-grade seatmate for lending me her copy of Vicky Angel, which I read under my covers like it was a bloody nudie mag.

A Song of Ice and Fire – George R. R. Martin Where’s Winds of Winter, George?

Turtles All the Way Down – John Green Paper Towns used to be my favorite John Green book until I read Turtles All the Way Down last year. I adore John Green’s writing style (maybe not the #deep #woke #sadboi #middleclass #white #male #cisgender #heterosexual #personalityofabreadroll leads in a solid chunk of his books, though) and okay, so maybe Davis fits all of the above, but my true faves are Aza and Daisy and their dynamic.

To Kill a Mockingbird – Harper Lee I keep calling this ‘HOW to Kill a Mockingbird’ in conversations and it gets really fucking inconvenient.

Coraline – Neil Gaiman I just wish I’d read this sooner than I did.

#book review #harry potter #coraline #john green #changeling #turtles all the way down #to kill a mockingbird #game of thrones #cameron post #vicky angel #the secret history #a series of unfortunate events #the book thief #anne frank #lgbt #historical fiction #fantasy #books

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rosy-cheekx · 3 years

Text

Make A Wish

Book passage: Elfriede Jelinek, The Piano Teacher

Me? Posting an unprompted fic? 2021 is starting off wild!

AO3 Link here

Summary: Martin knows just how to celebrate Jon’s 35th birthday. It’s soft and beautiful and speaks of a bright future.

Martin doesn’t know how to shop for Jon. He’s the kind of guy who doesn’t really want trinkets or the little gifts Martin would think to buy for a significant other. (If he does want them, at least, he doesn’t say it.) Things he needs, like clothes, he buys himself, doesn’t wait for an occasion. Overall, Martin would not describe Jon as materialistic.

Books are the exception. Books are always the exception for Jon. While Jon is not materialistic, he is usually sentimental. He keeps things for as long as he can, letting them wear and wear til they’re no longer usable, like his shoes. Especially pictures. Jon never throws away pictures. (Martin knows why and snaps as many Polaroids as he can of his partner, himself, their friends, even their cat, hanging them around the house in tiny frames as reminders.) But his books are in and out of the shelves like they run a bookshop of their own. Martin has heard the stories of his partner’s reading habits as a youth, knows that Jon’s reading habits are challenging, to say the least. Before they’d moved in together, though, he hadn’t realized that every time he was at Jon’s the bookshelves were almost entirely unique to the last visit. New titles, rarely the same authors, with no seeming organization to the assemblance. Martin knows this now, knows that once a fortnight Jon packs up all the books he’s read and takes them to their local charity shop. It’s his little ritual, and the bug-eyed look of confusion Martin had received when he had asked him about it the first time was priceless.

“I just--don’t need them anymore?” He says, like it’s a question. “I’m not going to read them again.”

“Really?” Martin raised his eyebrows in surprise. “I took you to be a bit of a hoarder when it comes to books, if the statements in your office were any indication. And it’s our flat, so they’re our books. What if I want to read them?”

“Please.” Jon scoffs. “That’s entirely different. I don’t enjoy- well. They’re work, these are not.”

Still, after this, Jon includes Martin in his ritual, giving him synopses from books he thinks Martin might enjoy and adding the Blackwood-Approved books to the other bookshelf. Martin is quite proud of his bookshelf, identical in structure to Jon’s but entirely more organized: books ordered by genre, then by author, with figurines, photos, and plants acting as weights and decor. Jon’s deviates between sparse and overflowing, books stacked however they will fit, with no rhyme or reason to their order.

Martin doesn’t know how to shop for Jon, but he’s learned quickly that Jon isn’t a Things person. Jon is an Experiences person. The moments he treasures are the ones where he and Martin are happy to be in each other’s presence and experiencing new things together. Ice skating, picnics, hiking, cinemas, all the quintessential cheesy dates, the ones he would’ve guessed, way back when, before he knew the real Jon, this Jon, he would have snubbed his nose at.

Jon’s birthday is coming up. He’s turning 35 and is all too self-conscious about the fact. Martin ribs him a little; he’s older by seven months, after all, “you’re making me feel old, Jon!” Their ritual has become to call off work and spend a day together on Jon’s birthday. No gifts, no fanfare, just a day doing an activity Martin has planned. It’s perfect usually, Jon’s delighted smile and bright eyes when he thanks Martin with a kiss is all the satisfaction he needs. But this is 35, it needs to be special. It needs to be perfect.

---

Martin blinks awake to the steady, calming drum of rain on their bedroom window. He pats out blindly for his glasses, haphazardly set on his bedside table, and pushes them on his face, before rolling back onto his side and tucking an arm around Jon’s waist and nuzzling into his neck. “Happy birthday, love,” he murmurs, carding his other hand through Jon’s tangled curls. He smiles softly as he watches his partner; Jon always grumbles that he looks so much older than he is, but when he’s sleeping, Martin swears he looks timeless, a specimen of perfect beauty against the crisp black sheets. Jon shifts in his arms, turning to face him, and squints blearily at Martin. Jon, for all his sleepless nights back at the archives, is not a morning person.

“Hm-mar’in?” he mumbles, irises stained forever green. He clears his throat and scrubs at his eyes. God, he looks just like a cat. “G’mornin’,” he says, a little more comprehensible, voice rough-hewn from sleep.

“Morning, love.” Martin kisses his forehead, between his eyebrows. “Happy birthday,” His nose, cold from a chilly autumn night. “Ready for a good day?” His lips now, soft and warm. Jon sighs underneath him, presses himself into the kiss, slots himself into the Jon-shaped space in Martin’s arms.

When Martin shifts away to sit up, Jon audibly whines, grabbing at Martin’s hand to pull him back. “You’re so warm, don’t go,” he pleads. Martin chuckles and squeezes his hand.

“It’s half nine. You want breakfast, don’t you? We have an agenda to follow, don’t forget.” But Jon shakes his head and tugs again.

“Birthday Ruling,” he cites solemnly, stretching as he says it. (Again, like a cat, the way he arches his back. Is that on purpose? Martin is pretty sure he’s seen Reggie—Her Regency—do the exact same thing.) “By royal decree, you have to stay here until I’m awake enough to help you with breakfast.”

“Well,” Martin chuckles, shaking his head to himself and tucking himself around Jon’s thin form. “I can’t refuse a royal decree, now, can I?”

Breakfast becomes brunch, and once the pair are awake tea, cut fruit, and omelets are prepared and eaten on the couch. Jon being left-handed and Martin right, they sit on their perspective sides so they can hold hands and not inhibit the other from eating.

“So,” Jon prompts, eyeing Martin from his peripheral as he watches him wash dishes. “What are your secret plans? Am I allowed to know yet?”

“Hmm.” Martin considers his question, running a plate through his hands as he dried it, solemn contemplation on his face. “No.”

“Mar-tiiin,” Martin is almost worn down by that plea, a sound he doesn’t think anyone else who has ever met Jonathan Sims could fathom coming from him. A bloom of warmth in his chest; a reminder he will never feel lonely again.

“But I think you’ll figure it out,” he compromises, grinning to himself. His plan had come to him in a sudden realization at work and Martin did think it was some of his best work yet. “Here’s your hint: you may want to bring a canvas.”

Jon’s face is a measured calm. “We’re going shopping?” Martin just shrugs, winking.

They take a cab and the rain pounds down on the roof, the repetitive noise a balm against the cold and wet. Martin really got lucky today; the sound of rain is one of Jon’s favorites. He sighs inwardly as Jon rests his curls, slightly damp from their wait for the cab, on his shoulder and closes his eyes, basking in the warmth of his boyfriend and the pleasant drumming.

Jon’s eyes opened when he felt the cab pull to a stop, and he took their surroundings in with the quick analytical eye of an ex-Archivist. Martin felt his cheeks growing warm with excitement as they stepped out of the cab and paid. The building before them, like most Scottish buildings, was made of uneven stone. There was a little garden, mostly rocks with some shrubbery dotted between, and the pathway, also stone, though a flatter smoother variety, led to the door, which read The Watermill in blue and white lettering. “Martin?” Jon threaded his fingers through Martin’s, eyes wide.

“It’s a bookshop, Jon. It’s got reading nooks, and a café, and I swear I’ll buy you any books you want. We can stay as long as we like. We can read as much as we want.”

Three short squeezes to Martin’s hand. Oh. He was starting to ramble. He returns the answering four. “Martin, love, it sounds perfect. But it’s raining.” Right. A drop of rain rolls down Martin’s nose, and he shivers. “Let’s get inside.”

Martin is glad he brought a tote, a canvas bag with the name of Jon’s university emblazoned on the sides. He follows Jon through every aisle as Jon analyzes every book like their dogs in show. He scans the titles, covers and authors with precision, sometimes returning them with delicate hands, sometimes reading descriptions or thumbing through the pages, before deciding their worth and either reshelving it or handing it to Martin. Martin is distinctly reminded of being an Archival Assistant, helping Jon prioritize case files, except the expression on Jon’s face isn’t furrowed and grim, it’s near-rapturous awe as he selects and examines the books. There is no evident consistency to the books Jon picks, ranging from YA fiction to historical documentation to travel books of places he knew they’d probably never visit, though he always takes Martin’s suggested reads, nodding dutifully and running his hand down the spine before placing it in the ever-weighing bag on Martin’s arm.

They spend nearly an hour and a half roaming shelves before Jon is satisfied with this first load. Martin is grateful. His shoulder is starting to hurt from the nearly full canvas he’s hoisted on his shoulder. Martin leads his partner to a small corner, something that can only be described as a nook. There’s a small, well-worn sofa, a table with coasters, and a coffee table in front of the sofa. The whole space is cast in warm orange-yellow light, courtesy of the standing lamps, and Martin can imagine this is a great place to curl up and fall asleep.

Curl up they do, Martin sitting with a few books of his own beside him and Jon leaning against Jon’s side, sprawling over the majority of the couch. Martin tucks an arm over Jon’s chest, feeling the slow rise and fall of the space where collarbone meets rib, and they read. They read in silence for most of the morning, Jon flipping through his books at a truly astounding pace (Jon thinks its left over from his Archival Spooky Powers, Martin thinks he’s just a nerd), pausing occasionally to read Martin a line he finds interesting. It’s a yellow paperback now, something about psychopathy, and he begins to read out an interview the author had with a man who claims he should not have been diagnosed as a psychopath.

“D’you think Jonah was a psychopath?” Jon asks, brow furrowed as he reads the qualifying characteristics. “He had the ‘grandiose sense of self-worth’ and ‘cunning/manipulation’ down pat.”

Martin hums, glancing over Jon’s shoulder to read the rest of the Psychopath Test. “Lack of remorse,” he points. “Lack of empathy for sure. Someone with empathy doesn’t implant visions of their dead father into the head of their employee. Speaking of, we should have Melanie and Georgie over soon.” Jon nods against his chest. “I’d call him charming, too, actually,” nudging Jon gently. “Especially with new employees. Remember how he—”

“Called me into his office nonstop and ‘checked in?’ Yeah, I remember.” Jon sighed and smoothed the page down. “Can you call it ‘a parasitic lifestyle’ when your employees are bound under your servitude for eternity or until they die?” Jon scoffs. “I don’t think the DSM is ready for Smirke’s Fourteen.”

“Maybe not. Maybe the sixth edition will be.” Martin presses a kiss to the top of Jon’s head and turns back to his own book.

“Hungry?” Martin asks, nudging Jon as his stomach gurgles for the third time in as many minutes. Jon jumps a little, likely having forgotten Martin was there.

“Erm-I mean, a little.” Even after being together for so long, Jon still hesitates to let Martin buy him food. (“Martin, I have money. You don’t- you don’t have to-” but whatever offending muffin or cone of chips would be pressed into his hand and he would thank Martin, sheepish, and take a bite.)

“Chai latte? Something sweet?” Martin asks, nudging Jon out of his side and feeling the cold spot left in his wake. “Its your birthday, come on.” Jon sighs and relents, and Martin swear he can hear him roll his eyes as he walks away.

Martin orders two chais and a few cupcakes (chocolate for Jon, carrot cake for him) from the café in the front of the bookshop and joins an ever-growing queue of patrons waiting to get their own warm treats. The rain must have driven people in in droves. Never mind it, though, their corner feels empty enough. He thinks he sees a spider on the back of a woman’s shirt in front of him, and flinches before realizing, oh, it’s just a bit of string. He takes a slight step back anyways. He didn’t used to do that.

“Order for Martin?” An American voice, uni student probably. He thanks her and makes a point to drop a few quid in the tip jar, seeing it frustratingly empty for such a busy café.

Martin takes a small porcelain plate in each hand, a mug and pastry balanced on each, and makes his way carefully back to the sofa where he had left Jon. Only, he couldn’t see his curly hair, tied up in his half-bun, over the back of the sofa. Did he go to the loo?

It’s when Martin steps over to the side of the couch to set the plates down that he bursts into laughter. Jon is sprawled in a way that seems completely unconducive to reading: his knees are hooked over the sofa, so his socked feet (shoes neatly deposited next to his hips) are on the cushion itself. His torso is stretched on the warm, well-swept wood floor and his head (and his book) are tucked under the coffee table; arms locked over his head so he can read on his back. It looks ridiculous, he cannot fathom what possessed Jon to sit like this and not on his back on the couch.

Jon hears his laughter and arcs his neck, trying to see Martin’s face. “It was…comfortable?” he tries helplessly, giggling awkwardly. “Oh, piss off,” he sighed, inelegantly worming his way out from under the seat.

“Come on, old man.” Martin grins, handing him the cupcake he’d bought for him, with a single purple candle pressed into it. “Make a wish!”

“It’s not even lit,” Jon protested, cheeks flushing.

“Want me to sing instead? I can.” Martin took a deep breath. “Happy Bir-”

“N-no! Martin, no!” Jon pressed a hand over his mouth, though he was giggling madly at Martin’s wild expression. “I’ll blow it out. Just hush.” He took a deep breath, closed his eyes for a moment, and then let out a breath in a sigh. His eyes were soft, smile to match. “I…I don’t have anything to wish for.”

Martin’s turn to blush. “Just-just shut up and eat your cake,” he mumbled, hiding his smile in a sip of his tea.

Maybe its how at-peace he feels, maybe it’s his ADHD (its definitely the ADHD), but Martin has no idea how long he’s been reading. He’s brought out of his reverie, his copy of In Cold Blood almost finished (he’s read it before, but god he loves this book so much), by a low noise he can’t pick out at first. It’s quiet, soothing, its right next to him.

Oh. Oh. It’s Jon. This one, a real compulsion left over from his time as an Archivist, Jon is reading aloud to himself, his voice the sonorous, resonant tone of a man performing for himself. Martin puts his book down carefully, trying not to alert Jon to his awareness, and listens, letting the words wash over him. Jon’s voice has always been able to capture Martin’s attention, even before the Eldritch Spooky Magic that eventually attached itself to it.

“Klemmer stands there, gazing at her. “Erika doesn’t want a silence to develop, so she utters a platitude. Art is platitudinous for Erika because she lives off art. How much easier it is for the artist, says the woman, to hurl feelings or passions out of himself. When an artist resorts to dramatic devices, which you so greatly esteem, Klemmer, he is simply utilizing bogus methods while neglecting authentic ones. She talks to prevent the eruption of silence. I, as a teacher, favor undramatic art – Schumann, for instance. Drama is always easier! Feelings and passions are always merely a substitute, a surrogate for spirituality. The teacher yearns for an earthquake, for a roaring, raging tempest to pounce upon her. That wild Klemmer is so angry that he almost drills his head into the wall. The clarinet class next door, which he, the owner of a second instrument, has been frequenting twice a week, would certainly be astonished if Klemmer’s angry head suddenly emerged from the wall, next to Beethoven’s death mask. Oh, that Erika, that Erika. She doesn’t sense that he is actually talking about her, and naturally about himself as well! He is connecting Erika and himself in a sensual context, ejecting the spirit, that enemy of the senses, that primal foe of the flesh. She thinks he is referring to Schubert, but he really means himself, just as he always means himself whenever he speaks. “He suddenly ventures to adopt a familiar tone with Erika; using a formal tone, she advises him to remain objective! Her mouth puckers, willy-nilly, into a wrinkly rosette; she cannot control it. She controls what the mouth says, but she cannot control the way it presents itself to the outside world. She gets goosebumps all over.”

Martin closes his eyes against the words, a shiver running down his spine, starting at the top of his skull. It’s a feeling he gets so rarely now, the feeling of being so absolutely content in the presence of another person that any fog he may have is physically expunged from him. Not that there is any, but it’s a safeguard; a reminder to himself that he is not Lonely anymore and will never be lonely again. It can’t get him, not here, not with Jon sprawled, almost in his lap, reading and sipping tea and letting the only thing they worry about be whether they fed the cat this morning (Jon did, of course, Reggie is not one to let them forget her morning meal).

“Martin?” Jon’s voice cuts through his quiet contemplation. “You alright?” He’s tilting his head back, almost upside down to look at Martin’s face. “I felt you shudder.” Of course, even deep in his trance of this story he had felt Martin shift.

“Of course, sweetheart,” he smiles reassuringly, carding the hair off Jon’s forehead. “I’m not feeling lonely, not even a little bit.” He used to do it a lot in the safehouse, and fog would roll off him in droves. Jon would hold him through it all. “I think it just happens now like part of an immune system, just checking in when I’m feeling emotional.”

“Emotional?” Jon looks a little relieved, but not entirely. He sits up, glancing down at his page number (Martin could never figure out how Jon did that, remembered his page number instead of using a bookmark) and cups Martin’s face gently, searching it. “What’s wrong?”

“Absolutely nothing, Jon, I promise. That was why I was emotional,” he admits, feeling a little sheepish. “It’s just good to feel happy. It feels good to be with you, to be at peace, to not worry about what is going to happen tomorrow and whether we’re going to die.”

Martin blushes, feeling heat spread through his face. It feels good to say it out loud. “Happy birthday, Jon. I love you.”

They leave with bags full of books, smiles on their faces and the moon casting a faint light on their backs. Martin falls asleep in the cab on the way home, his head lilting onto Jon’s shoulder. When Jon wakes him up, leading his sleepy partner up the stairs,

Jon thinks 35 maybe won’t be so bad, after all.

#tma fic #tma fanfic #the magnus archives #jmart #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #fluff #birthday #bookshop #cafe #good vibes all around #fanfic to a tea

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screamingatanemptyroom · 4 years

Text

Chaos Magic Pt 2

Here’s part two to my short story of the Devil, the witch and the magic of chaos.

Part 1 linked here.

Hope you guys like it!

______________________________

As we stood outside the door to the building housing the Gathering Portal, I paused, looking back at the once again disguised devil.

“Just to warn you… the Witches’ Council doesn’t exactly like me all that much.”

Lucifer shrugged. “So?”

“So… as my ‘servant’… don’t expect a warm welcome. You’ll probably be looked down on. “ I studied him doubtfully. “Can you hold back from frying them with hellfire?”

He thought it over. “Probably?”

-Probably? Cal’s voice was skeptical.

“I mean, if you can hold off destroying them with your world ending chaos magic, I can’t see why I can’t hold off incinerating their worthless corpses. Even if they should be prostrating themselves before me and sobbing with fear.”

“…”

- He’ll last ten minutes before cracking.

“Don’t you have any confidence in me?!”

I shook my head. “That’s a little overboard, Cal. He is the devil, after all.”

“At least the witch knows my true worth…”

“I’ll bet he cracks in five.”

“WHAT?”

-Ten bucks.

“Deal!”

Lucifer threw up his hands. “Why is no one listening to me?!”

“We’re listening. Did you want in on the bet?”

-Yeah, join in! More money for me! Morgan never gives me enough spending cash.

“What do you mean I don’t give you enough money?! You’re a sword! What are you going to spend it on? Polish?”

-Cheapskate.

“Earn your own money then!”

“…” The devil stared at me with a tired expression as I argued with the invisible magic weapon. “Let’s just go in.”

We entered the building, only to be immediately confronted by a member of the Witches’ Guard. They were an elite force that protected the council, and the yearly Gathering, from all opposing forces. Soldiers who had trained in both weapons and magic, they were the best of the best…

Unfortunately, they were all too well aware of that fact.

“State your name and business.” A dark haired knight watched us suspiciously, his silver armor gleaming in the scattered torches around the room. His weapon, a spear glowing with a faint green light, was pointed in our direction.

“Morgan, here with my servant for the Gathering.” I held up my palm, a small intricately detailed tattoo on my palm lighting up briefly before fading back into invisibility.

The knight’s eyes widened. “A descendant of Morgan la Fay?”

“Apparently.”

The man’s gaze turned disdainful almost immediately. He turned, spitting at the ground. “Mothersbane! The cursed child dares to return?”

Lucifer shuffled uncomfortably beside me, but I didn’t flinch at his disgusted question. “Whether I dare or not is none of your business. I am a recognized witch here for the Gathering. My pass is in order. The question is, do you dare to stop me?”

The threat hung in the air between us. Finally, the knight opened his mouth, likely to spew more insults, when a more sinister, feminine voice spoke up.

“Cousin, I can’t believe you showed up!” A young woman my own age slipped by me, standing next to the knight with vicious grin. “I thought you had decided to hide away from these sort of meetings to spare yourself the embarrassment.”

I looked at her quietly for a moment. She was a beautiful girl, but something always was slightly off about her appearance. Her features were delicate and soft, her sharp, angry blue eyes seeming out of place framed by such a pleasant appearance. At my gaze she flipped her dark curls over her shoulder, laughing softly.

“What’s wrong, cousin? Lost for words after all this time?”

“Your cousin?” Lucifer whispered incredulously.

“Her name is Araina. A much more distant relation then that.” I reluctantly answered.

-Morgana’s line has always been very straightforward. There is only ever one descendant, and they always only have one daughter. There will only ever be one true heir to Morgan la Fay, and it’s my master! All these so called “relatives” are distant relations through marriage.

“Doesn’t that mean that you have to have a child to continue the line?” Lucifer glanced at me with a sympathetic expression.

“Only if I care to continue it.”

- I volunteer! You can have kids with me!

“… We don’t have time for a birds and bees talk, Cal. You’re a sword. It would never work.”

- Don’t worry, I’ll handle all those insignificant details.

Lucifer snorted. “Pretty sure you being an object is a pretty significant detail.”

- Stay out of childbearing negotiations!

“Nope, No more childbearing negotiations.” I shook my head. “Childbearing negotiations are indefinitely put on hold.”

As Lucifer and I shared a whispered argument with the suddenly enthusiastic invisible magical weapon, Araina’s expression grew more and more annoyed.

“Cousin, don’t you think you’re being very rude?” She finally spoke up again, forcing the words through gritted teeth.

I smiled gently. “Oh Miss Araina, please refrain from calling me cousin.” I shrugged helplessly. “After all, the family cut ties with me years ago.” Patting her shoulder helplessly, I continued. “I can understand though, it can be difficult to remember major family events with limited mental capacity.”

The Knight beside Araina widened his eyes with shock at my words. “YOU DARE…?!”

She held up her hand. “It’s okay, Martin. She can’t help but strike out at others in her own weakness.” Staring at me with a smile, she slowly continued. “Speaking of weakness… I suppose you haven’t heard of the new rule passed by the Council last session?”

What is she up to? “Rule?”

Her smile widened. “All Grade D and below witches must wear their grade marking at all times to prevent confusion during clan negotiations.”

“So just me then.” The Gathering was limited to witches of the noble clans, it was extremely rare to have a witch from these families test lower than Grade C, and the few that did refused to go to the meetings. I would be the only one to have to bear the humiliation of having my Grade marking displayed. It was my family’s petty way to discourage me from coming.

Araina’s expression was innocent. “Of course it’s not a rule just targeting you! It’s purely for the good of the clans. Here, let me help you…” She reached out towards my forehead.

-She dares to humiliate my master? Let’s chop her arm off! Cal roared silently in our heads.

“Agreed.” Lucifer snarled quietly, hellflame gathering around his fingers. I reached out, grabbing his arm, keeping my expression bland.

A burning pain appeared on my forehead, and I knew that a shimmering grey insignia had appeared on the skin there, the words in a language that only witch’s could understand. It declared my status as a Grade E, the lowest of the low. The shame of my family.

I grinned, ignoring the pain. “Anything else?”

That caught her by surprise. She studied my expression for a few moments, as if looking for the pain and humiliation that should be there but wasn’t. “No. I’ll go on ahead, cousin. Just remember to leave the grade marking in place.” She muttered under her breath. “Not that you have enough power to remove it even if you wanted to.”

She turned away from me, pausing briefly at the sight of Lucifer. “You… you are my cousin’s servant?”

He raised an eyebrow. “I’m Miss Morgan’s servant.”

“You should consider changing sides while you still can. If you think you can gain any benefits because she’s in the direct line of Morgan la Fay, then think again. She’s lost her inheritance due to her own incompetence.” She looked him up and down. “You’re not really up to my usual standard appearance-wise, but I’d be willing to make an exception and take you in as one of my servants instead.”

She smiled at him, leaning over to show off her low neckline to its fullest advantage. I wanted to groan with embarrassment for her.

Is she literally trying to tempt the original tempter? This is so sad.

-Hey little devil, why don’t you take up that annoying woman’s offer? You can still get into the Gathering, and my master and me can actually take care of business without your dead weight.

Lucifer rolled his eyes. “No thanks.”

Araina frowned at his words. “Choose carefully, servant. You won’t get this good of an offer again.”

“There’s no need for any further consideration.” He smiled grimly. “I’m not switching.”

“Fine!” The young woman snapped, turning towards the portal. “Enjoy the gathering, cousin.”

I sighed with relief once she was gone.

“Why did you let her get away with that?” Lucifer asked, staring at me with a confused expression.

“The insults? Or the insignia?”

“Both! Don’t you have the power to obliterate her?”

-Exactly! I like the way you think, Devil. Even if you are dead weight.

I grinned. “This is nothing. These sorts of childish games… it’s never been worth my time.”

“… You don’t think I’m dead weight like the sword says, right?”

At Lucifer’s question I stared up at the ceiling, keeping my voice monotone. “…Of course not.”

“You’re obviously lying.”

“…No.”

“That time was even worse!” Lucifer sounded near tears. When in the eons of my existence has anyone ever considered me dead weight?”

-That’s what you get for hanging out with your superiors!

“Don’t say that, Cal. “ At my words, Lucifer, who had been hanging his head down, looked up hopefully.

“It’s not his fault he’s weak. You shouldn’t tease him.”

“Both of you shut up!” Ignoring our laughter, he stomped ahead of us, walking towards the portal.

As I followed behind him, the knight guard looked at the glowing insignia on my forehead with a satisfied expression.

“Useless trash.” He muttered under his breath.

I ignored him, stepping into the portal. But just as I was transporting, I heard a scream of pain, and looked over just in time to catch sight of the knight, who was now leaping around trying to put out the green flames which had mysteriously sprung up from the seat of his pants.

-How long was that?

I checked my watch. “Four minutes and twenty eight seconds.”

-So disappointing. Can I use an IOU?

“You still owe me twenty bucks for the last bet you lost.”

-It’s just a run of bad luck. I’m happy to pay you with an eternity of love and affection.

“Cash only.”

-Harsh. Hey devil boy, You just had to let the hellfire loose! Your weak self control got me into this mess, pay the lady!

“Pay your own bad bets.” Lucifer grinned. “Plus, he deserved it. “

______________________________

We headed into the main Gathering space. With a few days still left before the true meeting started, there were not too many witches who had arrived yet. However even the small groups stood together, staring at the glowing insignia on my forehead, whispering to each other.

“Mothersbane.”

“The cursed one.”

“She dared to show up here?”

“I thought she was dead.”

I put their voices behind me, looking at the various glowing signs that pointed out the different directions.

“The forbidden library is on the lowest level. If you want to research up on chaos magic, and who might have access to it, that’s your best bet.”

Lucifer glanced at me curiously. “What about you?”

“I’m sure my lovely family members won’t sit still for long now that they know I’m here. Once I’ve survived whatever fallout that brings, I’ll look for clues on where to go next tonight.”

- Can we at least kill them all this time?

“And have to handle all the administrative and diplomatic work on my own? No, better to let them enjoy their temporary titles and authority. Of course… If they get too much in my way…” I trailed off with a grin.

I caught a glimpse of movement out of the corner of my eye, and sighed quietly to myself. “They moved even faster than I expected. If you’re going to not be involved in this, I suggest you move now.”

“…” Lucifer studied at me with a thoughtful expression. “I’ll stay. With your chaos magic, you’re my best chance for getting to the bottom of this whole mess anyways.”

“Suit yourself.” I shrugged. “Should be interesting either way.”

Four guards strode up to us, hands on their weapons. “Morgan ne Mothersbane. The matron has summoned you.”

-That old bat has gone too far!

Mothersbane. They had taken my clan name and given me a cursed one instead.

“It’s okay, Cal. It’s just a name.” Muttering quietly to keep the magical weapon calm, I followed behind the guards, keeping my hands clenched at my sides,

One of them tried to stop Lucifer. “Just the witch has been summoned.”

“That’s my servant, he’s completely harmless.” I sent a silent prayer to no one as they scanned him with their power.

“Fine. One more weakling won’t make a difference.”

Lucifer caught up to me, his face stiff with rage. “Weakling? I’ll torture their souls in hell for eternity.”

I patted him on the shoulder. “Of course you will.”

-Don’t worry little devil, we’ll help you get revenge on whoever bullies you.

“I don’t need your help! I’m strong, damnit!”

______________________________

We were brought into the council room, an all too familiar sight. On elevated seats in a semicircle sat the Council members, all watching me with disdainful expression barely visible from the shadow of their black hoods. Only my Aunt Margaret, the acting Matron, stood with her head uncovered, her eyes narrowed as we drew closer.

“You’ve returned.” Her voice was flat, dislike lacing her every syllable.

“And you haven’t lost your touch with wasting time with the obvious. Anything else you want to talk about?”

Her jaw tightened at my retort, but as her eyes glanced over the Grade marking on my forehead her face relaxed into a triumphant smile. “I have family business to discuss with you.”

I forced a smile. “I’m not part of the family. You kicked me out, remember?”

“Like it or not, you are Morgana’s sole direct heir. You have failed your primary duty of taking leadership in the council due to your disappointing weakness. But now we must consider your secondary duty.” Her eyes bore into me, almost seeming to dig into my flesh “I’m glad you decided to come on your own. Otherwise I would have sent someone to fetch you this year.”

“Get to the point, Margaret.” I felt my nails digging into the palm of my hands, and tried unsuccessfully to unclench my fists.

“You must carry on Morgan la Fay’s line. To accomplish this, we will arrange a man of suitable power for you to be given to with the hopes that your offspring will be better suited for the position of descendant than you are.” Her smile widened. “You should be grateful. With your… quality, you would never have a chance to even lay eyes on powerful men like this.”

“And if I refuse?” My voice was cold.

Hers was colder. “You will not be given a choice. Enslavement magic is distasteful, but has its purposes in light of the greater good.”

“And when is this to occur?” I felt a power gathering at my fingertips, a sense of destruction filling my soul.

“After the Gathering. I have an important guest arriving, and my full attention must be given to him.”

At the words, “important guest” I noted the discomfort on many of the women’s faces, and a gut feeling had me pushing down the destructive force I had come so close to letting loose. It was difficult; the power resisted being placed back after coming so close to being able to consume everything in the room.

“Anything else?” I pushed the words through gritted teeth. It was difficult to focus on anything but the need to destroy everyone and everything. My muscles were shaking with the effort, a cold sweat breaking out on my forehead.

“No. Enjoy the Gathering.” Her satisfied smirk made my struggle all the more difficult. “Do not try to leave, or I’ll have my men drag you back.”

“Sure.” Not that it mattered. Any men they sent after me would be destroyed.

As I turned to leave, I heard Margaret call my name one last time. I glanced back, only to see her hold up a small silver ring.

“This was your mother’s. Why don’t you take it back, appreciate the weight of your new name. “

She tossed it in my direction, and without thinking I reached out and grabbed it. As the cold metal touched my skin, I felt the memories my mother had left behind flood into me.

______________________________

“Face it, he didn’t give you a gift, he poisoned you! This child is stealing your life force, destroying you from the inside! Who knows what sort of monster you’re carrying.”

“No, I refuse to believe it! He loved me! I know he truly cares! And he’ll love our daughter too!”

“OPEN YOUR EYES! He killed you!”

“You’re lying!”

______________________________

I shuddered, almost falling to the floor as I felt the walls close in. A pair of warm hands caught me, and the devil’s voice whispered in my ear.

“Should I kill them?”

I took a deep breath, trying to find a balance. With my emotions thrown out of order, my power which had been barely constrained was even closer to breaking free. “They still have one last use. Just get me to the resting rooms.”

He supported me with one arm, and we struggled out of the room under my aunt’s triumphant gaze. As we navigated the different twists and turns of the Gathering area, I slowly focused on my breathing, forcing my power down, feeling my willpower drain. Cal was uncharacteristically quiet, likely realizing I couldn’t afford the distraction.

As he pulled me into a resting room, Lucifer set me down on a bed, his eyes concerned. “Are you okay?”

I wanted to answer, but felt it was getting more and more difficult to talk. Even if I could, what could I say?

Mothersbane… they forced the name on me, but it didn’t make it untrue.

Monster… What else could they call someone who struggled not to destroy everything and everyone?

I was so tired. Why had I agreed to come back again?

Oh yeah, for a chance to kill that bastard.

As I opened my mouth to try to explain, I heard a very familiar voice speak out loud rather than in my head, a cold palm covering my eyes.

“Just rest, Morgan.”

Feeling relieved, I felt myself slip quickly into unconsciousness.

I wasn’t under long before hearing two voices discussing me quietly.

“Does this happen often?”

“Only when she’s trying to hold back the chaos magic and not destroy everything, which seems to happen more often now that you’re here.” It was Cal’s voice, but speaking out loud instead of silently in my head. Confused, I wanted to open my eyes, but I felt like my eyelids each weighed a ton, well beyond my ability to lift.

“I don’t think you can blame me for this one.” The devil whistled quietly. “That family of hers is something, huh? They make even demons seem friendly.”

“This? This is nothing for them.” I felt a cool hand on my forehead, the grade marking fading at the touch. “The suffering they put her through… it’s a miracle that this world exists at all.”

He wasn’t wrong. How many times during my childhood did he pull me back from the edge? From releasing all the chaos within me to destroy myself and the world with me?

“Why are they like this?”

I didn’t want Cal to have to answer. I forced my eyes open. “You heard what they called me?”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a golden-haired figure disappear. I rubbed my eyes, thinking it might have been an illusion.

- Are you okay?

His voice was silent in my head once more. I sighed, putting the memories the ring had forced into my head aside.

“Don’t worry, my power is suppressed, Cal.”

-That’s not what I…

“You were the one who asked, Lucifer. Did you hear the name they gave me after taking my family name?

He nodded. “Mothersbane?”

“My conception was warped with chaos magic.” I smiled grimly. “My bastard of a father wanted to end Morgana’s line, and gain a massive reward at the same time. You see, chaos magic can be grown within a soul, but it always comes at a cost.”

Lucifer studied me carefully. “What cost?”

“The souls of others, preferably the powerful. My mother was a young naïve witch who refused to hate my father even as her child infected with chaos slowly sucked the life from her within her womb. Of course, I was always meant to die, destroyed by chaos, a sacrifice to increase my father’s power while ending Morgana’s line with my death. “

- But I took advantage of the weakness created in her father as he had used almost all of his chaos magic for the sacrifice and left him, forming a pact with Morgan instead.

I smiled. “Cal is an ultimate weapon of light, of order. The antithesis to the chaos magic which wants to consume me and the world around me. The power given to me by that pact balances me out, allows me to survive.” My grin became cruel. “With the added bonus that my father was greatly weakened by not being able to reclaim his chaos magic as well as losing Cal.”

-We would have killed him too, if he hadn’t hidden deeply to recover like the rat he is!

Lucifer stared at us both. “Who is your father, Morgan?”

“The enemy who wanted to personally end Morgana’s line? The master of Excalibur? The man who lusted for such great power that he would sacrifice his own child?” I chuckled. “Are you sure you don’t know?”

“I thought Arthur was the master of Excalibur…”

Cal interrupted the devil.

-He was a good man, if a little naïve. He trusted the wrong man, and ended up being the first soul to be sacrificed to the chaos magic.

“Wait, you couldn’t mean…?” Lucifer turned slightly pale, his red eyes widening with realization.

I laughed softly, before standing up. “We’ve wasted enough time,. Let’s go to the library.”

He stood up with me, his eyes still worried. “But your condition?”

“It was just the tactile memories from my mother’s ring.” I stared down at the metal object still in my hand, before opening it slowly and letting it fall silently to the carpet beneath my feet.

Lucifer looked down at it. “If it’s your mother’s, don’t you want it?”

“No.” I turned away, and walked towards the door. “I’d rather honor her memory by sending her murderer over to apologize to her in pieces.”

We headed towards the library.

______________________________

We snuck by the guards standing watch outside the forbidden library as well as bypassed all the magical wards with surprising ease.

“I’m glad we had you here. Lucifer. My standard magic is too weak to deal with this sort of stuff, and the chaos magic tends to be an all or nothing type deal. I’m glad we didn’t have to obliterate the guards and entranceway just to get in.”

-How surprising, devil. You can be useful for something!

Lucifer sighed. “You guys really have to stop acting surprised every single time I’m useful, like I’m some sort of child. I’m the king of hell!”

“Of course! Next time we need to open a door we’ll definitely call you!”

- You are definitely the King of opening doors!

“… I hate you both so much.”

The forbidden library was enormous, the size of multiple sky scrapers melded together, kept hidden through ancient magics that bended space. Every spare surface was covered in shelves packed with books, scrolls and tablets. Some glowed strange colors, some flickering in and out of sight. Small magical platforms moved independently around the library, transporting items in and out as they were requested. I looked around, feeling mildly impressed as always, before taking one of the transports over and heading to the area dedicated to chaos magic.

“Will they even have something helpful?”

I shrugged at the devil’s question. “I would hope so.” I quickly found the documents pertaining to major events in the last few months. Within it was a map that detailed the disappearance of witches over the past year. The seemingly patternless dots scattered across the city map glowed in a dull green light.

Lucifer sucked in a breath. “So many? How has this gone unnoticed for so long?”

- It was perfectly calculated to how many each race was willing to overlook.

“Spread across the demons, angels and witches… who knows how many normal humans and supernatural creatures have been lost as well.” Turning to the devil who stood beside me with an irritated expression, I prompted him carefully. “Can you add the locations of the disappearances you know about as well?”

“Fine.” With a wave of his hand, red and blue dots also appeared along the map. “The red are mine. The blue are those I know about that Heaven has lost.”

With the additional data, it became increasingly clear that there was a pattern to the locations of those who disappeared. A center of the chaos.

“We should find him there.” I pointed at the location, frowning. “But that only narrows it down to a whole section of the city. He could be hiding anywhere within.”

“I could have the demons search all the houses?”

- He would just destroy any that entered his territory. We’ll just have to do it personally.

“But that could take forever!”

“Maybe not.” I grinned. “After all, I can’t help but wonder about my Aunt’s ‘special guest’…”

-You think…?”

“The sword should be this way.” A familiar voice spoke up, from around the corner.

“Speak of the devil.”

Lucifer raised an eyebrow. “Pardon?”

“Not you, just an expression.”

“Why does this ‘important guest’ of yours want this sword anyways? If he’s so powerful, he could just take it himself!” A petulant, spoiled, voice asked, the sound of two sets of footsteps growing closer.

- Araina. What’s she doing here?

“Nevermind that, We need to hide!” I whispered back.

“Sure.” Lucifer shrugged, snapping his fingers and activating an invisibility spell.

- The devil was useful again!

“Shut up!”

Aunt Margaret and Araina entered the room before Lucifer could argue further. “ I told you, foolish girl! It would be bad if the council were to realize we were working with him, given our… bad history. And besides, I’d rather he not see that cursed girl until he’s finished the ceremony at the full moon tonight.”

Finish the ceremony? My fists tightened at my side, shaking with rage.

“Why can’t we just kill her?” Araina rolled her eyes. “It’s not like she would be difficult to get rid of!”

“We need a backup plan, in case this new cooperation falls through.” My Aunt Margaret’s answer caused me to stiffen into place, clutching the new map in my arms. “She may be weak and useless, but she’s the only one who can continue Morgana’s line.”

“Worthless trash.”

“Don’t be so upset, Darling. She’s not worth your time or energy. Let’s get the sword.”

As they passed out of the room, Lucifer and I flickered back into sight.

-Killing time?

Ignoring Cal, I turned towards the devil. “We need to steal the sword, and replace it with a fake. How good is your illusion magic?”

The devil grinned, his plain disguised features melting back into his original insultingly handsome look. “I could convince half of heaven to follow me. You think I can’t fool a couple of witches?”

- I’m impressed! If this keeps up, little devil, I might even consider accepting you as my apprentice!

“Who would want to be your apprentice, you stupid overgrown knife?!”

- Morgan, the devil is calling me names! Destroy him with your chaos magic please!

I chuckled. “Aren’t you supposed to be helping me restrain my chaos magic?”

- Desperate times.

“...Let’s go steal that sword.”

It was surprisingly easy. The two women got into several useless arguments along the way to the weapons section, allowing Lucifer and I to sneak past while invisible and reach it first. As we entered the room with countless weapons on display, Lucifer glanced around, seeming impressed.

“Which one do you think they were after?”

“The only one my father would need if he wanted to have a weapon against chaos magic.” I pointed to a sword tucked away in the back corner. “A sword of order, like Cal.”

-Oh please, that hack is nothing like my great and wonderful self! Just a generic magic sword. Not even a soul to guide it.

I raised a hand, chaos magic destroying the magical chain keeping it in place. Picking up the sword, I gave a light practice swing, nodding at the light weight. “It’s still a good sword. It’s considered legendary overseas, known as the ‘sword of light.’ It’s defeated multiple world-ending foes.”

-I’m still better.

“Here.” I tossed the sword to Lucifer before Cal could get too nervous. “To replace the ones the chaos monsters destroyed before. This one can actually fight them.”

He gripped the handle, looking the weapon over briefly before strapping it to his side. “I like how it doesn’t talk constantly.”

-Hey!

I grabbed a random sword and placed it where the sword of light had been stored. “Alright, you can cast illusion now.”

With the trap in place, all that was left was to follow my aunt and cousin as they led us right towards the center of town.

______________________________

-We were right, they’re heading right towards the location we had marked on the map. They must know where he is!

I nodded. “I shouldn’t be surprised, but I still cannot believe that those of Morgana’s name would associate with him at all. “

Lucifer glanced at me. “But didn’t your mother…?”

“He was disguised.” I interrupted, frowning. “She didn’t realize who she was being tricked by even until the end.”

“… I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. The line of Morgana has been twisted for too long.” I sighed. “They rely on the name of a witch that’s been dead for centuries, while forgetting that the enemy she fought never rested, never disappeared.”

-Morgan…

“The line should have ended with my mother, but instead it will end with me.”

Lucifer looked as if he were going to argue, but shook his head, falling silent instead. Fortunately at that time we reached a large abandoned warehouse, the sun setting behind us as the two witches knocked on the door, giving a password to the stone faced guard who opened it to be let inside. I glanced at the fading sunlight as we slipped in behind them, remembering their words.

He’ll finish the ceremony at the full moon tonight.

There wasn’t much time left. My heart pounding in my ears, I followed them deeper into the warehouse, pushing back the chaos magic that threatened to surface with my uncontrolled emotions.

- Are you going to be okay? Cal’s voice whispered in my ear, for only me to hear.

I nodded silently.

-I’ll be there with you. I promise. We’ll kill him for everything he’s done.

I kept moving.

It was time to see my father again.

______________________________

We entered the main area of the warehouse, the space much larger than what it seemed from the outside. The walls extended into darkness, making it impossible to see what was hidden in the shadows beyond. Ahead of us glowed two candles to either side of a golden throne.

“Welcome, Margaret.” A strong, low voice spoke up from the figure slouched on that throne, as he lazily turned a hand around, making the flames from the candles dance with the movement. The moving lights occasionally lit up his features, giving me the first good look at my greatest enemy, the murderer of my mother, the one who inflicted the magic that could destroy the world on me.

My father.

His face still was young, without wrinkles or lines, the features smooth and regular. His hair was and ordinary brown, looking slightly unkempt, falling over his face and forcing him to brush it back. He would be considered handsome by many, if not a little forgettable… except for his eyes.

The centuries he had lived showed in his eyes. Bright green, glowing with power, his eyes seemed to stare right through every person, judging them of their worth, making you feel unprotected, weak.

Margaret and her daughter curtsied deeply in front of him, cold sweat breaking out on both their faces. It seemed they felt his power even more strongly, facing the full force of his gaze.

“Milord, we brought the sword you requested.” Margaret held up the sword that Lucifer had enchanted to look like the sword of light in front of her, her hands trembling.

“…” He didn’t reach out to take it.

My nails bit into my palms, as I forced myself not to throw myself forward, putting my thpoughts into order.

I would need my magic, but it had to be controlled. Otherwise it would destroy everything.

“Are you really sincere about allying yourself with me, witch?” His voice was a whisper, but seemed like a shout despite the large space.

“Milord?” Margaret seemed confused.

“Did you change your mind, given your family’s history with me?” He smiled, the expression threatening. “Did you decide to betray me to earn points with the rest of Morgana the bitch’s pitiful line?”

She panicked at his words. “I would never betray you! I swear! I brought the sword just like you asked!”

He snapped his fingers, and a purple smoke enveloped the sword in her hands, destroying it.

Chaos magic.

-It’s powerful, but still not pure like your magic. Cal’s voice reassured me.

Margaret screamed in pain, clutching her hands to her chest. Through her fingers blood seeped, staining her dress and dripping to the floor. His magic had corroded her hands as well.

“This is a fake, a regular weapon under an illusion, not the true sword of light.” The man stood up, glancing around the room. My hackles rose as his gaze fixed on us standing behind them, despite the invisibility spell. “And it seems you brought friends?”

“…”

When no one spoke up he sighed. “Now, now, uninvited guests, isn’t it better if you just show yourself?”

Lucifer sighed, waving his hand as he became visible, leaving me still out of sight. “Your insight is as keen as ever, you old bastard.”

The man’s eyebrows raised in surprise. “Lucifer the king of Hell? What brings you to my humble home?”

“You really are going to act innocent after sacrificing my minions to feed your chaos magic?” Lucifer chuckled. “You always did love the dramatic, Merlin.”

My father smiled as the devil spoke his name.

Merlin.

The great magician. The ancient power that ushered in an age of light and justice. A Grade A Magician. A man of legends.

A murdering madman.

“Can’t you be reasonable?” Merlin smiled widely. “It’s just a few demons here and there! I’ll gladly compensate you however you like?”

“And if I ask for you life?” Lucifer’s eyes seemed to freeze the room with their coldness.

Merlin didn’t flinch. “Then you’ll be destroyed. It’s a much better deal to bargain with me, I assure you.”

“…” There was a silence as the devil looked him up and down, seemingly seriously considering his offer.

-If he betrays you… Cal sounded slightly worried.

I shook my head, smiling.

“No thanks.” Lucifer grinned. “I already got a better offer.”

“A better offer? From who?”

I canceled the invisibility magic that was still on me, and stepped forward, the sound of my footsteps echoing loudly in the empty space. Margaret and Araina stared at me in shock as I walked past them, Araina managing to lift a hand to point, stuttering. “Y-you!”

Merlin studied me carefully, frowning. “Who are you?”

I laughed out loud, placing a hand on my heart. “What, you don’t recognize me?” I pretended to wipe a tear away. “I’m hurt.”

“…” He stared silently at me, refusing to answer.

“Well then, I guess it’s up to me to make the introductions.” I bowed slightly, keeping my hand on my heart. “My name is Morgan, last daughter of Morganna’s line.”

Merlin’s eyes widened as I straightened up, still smiling.

“Nice to meet you, Father.”

“…”

I shrugged. “Although technically I have come to kill you to avenge my mother and satisfy my own personal hatred… So ‘nice’ probably isn’t the right word.”

“…The child?” He whispered. “I heard you were weak, useless? Any chaos magic that you absorbed should have drained your magic and life source by now… “ Looking me up and down, he shook his head. “You don’t seem weak.”

“That’s the problem with rumors, father dearest.” I tapped my face with a finger. “You end up with inaccurate information.”

Merlin’s gaze snapped to the two women kneeling off to the side. “You betrayed me.”

“No Milord, she is useless! She’s just a Grade E!” Margaret was panicking, waving her hands wildly as she spoke. “We’ve tested her multiple times!”

“Perhaps a bluff then?” With his quiet murmur, he waved a hand, and multiple large men wearing armor, their eyes glowing a bright purple. Stepped out of the shadows, swords drawn and pointed towards me.

“Enchanted soldiers?” I sighed. “Looks like we’re being tested Cal.”

-His mistake.

“Want help?” Lucifer called out, his hand on his sword.

“No need for just this much.” I raised a hand, and slowly released my magic.

The floor tried to warp away from me, as reality and fate were bent and broken in the space around me. Merlin’s eyes narrowed, shocked and he lifted his hand to call his magical soldiers back.

“Too late.” With a grim smile, I pushed my magic forward, and silently each knight faded out of existence, leaving not even the slightest trace behind. It also latched on to the golden throne, forcing him to his feet as the seat disappeared out from under him.

“Chaos magic?” Merlin covered his eyes with his hand. “I should have guessed when it never returned to me. The backlash at that time was too great, though, I had no choice but to go into hiding for my own safety.”

“Great, glad you have that figured out. Any last words before you die?”

“Don’t be arrogant, girl.” He snapped. “ You may have stolen some of my chaos magic, but I’ve regained plenty since!” He spread his arms, and a purple smoke surrounded him, tearing apart the space in between us. “I’ve been sacrificing plenty of souls to grow my powers, and what little you should have retained is no match!”

The smoke enveloped Aunt Margaret and Araina as they tried to scream in terror.

“Milord what are you doing?”

His gaze was merciless. “You were always meant to feed my power. As if I would let anyone who claimed kinship with that bitch Morgana survive.”

The two faded into the smoke, which seemed to grow stronger and thicker as it absorbed their fate.

My father grinned at me. “And now, with you here, I can take back some power, complete the ceremony and perfect my magic once more!”

“Strong words for a dead man.”

“You may have chaos magic, child, but so do I! You can’t kill me with it, and you don’t have any magical powers other than that, if you are a Grade E witch.”

He waved his hand once more, and countless monsters of chaos appeared, their glowing purple eyes fixed on me.

“I’m one of the greatest wizards in the world, with the highest caliber of magic and you are the last pathetic girl in a worthless line. All alone with no way out.”

I smiled, and he stepped back, startled at my reaction. “Who said I was alone?”

“Now can I help?”

- Finally!

My hand slapped to my chest, my palm connected with the golden tattoo beneath my shirt, the mark of Excalibur. From within my soul I pulled out the golden sword, and rushed into the nearest group of monsters.

Lucifer pulled out the real sword of light, and with a happy laugh launched himself into the air to land beside me, fighting back to back.

The creatures screamed with terror and the two swords of light and order swept through them, forcing them out of existence.

“Finally I get a chance to show off!” Lucifer muttered beside me, swinging his sword in broad sweeping strokes, taking out multiple creatures with each attack.

-You realize that my master is killing twice as many as you, right?

Cal let out a beams of light as I fought, taking down lines of the chaos monsters with each passing second.

Merlin watched the fight with an increasingly pale face, backing away slowly. “No, it can’t be. Excalibur… you chose her?”

The number of monsters was dwindling, and soon, Lucifer was enough to face off the remnant as I approached my father, Cal’s blade resting lightly on my shoulder.

“Why so shocked?” I grinned. “Just because you aren’t worthy doesn’t mean others can’t be.”

“Y-you…” His eyes darted between myself and the glowing golden blade. “You didn’t just keep a remnant of my old power, did you? You have ALL of it?” He backed away further. “That’s… that’s…”

“Enough to destroy the universe and everything in it?” I shrugged, swinging the sword behind me, cutting through a monster that had tried to sneak up on me while my attention was focused on my father. “Yes. Your point?”

Merlin was backed against a wall, trapped, and I pressed the tip of the golden blade in my hand against his chest, right over his heart.

“To think a child I made as a simple means to destroy Morgana’s line would be this powerful…” He muttered looking at me with different eyes than before, a calculating gaze. “No… maybe it was meant to be. Both of our blood, chaos magic… and Excalibur… you’re beyond what I could have ever dreamed.”

“…” I put more pressure on the sword, and the tip slowly sank into his chest. He didn’t react, still staring at me with an avid look.

“We’ll work together… we can rule everything. Heaven, Hell, Magic, Order… all would have to bow before us.” His smile was fanatical, a hand reaching out to touch my face gently, as if I were truly precious to him. “My daughter…”

His magic reached out, pulling at my emotions, making me want to drop my weapon, follow him to the ends of the earth.

You’ll be safe with him. The magic whispered in my ear. You’ll finally have a family, a home.

-Morgan… Cal whispered my name urgently, but the magic drowned his voice out.

A part of me screamed to give in. The girl who had grown up hated, looked down on. A worthless child who had killed her mother at birth. A powerless witch in a family of powerful magic. With only myself and a magic sword to depend on.

I wanted to say yes.

I smiled, my hand wrapped tightly around the golden handle of the sword. “Sounds like a great offer.”

Merlin’s face lit up.

“Just one problem…”

Thud. Cal’s blade pierced through the wizard’s chest, striking the wall behind him.

“I don’t want to rule Heaven, Hell or anything else.”

Blood dripped around the blade, pooling on the floor at our feet before disappearing into purple smoke. I poured my chaos magic into the wound, trying to destroy everything that Cal’s magic wouldn’t touch.

“I’m not seeking to be a legend, or to save the world.”

The wound in his chest was turning purple, as the chaos magic within him rejected the presence of ultimate weapon of fate and order. I let go of my normal restrictions I placed on my magic, pouring everything I had into him, focused on destruction.

“I’m just a Grade E witch, a mortal, trying to live a normal life and pay rent.”

He shook his head slightly, as if confused, his green eyes fixed on my own.

“Oh, and of course avenge my mother’s death.”

I twisted the blade and he let out a grunt, purple smoke pouring from his lips.

“You’ll… regret… this.”

“Promise?”

My father closed his eyes, and his body faded into nothingness, the purple smoke dissipating into thin air. I looked around, frowning, my chaos magic pulsing in my blood, roaring in my ears.

“Cal, is he gone?”

-I- I think so? I don’t sense him...

“Good.” I sighed with relief, taking a deep breath. The chaos magic pushed outwards against my control, wanting to consume everything. I had let out too much, relaxed my control too far in my desire to destroy him. I closed my eyes, fighting it with all my strength, knowing that if I lost control I could unleash everything, destroy everything.

-Morgan?! What’s wrong?

I shook my head slightly, unable to answer, slipping down to the ground as all of my strength focused inward.

“Cal, what’s going on?” Lucifer’s tired voice spoke up, concerned.

-She’s losing her chaos magic!

“That’s bad, isn’t it? Like, world ending bad?”

-Yeah, it’s world ending bad! Quick, stab me into her chest! I need to help her control it!

“S-stab her? Are you sure? Won’t that kill her?”

-DO IT!

Despite the internal battle going on, I felt the tip of Cal’s blade push into my chest over his mark, Cal’s power merging with my own.

Cal? I felt tired, overwhelmed, the chaos within me eroding at my thoughts, my fate disappearing into nothingness.

The voice that had been with me since my earliest memory spoke up inside my head.

-It’s okay, Morgan. We’ll seal it, together.

He joined me in the fight, his strength bolstering my own. Slowly, painfully, together, we pushed back the power of chaos and locked it within my soul once more.

-See? That wasn’t so bad!

Easy for you to say. I smiled silently, letting go of my consciousness in my relief.

______________________________

Lucifer stared down at the smiling unconscious girl, feeling unnerved.

I’ve been at the top for too long. He admitted quietly to himself with a grin. I forgot what it was like to face something stronger.

And Morgan was stronger than him. Having seen her wield Excalibur along with her magic, equal parts order and chaos, a force that could destroy the whole universe, he couldn’t help but feel weak in front of her. He watched her sleep, considering his options. Part of him wanted to take her out, destroy the threat while she was helpless. But the rest…

It’s not bad to have something this fun around. He grinned. Besides, I never was one for playing it safe.

“Hey, little devil, why are you smiling? Don’t even think about touching my master while she’s asleep!” Cal appeared in his human form beside Morgan, his golden eyes glaring fiercely.

Lucifer shrugged. “Don’t worry, I have no intention of harming her. At least not anytime soon.“ Thinking for a moment, he looked at the sword, confused. “Why do you only take on a human appearance when she’s unconscious?”

To his surprise the sword blushed. “None of your business!” Looking down at the girl, he muttered. “What if she doesn’t like how I look?”

Lucifer laughed. “Well, she called me hideous, so you may be right to worry about her aesthetic taste.” With a groan he stretched, frowning as his multiple small injuries ached. “Those chaos monsters were pretty powerful. No wonder my minions never stood a chance.”

“Or you’re just weak.”

Rolling his eyes, Lucifer turned away, looking around the empty warehouse and shrugging. “I guess we’re done here.”

Cal stood up, holding Morgan carefully in his arms. “I’ll tell her your goodbyes once she wakes up. Have fun back in hell.”

“Goodbyes?” The devil laughed. “No need to bother. See you later.”

And with that he was gone, leaving an increasingly nervous magical sword staring after him while clutching his master to his chest. “Later? What does he mean later? What a terrible thought.”

______________________________

I was having déjà vu.

Clutching a jar of pickles, I stared at what should have been my empty bed with a forlorn expression. “What are you doing here?”

The devil grinned as he flipped through my book, once again losing my place in the story to my dismay. “I had a favor to ask you.”

-See, I told you! Cal spoke up with an irritated voice. This is what happens when you make friends with weak creatures like him! They always want favors!

“Shut up, you stupid knife.” Lucifer grinned, setting down the book and spreading his hands. “You see, one of my old buddies in the Heavenly army contacted me…”

“So you came to brag that you still have friends?”

-Good for you. With your terrible personality it must be hard!

Cal and I clapped proudly. Groaning with frustration, Lucifer pushed back his hair and continued, ignoring us. “He saw something weird, an unexplainable magic. Something that seemed to destroy things without rhyme or reason.”

I stared at him with confusion. “So?”

“So, it might be chaos magic! Let’s go check it out!”

“…”

-…

“Why?”

“Why?” The devil frowned. “What do you mean why?”

“It sounds difficult.”

- I’d rather nap.

“I have to work, or I can’t pay my rent.”

“But… it will be fun!” Lucifer sat up, pouting. “It’s been so boring since the last adventure! Let’s go!”

“…” I looked at the devil who was trying to tempt me out of the house, and then down to the jar in my hands.

“Sorry pickles, we’re just never fated to be.”

CRASH! The jar struck Lucifer in the face and smashed into pieces.

I sighed as I ran in the opposite direction as fast as I could.

“MORGAN!”

#chaos magic #part 2 #fantasy #witches #devils #magic #revenge #fighting

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george-mackay-macfine · 4 years

Text

HoneyBird

** SMUT 18 OVER ONLY**

_______________________________________________________________________

SYNOPSIS:

Y/N is set up on a blind date by her best friend. When the date goes horribly wrong and she’s rescued by a gorgeous Brit she can’t get him off her mind

_______________________________________________________________________

“You may not control all the events that happen to you, but you can decide not to be reduced by them.”

- Maya Angelou

“How long has it been since you’ve had fun?” I looked up from the small cafe menu meeting the inquisitive gaze of my best-friend Sierra Parker. Her dark eyebrows furrowed over her bright blue eyes, raven black hair falling from behind her ear as she leaned across the small table. “And by fun I mean...” She looked down towards my lap as her thin lips upturned in a smirk.

“Sierra Parker, what would your mother say.” I gasped, grabbing the nearby napkin, laying it across my lap as if to add another layer of protection from her wandering eyes.

“She’d say Y/F/N Y/L/N when was the last time you got a good fuck.” My mouth dropped open as my best friend smirked triumphantly as the man sitting at the table across from us raised his eyebrow, ears pricking as he listened to our conversation. I leant forward on the table leaning down so I could hiss at her.

“Firstly, keep your voice down.” I sat up a little, elbows pressed on the dark stained timber. “Have you always been so loud?”

“Since the day you met me.” She chuckled leaning back in her chair, arms crossed over her chest. “But I’m serious, when was the last time you let a guy anywhere near your bedroom or got tied to another guys bed?”

“Who wants to be tied to someone else's bed?”

“Haven’t you watched Fifty Shades of Grey. It’s a whole new world out there.” She pushed her hair behind her ears. “So how long has it been? Three, four months?” She bit down on her bottom lip, pulling it between her teeth. Being friends with Sierra for as long as I had, gave me an insight into her ticks. When she felt guilty over something she nibbled on her bottom lip.

“What have you done?”

“Why do you think I’ve done something?” I watched her, eyebrow-raising in question. As the seconds ticked by Sierra began to look more guilty. Her lips turned into an awkward smile, something that happened only when she’d done something she knew she shouldn’t. “Alright fine.” Sierra held her hands up in a false surrender. “There’s a guy at Hudson’s work, Martin...”

“No.”

“And he’s seen your picture on Hudson’s Instagram.”

“No. I refuse to be the girl who her friends feel ’needs’ to be set up. I don’t even want a relationship.”

“And he asked Hudson if he could set something up, and Hudson said yes.” Sierra talked over me.

“Well, your fiancé has a lot of explaining to do with Martin then.” I crossed my arms over my chest and looked at my best friend anger rushing through my veins.

“Look, Hudson said we’d be going out for drinks tonight, and invited Martin to join us.” Sierra beamed. “Like a double date kind of thing.”

“Sierra,”

“Look, Y/N you don’t have to fuck him. You don’t even need to kiss him but what you do need is a bit of F-U-N...” Sierra Parker had always been crass when it came to matters of sex and bed-related matters. “Please do it for me. Hudson and I haven’t been out in a long time because of wedding planning, and this gives us the reason to have a fun night out fuelled by alcohol.” Sierra pleaded. I didn’t reply. “I’ll buy all your drinks.” She added a final hail mary prayer.

“Fine, but this is the last time you get to set me up.”

“This is the first time I’ve set you up.”

“Great, then it’ll be easy to break the habit.” I looked out the cafe window, the sun was begging to set over New York.

“When are we meeting them?” Sierra looked down at her watch.

“Half-an-hour.”

“This is why you told me to dress up.” Sierra chuckled slyly.

“Couldn’t risk you turning up in sweatpants.”

“There is nothing wrong with sweatpants.”

“There is when we’re trying to get someone to potentially remove the sweat pants from your body Y/N.”

“Must you be so crass, Sierra?” Sierra’s smile dropped, she leant forward on the table once more. Sincerity filled her eyes.

“Y/N, you’ve been my best friend since I was sixteen, I just want to see you smile, and be happy again.”

“I am happy Sierra.” I sat up straighter. “Thank you for caring enough to set up this date.” I tried to push out any thoughts of the forthcoming disaster. “Where is it all happening?” Sierra stood and grabbed her purse, pulling it over her shoulder.

“The Lucky, just around the corner. I’ll just go to the bathroom then we can leave?”

“Sure.” I nodded my head and watched her stand up and walk towards the cafe’s restrooms. As she left I caught a glance of myself in the reflection of the window. I probably looked like a lunatic as I studied myself, my hair was a dull brown, cut short to my shoulders, a far cry from the length it had been six months ago. Even though I couldn’t make them out I knew my eyes, also looked dull and lifeless as they stared back at me. I sat struggling to connect... to recognise the girl staring back at me even though her actions mirrored my own, her features a copy of my own. I knew it was me physically but mentally, she just looked lost.

“Ready?” I looked away from the window, Sierra had returned a fresh coat of red lipstick applied. “It’s Hudson’s favourite colour.” She shrugged. “And one of us needs to get laid tonight.” Her eyes turned dark as she teased me.

“Well, we better get you to Hudson then before it rubs off.” I fished ten dollars out of my pocket, dropping it on the table to pay for our finished coffees. I looked down at myself, suddenly insecure with my appearance. “Do I look alright?” I was suddenly aware that I’d be on a date in a matter of minutes, and even if I didn’t want to go I didn’t want to look horrible. “If I’d know it was a date...”

“You wouldn’t have come.” She countered, eyes running over me as I pulled at my denim skirt before tying a knot in my white t-shirt.

“You look cute. You’ve got this “I’m a badass, you don’t know what’s coming for you Martin’ look down.” She glanced over me once more, nodding her head. “Yeah. I really like it.” A smile pulled at my lips.

“Thanks.” I picked up my purse and motioned to the door. “Shall we?” Sierra held out her arm, giggling as I looped my own through.

“We shall.” As we walked Sierra filled me in on everything she knew about Martin. Hair colour; Black. Eye colour; Blue. Hometown; New Jersey. It seemed weird that neither Sierra or Hudson had ever mentioned Martin before tonight but up until three months ago I’d been adamant about not meeting any new people. So when Sierra saw her chance, I guess she jumped at it.

“Have you ever been here before?” I looked around, as we walked down the street. A sign for ‘The Lucky’ shining brightly ahead of us like a looming thunder cloud.

“Never.” Sierra shook her head. “But, Hudson knows a lot of guys who hang out here, and the bar across the road.” She pointed across the road. “See that place, InkBird.” I squinted my eyes nodding my head. “Next to that book store, ‘The Lair’.” My eyes locked on to the sign. “Behind that, there’s another bar, you have to go through InkBird to get there, so it’s kind of like a hidden bar. Hudson always complains that the guys only decide to go there once’s he’s on his way home.” We stopped in front of The Lucky, facing across the road looking right at InkBird.

“Well, maybe tonight he’ll finally get to see it.” I quipped before spinning on my heel. “C’mon, let’s go find Prince Charming.” I took a deep breath before pushing the door open. As soon as I stepped inside I couldn’t help but feel a bubble of excitement build in my stomach. I stopped taking a moment to look around. The walls were a whitewashed brick all over, neon lights hung randomly throughout. A line of booths ran along the far wall, to the left of them a long bar, off to the corner was a pool table. The crowd seemed to be a mix of college students and younger working professionals. Either way, everyone seemed to be looking for a way to wind down. “Can you seed Hudson anywhere?” I asked looking around for the six-foot tall man who was responsible for all of this.

“No. Maybe we should go sit down and wait for him.” Sierra grabbed onto my hand and pulled me over to the back wall, sliding into one of the booths. “He should be here by now.” She pulled out her phone to text him. I looked over the crowd. Eyes scouting for Hudson. “He said he’s at the bar.” I spun, looking towards the bar.

“There.” Sierra smiled pointing. I followed her finger, finding Hudson quickly.

“Who's he with?” I studied the man who stood across from Hudson, engaged in deep conversation. I turned to face Sierra. “Have you met him before?” I turned back, studying him again. He looked as though he was twenty-eight, standing with both his hands shoved deep in the pockets of his black skinny jeans. I let my eyes run over his body, drinking in his features. Starting with the ink that covered his right arm where little space of bare skin remained untouched by the intricate tattoo’s wrapping around the exposed muscle. My eyes drifted up over his torso and to his face. He has a sharp jawline, standing out prominent, his cheeks tanned, and covered with days worth of stubble. His eyes were big and round, childlike almost, bushy eyebrows following the curve of his brow bone. His nose appeared to have been broken before as it loomed over a pair of smirking lips. His hair was a dark brown and styled into a presentable quiff. I was unable to stop myself from looking back at his eyes, where to my surprise he was already looking at me. Feeling my cheeks redden I looked down to the table trying to calm myself.

“His name’s George MacKay, Hudson’s know him for a while.” Sierra shrugged. Eyes moving away from me, and a smile tugging on her lips. “Hi, baby.” Hudson sat beside her, arm wrapping around her shoulders. He left a sweet kiss on her lips.

“Hey Y/N.” Hudson smiled. “You excited to meet Martin?” Hudson’s kind smile turned into a smirk.

“Ecstatic,” I mumbled eyes turning to slits as I glared him down. “Is he here yet?” I looked around, eyes finding George’s again as he threw his head back and laughed.

“Not yet.” I turned back, eyes meeting Sierra’s. “He’s going to be here soon though. He’s excited to meet you.” Hudson pulled Sierra into him.

“You two are going to get along so well, I just know it.” Sierra smiled at me.

I wish I could say the date went perfectly, and the minute I saw Martin I fell head over heels in love, and before I knew it we ended up in bed together and lived happily ever after, but as the night wore on, and the date dragged on there was one thing missing.

“I thought you said he couldn’t wait to meet me,” I whined drunkenly as I waved my empty glass around. I’d forgotten how easily I got drunk these days and by my second scotch, I was already into tipsy Y/N territory.

“He couldn’t.” Hudson chimed. “It’s not like Martin to stand up a girl.”

“Martin seems like a jerk.” I huffed slamming my glass on the table frowning. “Oh Hudson, I’m not excited to meet her. She looks great. Blah, Blah, BLAH.” I rolled my eyes.

“He didn’t seem like one at the office. I’m really sorry Y/N.” Hudson sighed. “I’ll go get us another drink.” He picked up our empties and walked off towards the bar. My head was fuzzy as I turned to my best friend.

“What’s wrong with me?” I whined.

“Nothings wrong with you. He’s just a shitty guy.”

“Then why was I stood up?” I lent across the table staring at her intently waiting for her to say something, anything that would make sense why this guy, who was so excited to meet me. Would bail, without any notice.

“Maybe because your ‘date’ couldn’t handle how stunningly beautiful you are, and he freaked out at the prospect of being in your company.” A thick English accented voice made my eyes widened in surprise. “But that could just be my opinion.” I turned in my seat, eyes meeting those of George MacKay. Hudson’s heavily tattooed friend.

“I see you’re good at flattery.” I laughed trying to hide the fact I was unnaturally attracted to him.

“It’s not the only thing I’m good at.” He smirked as he sat beside me, extending a glass of scotch towards me. He winked motioning for me to take it. I took it and raised an eyebrow daring him wordlessly to go on. “I’m also really good at rescuing damsels in distress.” I looked over at Hudson and Sierra who were intently watching the exchange sipping on their drinks mindlessly.

“I don’t see any damsels. Maybe your superpower led you to the wrong table.”

“Absolutely not. My good friend Hudson here.” He took a cheeky side glance at Hudson, and I couldn’t help but swoon as his blue eyes turned back to me, the corner of his lip turning up in another smile. “Said there was an insanely beautiful girl who’d been stood up by some dickhead, and she needed rescuing before he and his fiancé disappeared to the toilets for a quickie.” My mouth dropped open. George held his hands up in defence. “His words, not mine.” He chuckled hand rubbing across his stubble covered chin.

I am unnaturally attracted to you.

“Y/F/N Y/L/N.” I held out my hand.

“I know,” He smirked. “I’m George MacKay.” He grasped my hand, holding it gently as we shook hands, he kept looking at me, not breaking the eye contact we were holding. “You can message Martin, tell him Y/N didn’t lose any sleep over him.”

“Yeah, make sure you add in about the tattooed rescuer,” Sierra smirked. “You take care of her George.” She wagged a slim finger at him as Hudson stood.

“Wait, where are you going?” I asked voice rising in concern.

“Bathroom.” Hudson winked at George before grabbing Sierra's hand and dragging her off. “We’ll be back in a jiffy.”

“I think they mean quickie,” George whispered in my ear. His breath tickling my skin. A hot blush rose on my skin in its wake.

“I’m not going to sleep with you.” I turned to face him, mentally sizing up the damage his charm could have on my life. “So this whole seduction, British accent. Dreamy bedroom eyes thing isn’t going to work.”

“You think I have bedroom eyes?” His charm will destroy me.

“I’m serious.”

“So am I.” He turned to look at the bar. His tattooed arm wrapping around the top of the booth seat fingertips brushing over my shoulder. “I was wondering why the guy at the bar was giving me the come on, now I know.” He turned back smiling cheekily. “It was because of my bedroom eyes.” I couldn’t help myself, I burst out laughing. This guy was unbelievable. “Can I tell you a secret?”

“Only if it’s a good one.” George leaned in, his free arm brushing my hair behind my ear, teasingly slow. His scent overtook my senses. He smelt delicious and I had a carnal desire to push him up against the closest wall and see if he tasted as good as he smelt.

“If you think, that I was giving you bedroom eyes before.” He chuckled lowly. “Then you won’t believe what it’s like when I actually give you bedroom eyes.”

“You think you’re so smooth don’t you?” If I were to be honest with him, I would ask him to show me his bedroom eyes, But I wasn’t honest.

“I don’t actually.” He pulled away from me, turning. Our noses touched ever so slightly. “But I’m drunk, and you’re beautiful.” His eyes searched over my face. “And tomorrow morning, I’m going to be sober, but you.” He shook his head. “You. You’re still going to be beautiful.” Am I imagining this?

“Wow.” I couldn’t help but smile. A real one. It felt like the first time I’d smiled properly in years. “You are a smooth, smooth man.” George picked up his glass. Laughing as he sipped from it.

“It wasn’t a line, but I’m glad it got you to smile.” I took a deep breath, exhaling. Clearing my mind and body of George MacKay. When I felt like I could open my eyes again. George was still watching me, bottom lip pulled deliciously between his teeth. God, even when he bites his lip he looked like Adonis.

“How do you know my best friend’s fiancé, George?” I turned, bringing my knee up on the George, putting some space between the two of us.

“I’m his tattoo artist.” He picked up his drink again. “Tattoo’d him about five times now, after the second time we went to the pub…”

“Pub?”

“A bar.” He chuckled and leaned in closer. “Sorry, I’ll try to Americanise myself from now on.”

“Thank you.” A giggle escaped. “So you gave Hudson some tattoo’s, and then you guys went to the pub, and what an epic bromance started?”

“Pretty much, but let me tell you something.” His voice dropped and became even sexier, which I didn’t even know was possible. “It won’t be as epic as our romance would be.”

“Flattering, but I’m not interested.”

“HoneyBird, you looked me in the eyes a little too long, to not be interested in me.” Holy crap, who was this guy. I lent forward.

“Who are you?” George replicated my actions. Meeting me in the middle.

“Whoever you want me to be.”

“You’re sure of yourself.”

“Confident that you’re attracted to me.” George and my heads were close together. He was right, he should be confident that I was attracted to him. I was.

“You’re right. I might be drunk, but you’re still right.” I picked up the remainder of my drink and downed it.

“And in the morning, you’ll be sober but I’ll still be right,” George smirked.

“George is that you?” We pulled away from each other, at the end of our table stood a girl. Her skin was a very pale colour, even paler than my own. Her cheeks dotted with small freckles which had almost been completely covered by makeup. Her lips big and pouted.

“Rebecca.” George groaned. “Didn’t know you still came here.” He turned in his seat, arm wrapping back around my shoulders.

“Whose she?” Her eyes turned on me. Dark, and furious.

“Me? I’m his fiance.” I found myself speaking in a horrible British accent, so bad George was struggling to contain his laughter.

“He didn’t tell me he had a fiance.” Rebecca quipped, as if her words meant to harm me. Instead, I turned to look at George, then back to the Rebecca.

“Really, cause he told me you were his sister.” I turned back to George. “Baby. I didn’t know that was your kink.” I looked out of the corner of my eyes. Rebecca was watching us intently. “Four years together, and I’m only seeing the kinky side of you now.” I grabbed onto George’s hair and pulled him towards me. “What else do you like?”

“Come with me, and I’ll show you just how kinky I can be.” George chuckled, leaning into me his teeth nipping my jawline.

Fuck

“Aren’t you going to break up with him? He slept with me.” Rebecca scoffed, voice raising.

“Don’t worry sweetheart. He’s also slept with me.”

“You’re a pig, George.” Rebecca picked up one of the half-empty glasses and threw it over George, splattering me in the process. “I hope you two are happy together.” She screamed before stomping away. George and I watched her for a minute as she pushed her way through the crowd and out the door. I was still watching the door when George turned to me.

“Baby, Huh?” I shrugged my shoulders as a smile spread across George’s face. A proper smile, teeth exposed, and one that made dimples appear. God, he really was beautiful.

“I think I enjoyed it too much.” He whispered leaning towards me again. His voice was so low I could barely hear it over the music in the bar.

“Don’t get used to it.”

“HoneyBird, It’s entirely too late for that.” I couldn’t help but feel a hot flush rise on my cheeks when George called me HoneyBird. Flirting with George was fun but I was out of practice. “What’s wrong?”

“I was just thinking, should I go borrow Sierra’s ring, or was she the only one in this bar you’ve slept with?” I turned back, once my cheek felt cooler.

“If it means getting to call you mine for even tonight, I can find someone else I’m sure.” George went to stand. I grabbed onto his wrist and pulled him back down with me.

“That’s not necessarily, you don’t need to sleep with random women.”

“You mean I can have you without them?” His blue eyes shone, alive with mischief.

“You are something else.” I shook my head, unable to believe I’d held his interest for this long. “But I’m still not sleeping with you tonight.”

“But tomorrow nights still available.” He questioned, flirting was second nature for this man. “I like you Y/N.” He whispered just loud enough for me to hear.

“You’re drunk.”

“I may be drunk, but tomorrow morning when I’m sober. I’m still going to like you.”

“Is that your vice?”

“And by vice you mean....” He trailed off.

“Your immoral, wicked personal behaviours.” I turned on the bench again. Knee brushing his.

“It’s immoral to be interested in you?”

“Strange, but not immoral.”

“Well then, what if I don’t have any?”

“We all have a vice, sometimes more than one. Whether we know it or not.”

“If I tell you mine, you need to tell me yours.”

“Deal.” I stuck my hand out to shake. George grabbed my hand and brought it up to the table. Using both his to play with my fingers. Dancing his fingertips across my knuckles softly.

“I’m passionate, more often than not to an extreme.” His forefinger ran down my wrist absent mindlessly as he spoke. “About life, tattoos, people. Love.”

“People?” He nodded his head. Lip slipping between his teeth as he watched his fingers trace patterns on my skin.

“If I meet someone I like, I become passionate about them.” He turned my hand and continued to trace patterns on my palm. “Not in a romantic way. I like to surround myself with good people, who give off good energy. Hudson for example. We became mates, and I became really invested in our friendship. He’s a really good guy Mia, and he’s the type of person I want to be surrounded by.”

“That doesn’t sound like a vice.”

“It can be when it makes you vulnerable. The amount of people I’ve had use our friendship for free tattoos.” He shook his head disgust changing his calm features.

“Free tattoo’s?”

“Yeah, they expected me to give them free tattoos because that’s what I do, and we were ‘friends’ apparently.” I grabbed his hand and started tracing back on his palm. Replicating patterns he’d drawn on mine.

“But you would work hard on those designs. It’s not right for anyone to expect them for free.” Across the palm, down around the wrist, tracing the veins that protruded. “And not to mention how much time it’d take to actually tattoo them.” Up towards the black tree on his forearm.

“So what’s yours.” I traced along one of the thicker branches, my right hand ended up holding onto his palm, as my left traced. “It’s only fair.”

“You’re right, it is only fair.” I looked up. Stopping my tracing. Fingers laying still against his skin. “One of my vices is time. I’m worried about how much time we have left on this planet. How long I have left with my family, my friends.”

“Time is a fickle bitch,” George muttered under his breath. “What’s your other ones?”

“I don’t know yet, I’m still working them out.” I looked up through my lashes, meeting his eyes.

“Which would you choose, True love with a guarantee of a broken heart, or to never love at all.”

“True love.” George leaned his head in closer as I resumed my tracing our eye’s not losing contact. “’ Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.’”

“Alfred Lord Tennyson.” George smiled. I nodded my head. Inching in the smallest amount.

“What would you have picked?”

“Love.” His breath fanned across my lips as his head dipped in. “Love is to great of an adventure to miss out on.”

“Sorry we took so long.” Sierra’s voice broke us from our bubble. I looked up mouth dropping open when I took in her appearance. Her hair was wild, and no longer the image of perfection. Lipstick was staining the outside of her lips where she’d failed to cover it up. Overall she looked the definition of a wanton woman. “We stopped at the bar after.” She smirked sitting down two drinks in front of George and I.

“Here baby.” Hudson handed Sierra her own drink as she sat beside him. “What did you two talk about while we were…”

“Screwing?” George optioned. A chuckle on his lips as he looked over the pair. He shuffled again, arm stretching out behind me. Fingertips brushing my shoulder. “Did you guys want to go to the TK bar?” Why didn’t he tell them about our conversations?

“The ‘hidden’ one?” Sierra raised a brow. George nodded his head.

“Hell yes.” Hudson stood up. “C’mon drink those drinks. We have a new bar to explore.”

“He’s been wanting to see it ever since you told him about it.” Sierra rolled her eyes at her fiance.

“Then we should go.” I smiled at Hudson. “We don’t want to keep him waiting longer.” I grabbed my cup and tipped my head back, the scotch burning as it slid down into my stomach. I spluttered as I slammed the glass on the tabletop. George’s hand rubbed soothing circles on my lower back as I tried to regulate my breathing. Little did he know, his hand touching me, didn’t help.

“Easy tiger.” George laughed before mirroring my actions without the spluttering and gasping for air. “Ready?” Sierra and Hudson nodded standing, the began to walk towards the front door. I waited for George to move out of the booth. He didn’t. “I hope you don’t mind that I didn’t tell Sierra what we were talking about. That conversation, I want it to just be ours.” His head dropped, and if it wasn’t for the alcohol messing with my head, I could have sworn I saw a tinge of red on his cheeks.

“Ok.” I cleared my throat. “I mean, that’s fine.”

“Let’s go.” George stood up and held his hand out, waiting for me to take it. When I did he pulled me up. Leading us to the door, I put my hand on his lower back, holding onto his t-shirt so I could move easier through the crowd. “Y/N, I want you to know something.” He called over his shoulder as we moved through the crowd and out the door.

“What is it?”

“Just because I’m holding your hand doesn’t mean I’m going to sleep with you tonight.” I felt his body shake as he laughed. We came to a stop out the front of the doors. He turned to me. Smirking. Fine, if he wants to play, then it’s about time I play.

“But tomorrow’s still an option?” I ran a hand up and down his chest, fingers curling underneath, my knuckles brushed the skin underneath.

“Careful HoneyBird or I’ll have to take you up on that offer.”

“Guys, are you coming.” We turned, Hudson stood across the road, right outside InkBird. I grabbed Georges wrist and pulled him along with me.

“Do you think the person who owns this place gets annoyed about the hidden bar?” I looked up at the sign and we approached it.

“I don’t think they’d care, probably get a slice of the profit.”

“Well, George where do we go?” Sierra question, leaning her back against Hudson’s chest. “We should hurry before Hudson pee’s himself with excitement.”

“This way.” George walked up to InkBird, standing before a keypad. He punched in some numbers, the door swinging open. We all rushed inside. “Be careful, we can’t mess anything up in here.” He walked again, Sierra, Hudson and I followed behind closely. “Just down here.” We all stepped down the dimly lit stairwell. “This is it.” He pushed open a heavy door. “Welcome to the Koutetsu.” It takes my eyes a few minutes to adjust to the darkness, at first I can’t see anything, but as my eyes flicker in and out of focus a magnificent bar unfolds in front of me.

“It’s dark,” Sierra commented as we all shuffled in. “But it's giving me this moody, sexy vibe.” I looked around at the exposed brickwork, dark timber furniture, stripped back walls, along with antique lamps and steel mesh hanging from the ceiling. “Do you think they took these from one of the many construction sites around the city?” She asked pointing to the steel mesh.

“Maybe, Koutetsu does mean steel.” I couldn’t help but imagine how the lighting, of this bar, was perfect for a first date. Filled with many spots where someone could sneak away for a romantic moment. I couldn’t help but wish I was sneaking away for a romantic moment with a certain blue-eyed boy.

The rest of the night passed in a blur of alcohol-fuelled caresses under the table and sweet whispers of nothings when Sierra and Hudson were too wrapped up in their own world.

When it drew to a close he didn’t ask for my number, he didn’t try to kiss me. He whispered a sweet farewell into my ear and made sure I was safely in my cab on my way home before he left the sidewalk.

Now it was the next day and I was annoyed at him. I know I said I didn’t want him to kiss me, but feelings change and by the end of the night there was nothing more than I wanted.

“You okay Y/N? That’s the third latte you’ve turned into a cappuccino in the last hour.” I turned off the steam wand. Putting the jug of over frothed milk on the countertop. I sighed and turned to face Jackson. The manager of the small cafe where I worked.

“Just trying to educate people that the cappuccino is far better than a latte.” I ran my hands through my hair. “I’m sorry Jackson.”

“Don’t sweat it Y/N, we all have off days.” He picked up the jug of milk and finished one of the coffees. “Take this. Grab a muffin and take a break.” He handed me the coffee and shoo’d me with his free hand.

“Thanks Jackson.” I grabbed one of the muffins from the container. “See you in fifteen.”

“Take as long as you need, get your head together. No more cappuccino’s” I walked out of the service area and through the front door. Sitting at one of the small two-seater tables muffin and coffee in front of me. Stupidly I checked my phone, full of false hope that I’d gotten a message from an unknown number, and that number would be George’s.

There was no message.

“There she is.” I heard a loud voice in the distance boom over the hustle and bustle of New York. I didn’t pay much attention to it as I kept eating my muffin. These type of things happen a lot in the city.

“HoneyBird.” Great, now I was starting to imagine things. This man had gotten under my skin. “HoneyBird.” The metal chair across from me screeched against the concrete. I looked up only to be met with a bunch of flowers in my face.

“What?” The confusion was clear in my voice. Anyone could have heard it.

“Sorry, I’m late.” The flowers lowered to reveal the dashingly handsome face of George MacKay.

“How did you find me?” I took the flowers from him. Looking over the bouquet.

“Hudson.” He smirked. “Told me where to find you. He also gave me your number.”

“Why didn’t you ask for it last night?” George shrugged his shoulders.

“You told me that I didn’t have a chance until today.” He held his arms out. “So here I am.”

“These are beautiful.” I lent down and smelt the bouquet.

“Protea, rose, lisianthus, anthurium, snowberry and gum.” He rattled off as he pointed at the different flowers. When he looked up he shrugged slightly. A small smile breathtaking smile. “Mums a florist.”

“Back in England?” He nodded his head. “When did you move here?”

“Five years ago, I took over the shop from my uncle.”

“Shop?”

“InkBird. My uncle owns it, now I do, I guess.”

“You own InkBird?” He nodded his head. “That’s amazing George.”

“Yeah, I think so.” He looked so proud as he spoke about his work. “So I took that over from my uncle, renamed it. Changed the interior and now business is better than ever.”

“Do you want to go back?” I lent on my hand, elbow resting on the table. “To England that is?”

“Sometimes, but it’s not all it’s cracked up to be. I do miss mum though.” He tapped his hand on the table, lip slipping between his teeth.

“What about your dad?”

“He died when I was eighteen.” Instinctively I reached across to grab his hand.

“I’m sorry George. I shouldn’t have said anything.” I rubbed my thumb across the skin.

“It’s alright. It’s been ten years.” So he’s twenty-eight. “You never stop to miss them though.”

“Still, he was your dad.” He flipped our arms over so his covered forearm was on display.

“See this.” He pointed with his free arm to a beautiful line of scripture.

“You’ll never walk alone.”

“My dad's favourite football team, Liverpool, that’s their motto. Got it for him.” I ran my hand along his skin.

“It’s beautiful,” I whispered.

“So are you.” I looked up. “But I knew you would be.”

“You were drunk, and you called me beautiful.”

“And now it’s the morning and I’m sober, but you’re still beautiful.”

“Y/N.” My name being called broke me out of my George induced daze. “Y/N, we need you,” Jackson called sticking his head out the door.

“I’ll be right in,” I called standing, grabbing onto my flowers, muffin and near-empty coffee cup. “Thank you for the flowers, George.” Building up a moment of pure courage I smiled leaning down, kissing his cheek.

“I’ll message you.” He smiled, turning in his seat as I went to walk away.

“I look forward to it.” I walked back into the cafe, I pushed open the door with my hip. A line of customers spanned from the front door to the service area. Jackson stood at the register, while a line of coffee orders sat. Behind him our other waitress Harriet stood fiddling with a croissant.

“New boyfriend?” Jackson motioned to George who was walking past the front window.

“Who knows.” I smiled walking towards the coffee machine. I deposited the flowers underneath the counter on the way. Picking up the first slip I got to work. I felt myself slip back into the rhythm I found myself in every day I worked. It was pretty fun being a barista and working here with Jackson. Harriet on the other hand wasn’t the highlight of my day.

“I think we’re going to need to get rid of Harriet,” Jackson whispered as we scrubbed down the cafe. “She’s just not catching on.”

“That mean’s we have to find someone else.” He nodded his head. “That’ll be the hard part.”

“You head home, I’ll finish this.” He grabbed the cloth from my hand. “You still right to open tomorrow?”

“Yeah, see you around eight?” I turned on my heel and began my walk home. Halfway through my walk, I realised I was walking towards InkBird, towards George. I peered through the windows. I couldn’t see anybody.

Going in wouldn’t hurt...

I pushed the heavy door open and was hit with the smell of bleach and sterilisation.

“We’re closed.” The all to familiar voice called from somewhere within the shop. “Come back tomorrow, or call up and make an appointment.” He called again. A plan formulated in my head when I noticed the brass bell sitting on a whitewashed counter. I reached out and tapped it the loud ping echoing around the parlour. “Didn’t you hear me?” I heard heavy boots hit the wooden floor. “I said we’re not open. So fuck off…”

“That’s not a nice way to treat your customers,” I smirked as George rushed to a halt. It took me a moment for me to realise that he was shirtless. Only a pair of jeans hanging around his waist. His hands rested on his hips, pushing his jeans down even more. I couldn’t help but let my eyes wander his chest again, the muscles looked almost too tempting.

“Took you long enough.” He smirked, arms crossing over his chest leaning casually against the doorframe. “What took you so long?”

“You knew I’d come?’’ He shrugged his shoulders.

“I hoped you would.” What was this man doing to me. Coming down on me like a storm in a small country town. He pushed away from the wall and walked over to me, each step more determined than the last. “Now.” He reached me. I took a step back, he took one closer until my back was flush with the door. “Tell me” One arm went above my head resting, the other reaching around by my waist locking the door. It made a sharp clicking noise. “Why did you come Honey Bird?” He lent down so his head was level with mine.

“I haven’t made any bad decisions lately.” My voice came out breathless, much like I felt.

“I can be a bad decision.” He leant in closer, lips brushing my cheek. The lightest touch from this man was enough to send shivers through my whole body. “If you want me to stop.” He whispered, lips brushing underneath my ear this time. “Tell me now.” I couldn’t speak, and even if I could, I wouldn’t stop him. “Or now.” He kissed my jawline gently. “Tell me HoneyBi -.” He didn’t have time to finish. I’d reached my hand around his neck, pulling him to me, the rest of his words, his nickname for me. My nickname. Lost against my mouth as he kisses me gently. This wasn’t a time for gentle, he was shirtless and I wanted more. I was sure if he’d had a shirt on my hands would be knotted in his shirt, but he was shirtless and the only thing I could pull on to make it known I wanted more was his hair. So that’s what I did. Hands knotting in his hair, pulling it. He groaned, low in his throat and then he was kissing me harder, with a vehement urgent need that it’d never felt before. He’s kissing me once, twice, three times. He’s everywhere. “Up.” He groans lips leaving mine for a fraction of a second. “Honey Bird.” He speaks again. I understand what he wants, and I jump. He catches me with ease. My back hits the door. Doorknob digging into my back, it’ll leave a bruise but I can’t find a care for it at the moment.

Between us, a weightless, seamless desire flowed. Our bodies in synch with one and other. The kisses started out soft and slow building as George held me against the door, his hands pulling up my shirt, over my head leaving me as dressed as he was. Our bodies moved together, my back scratching against the heavy wooden door, floorboards squeaking underneath George’s feet. When I’d come here this afternoon this is not what I pictured we’d be doing, but deep in my heart, I knew there were no other possibilities of how we’d spend our time together. I wanted to kiss him forever, for as long as I could. I blocked out all the thoughts about what this was, what it might mean and what future messes I’d created for myself.

“Honey Bird.” He whispered as my lips went to his neck. “Unless you want half of Brooklyn to see you being fucked…” He kissed the top of my right breast, leaving goosebumps in his wake. Fuck everything he does is hot, all hands and lips. The scent. The taste. The feel of him between my legs, it was all like tiny fireworks going off all over me. Bits of me I didn’t think possible were igniting. “And thoroughly fucked at that, I suggest we take this to my office.” I leaned up, biting his earlobe.

“Lead the way.” George let me down, pulling me behind him, leading me to the doorway he’d walked out from minutes ago. I didn’t get a chance to look around before George pushed me roughly against the wall. He gathered my wrists in one of his hands holding them above my head while his other world it’s way to the waistband of my pants. I couldn’t touch him but I could see exactly what I wanted straining at his pants, pressing against his jeans.

“You want to touch huh?” I nodded my head. Lips pushing out in a pout as I looked at him. “What did you want?” His voice was soft and it sent a shiver down my spine.

“You.” George’s lips brushed over my cheek and up beside my ear.

“You have me,” He kissed just below my ear, biting and pulling on the lobe. “Any way you want me,” He bit the soft skin of my neck, I couldn’t help the gasp that escaped. He made me feel so good.

“Now?” My voice was breathy. I could barely recognise it. He was doing this all to me. George laughed softly, breath blowing over the freshly marked skin of my neck.

“What do you want my love?”

“Your mouth.” I whispered, cheeks flushing softly. Warmth flooding them. George’s first response was a groan, his hips pushing into me.

“I was hoping you’d say that.” He picked me up and carried me over to a desk… His desk. He pushed things of the desk before sitting me atop. Legs hanging over the side. Skirt pushed up. “Perfect height.” He muttered to himself, pulling the seat towards us. He reached under my skirt, fingers hooking onto my panties. “You sure?” I bit my lip and nodded. I need this. I raised my hips and let him peel them off, the silk leaving small bumps in it’s wake as the cold air hit my skin. George didn’t stop looking at me as my panties fell to the floor forgotten. He didn’t break eye contact as his lips found my knees, the soft skin of my thighs. I watched as he kissed along the skin of my thighs, getting closer and closer to where I wanted him to be. His hands pulled at my hips softly.

“Come closer,” George demanded softly. I shifted my hips forward, the edge of the desk underneath me. He laughed under his breath.

“What is it?”

“Already wet for me,” He grinned at me, and traced a finger lightly over me just missing where I needed him most.

“I’ve been like this since this afternoon,” I whispered back, head falling back. Needing a moment without his eyes looking into mine. He touched my clit softly. I flinched, before pushing forward. Needing his hand. It wasn’t there. “Don’t tease,” I whined, pressing my hips forward, trying to find him. George nipped at my inner thigh. I looked back down at him. God, it was a sight.

“Are you always so needy,” He raised an eyebrow at me even as a smile tugged at his lips. He stood, reaching for my hand. Bringing it to his lips.

“Only for you,” I murmured as George kissed my fingertips.

“Only for me?”I hummed in agreement, before leaning back again wishing he’d touch me. When I didn’t feel anything for a moment I moved my head back. Looking down at George, biting my lip as he pressed his cheek to my inner thigh. So close. “You look good from every angle, but I think this is my favourite,” George groaned and tilted his head to look back at you. His blue eyes sparkled as his lips tugged up in a lopsided grin. “Time for dessert.” He swiped his tongue into me so quickly that my moan was nearly silent as he knocked the breath out of me. Fuck he was good with his tongue. My hips rocked against him, his tongue licking into my deeply. His nose brushed over my clit.

“Fuck.” George hummed in response, the vibrations doing magical things to my body. “Jesus.”

“Name’s George actually.” He chuckled against me. “You taste good.” He buried his face in me, groaning at the taste as his tongue thrust in and out at a rapid rate. My breath was caught in my chest as the pleasure… God, it was intoxicating me.

“George… fuck, I’m- Jesus - I’m not going to last if you keep-” I was abruptly cut off by my own orgasm. George’s name rolled off my tongue multiple times as I came down, He didn’t stop though. His tongue kept moving. But even when he pulled away it was too soon, I missed the feeling of him.

“Barely got a taste of you.” My body clenched hotly at his words. His grin only grew as he felt my reaction. I sat up properly. Looking at him. Lips shinning with me. I leant forward and kissed him hotly. Like I’d never kissed someone before. He’d done this to me. Turned me into a sex-crazed woman in under twenty-four hours.

“My turn.” I pushed him back into his chair and slid off the desk. Standing naked in front of him.

“What do you have in mind?” My hands move down to his jeans, leaning forward moaning into his ear.

“There are a few things I could do, George.” I pulled open the belt buckle.

“Like what?” His voice cracking as he grinds up. I couldn’t help myself, as I slowly unbutton his jeans stopping every now and then to bite at his neck. I was enjoying this far too much.

“Well, I could use my hand…” I grabbed the zipper, pulling it down. I looked into George’s eyes, smirking. “Or I can make you cum in your jeans.” He grabbed onto my face, pulling me into him. I nearly fell onto him. His finger running over my bottom lip. Slipping into my mouth.

“How about you use that perfect mouth of yours.” I bit the tip of his finger. “Please.” His voice dripping with want, making my mouth water.

No man had ever spoken to me in such a manner, fuck. It was like a whole revelation.

“Only because you asked so nicely.” With that, I lent down and pulled his jeans down his legs. I dropped to my knees and look at his exposed cock, hard, for me. George looked down at me and I swear, the site nearly made me cry. He looked so fucking perfect.

Without any more teasing, I reached out and gripped the base. Leaning in, I give the head a lick. His hand gripped my hair as my lips wrapped around him. A throaty moan escapes and he rolls eyes back. I gripped his hips as I push my way down, swallowing around him to pull out moans from his mouth. His grip on my hair tightens. A groan escapes as I feel him hit the back of my throat and the vibrations almost send him over the edge right there. He pulls my hair tighter, body freezing as he tries to calm down. When his grip loosens slightly I take it as my cue to move my head up and down, encouraging.

“Fuck that’s it.” He groans. Thrusting into my hips. “Your mouth is fucking perfect.”

I moan around the heavy cock in my mouth. My eyes flicker up and see him staring down at me with his eyes drowning in lust. His cheeks are red with want as his breath quickens.

I grip the base and groan one more time, his hand tightens as his voice breaks. “Fuck, Y/N” He hits the back of my throat. “Close.” I move faster, dragging him closer to the edge. His moans get louder. His voice gets deeper. His grip on my hair, turning me on even more. He tries to pull away as he comes but I don’t let him go. I just keep my eyes on his face as I swallow every drop. When he’s completely done I pull away and grin up at him. “Good?” He pulls me up and kisses me. It’s hot and sweaty. It’s a fucking perfect kiss.

“That was good for an opening act.”

“If that was only the opening act, I can’t wait for the main show.” George grabbed me and pulled me up, walking me backward until the back of my thighs hit the edge of the desk once more, He lifted me up, my ass resting on the rough wood. I wrapped my arms around his torso, nails scratching his back.

“Sure you want to do this, Sweetheart?” Concern laced his question. I smiled and grabbed onto his face, pulling him towards me nodding my head. He stopped millimetres from my lips. “Need to hear you say it.” His lips brushed mine as he spoke. God, he was so sexy.

“I want this, I want you…” Muttering pushing my lips so they touched his softly, George let out a low moan as he presses himself harder against my lips.

“You on the floor, God what a sight.” He mutters, hand wrapping in my hair pulling it softly. “Swear, I’ve never seen a prettier one.”

“George…” If he didn’t touch me, and where I needed him soon. I was sure I was going to cry. I started kissing his neck, lips running staying on his adam’s apple.

“I need to get… shit, I need to get a condom.” He went to pull away, hands moving from my hair, touch leaving me.

“You don’t. I’m covered.” I pulled him back hoping he got my drift. His eyes widened in surprise but quickly darkened once more. “As long as you’re clean of course…”

“I am yeah.” He pulled away to look at me again. “I just…” He shook his head. “HoneyBird where have you been?”

“Waiting for you to fuck me,” I smirked cheekily. George stepped back, hands dropping onto his hips. He stood proud and naked, smirking at me.

“For that comment, I think you need to ask nicely.” I looked up and down his body, quickly working over if I could live without feeling George inside me. “Better hurry, HoneyBird.” He smirked again.

“Please fuck me.” I whimpered needing the skin on skin contact he provided me, and that was all it took. He took one step forward and pulled my leg up to my hip. He worked himself so he was ready, waiting for me. “George…” He did one of his heartbreaking smiles as he pushed himself inside. Eyes not leaving mine. My mouth fell open when he was completely inside me, he stilled offering me a minute to relax. I concentrated on him, being inside me. The pleasure this man I’d known for under twenty-four hours was giving me was driving me insane.

“If you keep making those noises, and pulling my hair Honeybird…” He groaned as I shifted my hip’s a little. “I won’t be able to stop myself.” I nodded, biting into my bottom lip as he began slowly thrusting in and out. I tried to move with him, rocking against his hips and keeping my lips pressed to his. My breathing was starting to come out in huffs. Moans escaping between our kisses. He pressed his forehead to mine and closed his eyes as he picked up his pace.

“George.” A voice called from beyond the door. “Are you here. I’ve got dinner.”

“Shit.” George stilled, Hip’s stopping their movements. “I’ll be out in a minute Clara, meet me upstairs.”

“What are you doing?” The voice, Clara called louder, closer this time.

“Just finishing a consultation with a client.” He called back. His hips starting once again. Was he serious?

“Kay.” I tried to push George out as footsteps trailed away from the door.

“What are you doing?” He asked grabbing my hips. He's not stopping.

“You’ve got to get back to your Girlfriend.” I knew it was too good to be true, he was too good to be true.

“She’s my roommate, not a girlfriend.”

“You’re single.”

“As can be.” He whispered kissing my lips. “Cheating really isn’t up my alleyway.” He began to thrust faster again. “Now, we really do have to hurry.”

“Wait,” I said, putting my hand on his chest and pushing him away.

“What are you doing?”

“We have to hurry remember,” I smirked sliding of the desk, turning so my elbows were on it.

“Fucking hell, HoneyBird.” A guttural groan escaped him.

“Oh my God,” I groaned as he pressed back inside, perfectly angled. I buried my face in my arms wishing nothing more than to be free to scream about how good he was making me feel, especially when he picked up his pace.

“Fuck,” he said again, inhaling sharply as he clutched my hips, short nails digging into my skin. The desk began to move beneath us but there was no stopping now. I heard George groan as his hips jerked violently against me, slapping against my skin. I turned back, locking eyes with him. He was concentrating, hard. Lip pulled between his teeth. “Next time…. Fuck. Next time I’m taking you slow…” He wanted there to be a next time…

“… m’ close.” I whimpered as I reached my peak. George followed closely behind me, body seizing as he reached his own orgasm. My body instantly fell into a state of utter relaxation. George’s body pressed atop of mine. “God that was good,” I whispered not sure I would be able to talk properly.

“God, you are fantastic.” He pulled up, slipping from me. I felt discomfort for a second as he left me. I couldn’t stand just yet. So instead I let my head drop onto George’s desk. “If you stay like that HoneyBird, I’m going to have to fuck you again.”

“As tempting as that sounds, you have to get up to your dinner,” I whispered, turning around. I sat on the desk. Completely naked and spent. George walked up to me, wrapping an arm around my waist. Kissing me.

“Come up and have dinner with Clara and me?”

“I don’t want to intrude George.”

“Nonsense, there’s plenty.” George picked me up, helping me redress myself. “We’re having Chinese and watching Netflix all night.”

“Okay.” He looked at me perplexed for a moment. “What is it?”

“Clara is into pussy as much as I am,”

“George.” I hit his chest.

“You can’t fuck my roommate okay, only me.”

“I'm not really into vagina’s myself, so don’t worry.”

“If you’re a good girl, you might get some dessert later on.” He winked as he slipped his jeans back on. “Who am I kidding, after that performance, you can literally walk all over me and I’d still beg you to let me fuck you again.”

“You don’t have to beg anytime soon George,” I smirked wrapping my arms around his waist. “But I am hungry.”

“Upstairs we go.” He smacked my bum as he ushered me out of the room. "You go first." He smiled when we reached the stairs. "This way I get to watch you from behind again.”

"Keep it in your pants, George," I whispered. "Or at least for later."

"Fuck, HoneyBird you are going to be the death of me." He groaned under his breath.

HoneyBird Pt.2

_______________________________________________________________________

If you have any requests I’m happy to try and fulfil them.

#george mackay #george mackay x reader #GeorgeMackay #George MacKay fanfic #George MacKay Imagine #George MacKay Smut

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bisexualkramer · 4 years

Text

Hi! I participated in @pilesofnonsense‘s 2020 Rusty Quill Big Bang this year, and I’m so excited to share my fic with all of you!

I’d like to thank @aibari for betaing this monstrosity and @cthulu-time for making a REALLY COOL ART PIECE FOR THE FIC LIKE HOLY SHIT IT’S AWESOME!! It was such a pleasure to work with both of them!

Hope y’all enjoy it!

The End of All Things - A Magnus Archives Lord of the Rings AU

Part One: Fellowship

Part Two: Towers

Part Three: King

Summer had come to the Shire at last. The green grass was soft underfoot, as gentle as the breeze that danced through the air, bringing with it the scent of wildflowers and tilled earth. The skies were blue and filled with clouds that drifted lazily about. Children wove daisy crowns and danced through the streets in preparation for the midsummer holiday. The old dozed; the young worked; everything was peaceful and good.

Not that Jonathan Sims would have known. His summer habits were no different than his winter ones. He awoke before the sun rose—quite the feat, in those long days of summer—and trudged down the lane to the Shire’s old archives, where he dutifully toiled until after the sun had set. The only variation in his routine was the thickness of his jacket and the presence or lack of an old woolen hat, a gift from his gardener that had kept him from catching his death of cold for at least the past three winters. Jon, bless him, had never thanked the man for it, but he was still willing to wear it, and that was quite enough for Martin Blackwood.

On the eve of the midsummer feast, Jonathan was down in the archive basement again, digging through a waterlogged box of paper and finding the documents that needed to be replaced. The head archivist, Gertrude Robinson, sat beside him, dutifully copying down an old deed that had been damaged in a spring flood. They worked in a quiet tandem, satisfied with the comfortable silence that came from years of friendship.

Jon had been very young when his parents had died in a boating accident. His grandmother hadn’t been keen on raising another child, but there had been no one else to take him. He’d grown up a lonely child in the country, kept company only by books, until his grandmother had died, leaving him her house. He’d sold it immediately and moved to the Shire, and his job application to the town archive had been accepted within a week. He’d been working there ever since, though he’d only become one of Gertrude’s close assistants in the last couple of years. Still, the two got on like a house on fire, and Jon liked to think that Gertrude would ask him to take over when she eventually retired.

A knock at the door brought Jon out of his thoughts. A young man stepped in, his blonde hair falling down around his cheeks in ringlet curls that made even Jon jealous. He handed a sheaf of paper over to Gertrude with a smile.

“Thank you, Michael,” she said. Michael Shelley had only been working in the archives for a few months. He had a bad habit of leaving his red cardigan in the archives. Jon was beginning to suspect he was doing it on purpose, if only because of—

“Hey, guys?” asked a voice from the back. “I’ve found another one with water damage. Where are we putting it?”

“Bring it here,” said Jon resignedly.

Gerry Delano was a short, broad-shouldered hobbit with badly-dyed black hair that hung in greasy strings around his face. He had a permanent scowl that occasionally lifted into a smirk. Every time he spoke to Michael, Michael would erupt into nervous, grating laughter, which did little to improve Jon’s mood but seemed to make Gerry much cheerier.

Jon hated working with them.

Gerry dropped the box in front of them and exaggeratedly wiped the sweat off his brow. He met Michael’s eye and smirked. Michael giggled. Jon tried very hard not to roll his eyes.

“Right,” said Gerry. “Think I’m off for today. Anyone fancy the Green Dragon for a half-pint?”

“Oh, ah, that sounds fun,” said Michael. “Uh, would either of you care to join us?”

Jon scowled, but Gertrude shoved at his arm. “Go have fun,” she said. “I’m expecting a visitor soon. I don’t need you moping down here next to me.”

“But the deeds—” Jon began, only to be hauled to his feet by Gerry in a feat of strength that stole the words from his throat.

“None of that,” said Gerry. “C’mon. Besides, I think your boy’s usually there on Fridays.”

“My what?” Jon scoffed, but he was already being firmly escorted out the door.

“Lord,” said Gertrude. “Youth is wasted on the wrong people.”

...

The Green Dragon was always lively around the end of the week, but it was even more so before holidays. Gerry crept to the bar for drinks and brought them back to the table, cursing as he set them down.

“Nearly lost one,” he said, passing them around. “Anyway, cheers to another year in the archives.”

“Cheers,” said the rest of them absently.

Jon peered around the room as Gerry and Michael began to flirt rather obnoxiously. He felt his stomach drop as he accidentally met eyes with Martin from across the room. Martin’s expression brightened, and he began to head toward the table. Jon tried not to scowl.

The truth of the matter was, Jon had spent a very, very long time hating Martin. Martin had apparently been the gardener at Bag End since before the previous inhabitant had left (very mysteriously, and no one in town would say anything about it—there were rumors that he had been close with Gertrude, but she refused to say anything about it). Jon kept him on because his rates were good and it felt like the right thing to do, and not because he had often heard Martin chatting quietly with the bees while he worked, oblivious to Jon’s watchful eye on the other side of the kitchen window. As Martin approached, Jon quickly realized that the only remaining seat was the one next to him. He tried to ignore it when Martin’s leg brushed very lightly against his own, but couldn’t quite manage to get it out of his head.

“All right, Martin?” Gerry asked, giving him a smile.

Martin blushed a bit at the attention, which made Jon want to commit murder, or possibly arson. “I’m all right,” he said. “And you?”

The two of them struck up a friendly conversation, which they roped Michael into fairly quickly. Jon buried his face in his drink for a while before finally allowing Michael to draw him in with a well-aimed question about the old books he’d found in his home when he moved, which led to several hours of debate over the whereabouts of the mysterious owner, and then a conversation about Michael’s sister, who had sold the property, and then the state of the small library in Hobbiton, and soon Jon found himself ranting about the properties of various waxes for almost a quarter of an hour.

“Sorry,” he said sheepishly when he realized no one had stopped him.

“No,” said Martin, his face flush with alcohol. “No, it was interesting. It was really interesting.”

“Christ,” said Gerry. “Right. I think I’m done for tonight.” He glanced at Michael. “Care to walk me home?”

Michael stuttered a response and pulled on his sweater, leaving Jon and Martin sitting beside each other.

“Well,” said Jon, just as Martin said “Anyway…”

“Oh,” said Jon.

“Sorry,” said Martin. “I mean, uh, go ahead.”

“No, no, it’s all right,” Jon stuttered. “You first.”

“Right,” said Martin. “Uh, I was just going to say it was getting late. Maybe we should go.”

Jon stared at him blankly for a moment before the words made it past his ears and into his head. “Oh, yes,” said Jon. “Of course. Yes.”

“Unless you don’t want to…?”

“No, it’s really fine. Absolutely fine.”

“Are you sure?”

Jon tried not to let too much annoyance creep into his voice as he said “Yes, Martin. I’m quite sure.” From the look on Martin’s face, he was fairly certain he had failed.

“Right,” said Martin. “Um… I’ll see you tomorrow, then?”

“Yes,” said Jon. “Tomorrow.”

“Okay. Night, then.”

Jon gave him a thin smile. “Good night, Martin.”

The walk home was colder than Jon had expected. He wrapped his arms around himself, suddenly wishing he had brought a jacket to the archives that morning. The night sky was clear and star-filled, broken only by the slightest sliver of the moon. As he walked, a small group of fireflies flitted through the bushes by the side of the lane.

He passed by the archives on the way home. The lamps inside were still lit, and Jon could hear hushed voices from within. Never one to miss a chance to eavesdrop, he slowed his step and quieted his breathing, listening with all his might.

“… power grows ever stronger,” said Gertrude. “I’ve felt its draw for the last thirty years. I think soon I shall have to leave it behind.”

“I just hope we’re wrong,” said a familiar voice that Jon hadn’t heard in years. A silhouette appeared in the window, wearing a pointed wizard’s hat. Forgetting himself, Jon flung open the door with a smile.

“Sasha!”

She whirled toward him, her dark hair whipping out as she did. “Jon!”

Gertrude looked rather grumpy to have been interrupted, but Sasha’s eyes were full of delight. She wrapped Jon in a tight embrace, laughing all the while.

“It’s good to see you again, old friend,” she said. “I was going to stop by in the morning. I wasn’t sure if you were asleep.”

“Gerry and Michael dragged me out,” said Jon. Sasha’s face lit up at the mention of Michael’s name.

“I’m glad they’re getting you out of this dusty basement,” she said. “Don’t want you withering away down here, eh?” Her glasses and her many rings glinted mischievously in the lamplight.

Gertrude glanced at him over her reading spectacles. “I’m sorry to interrupt the reunion,” she said, “but I really do think we need to continue this discussion, Sasha.”

“All right, all right,” said Sasha. “Listen, Jon, I’ll talk to you at the festival tomorrow, yeah?”

“Very well,” said Jon. “I’m very glad to see you again.”

“I’m glad, too,” she said. “Take care of yourself, Jon.”

Jon turned to leave, then glanced back at Sasha. As she glanced at Gertrude, her smile vanished, and Jon’s heart filled unexpectedly with fear.

...

The midsummer festival was a full day and night of merrymaking, complete with the finest ales and pipeweeds that could be found in the Shire. People baked for days to prepare enough pies and pastries for the whole community. Everything was shared at the festival, from food to old stories. Even Jon, for all his curmudgeonly ways, could admit that it was a rather wonderful day.

A flowery banner had been erected across the entrance to old Eric Delano’s field, where they’d held the festival in memory of his late wife for the past ten years. (Gerry tended to complain about it, if you could get him drunk enough to recount the tales of his childhood with her—apparently, she’d been rather cruel, and he didn’t feel she deserved such a nice party.) Jon arrived in the early afternoon, far later than most of the Shire, as large crowds tended to make him nervous. It wasn’t long before he was accosted by Martin, who was camped in a corner, sipping at his ale.

“Oh, Jon!” he said, nearly knocking it over. “Hi! Nice to see you here.”

“Hello, Martin,” said Jon. He cast about awkwardly for something to say, landing on, “Uh, are you having fun?”

“Oh, yeah,” said Martin. “I was just helping set up this morning, and then I’ve been sort of running around with everything. D’you need anything?”

“No, thank you, Martin,” said Jon. “I was just, ah, going to see Sasha. Have you seen her or Gertrude, by any chance?”

“Uh, no,” said Martin. “D’you think they’re just running late?”

“I don’t know. I was hoping you would have seen them. I’ll ask around.”

“Okay,” said Martin. “Um, you’re here to stay, right?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, good! Because, you know, I was thinking we could get a drink—uh, with Michael and Gerry, I mean, and maybe Sasha, not just the two of us, haha, if that’s okay?”

“Yes, Martin,” Jon said distractedly, still searching the crowd for Gertrude and Sasha. “I’ll be seeing you.” He turned and began to shove through the crowd of hobbits once more.

He didn’t make it far. There was a large booth on the northern border of the property, near where he had come in, that sold beautiful pastries topped with intricate spiral designs. There were two people manning that booth. One was Michael, who was chatting with old Eric Delano by the fence. The other was his sister, Helen, who was handing out sweets to anyone who walked by with a smile and a nod.

Michael and Helen didn’t look very similar at all. In fact, they weren’t siblings by blood; their parents had married when the two were nearly twenty, and they’d instantly started to bicker like any other siblings. Contrary to Michael’s fair skin and hair, Helen’s skin was dark, and her hair was a deep black. The only similarity between the two was their hair. Both had hair that curled in tight coils around their heads. Michael kept his back in a ponytail with a fair bit of effort and oil; Helen let hers grow out around her head, leaving her with a spiral halo that could be quite disorienting if you looked at it for too long.

“Jon!” she shouted, waving him over. “Jon, over here!”

Jon rolled his eyes but made his way over to the stall. He and Helen had a somewhat tumultuous relationship; she enjoyed teasing him (though Jon likely would have said “torturing him), and he tolerated her jabs with the best humor he could muster on any given day. Often, this meant that he stormed away fuming, followed by her very distinctive cackle of victory.

It was as good a friendship as any, he supposed.

“Hi, Jon,” said Helen cheerfully when Jon arrived at her stall. “Here, try a hot cross bun.” She shoved the pastry at him forcefully and laughed when he took it and instantly swore at just how hot it was.

“Hello, Helen,” said Jon. “Have you seen Sasha?”

Helen pouted. “Don’t want to stay and talk to me, Jon? How very rude!”

Jon rolled his eyes. “Don’t give me that. I’ll come back later, if you like. I just need to speak with Sasha.”

Helen’s pout didn’t disappear, but she pointed a long, slender finger toward an innocuous tent that was hidden behind the many barrels of ale that had been prepared for that evening. “I saw her setting up in there,” she said. “I think it’s her fireworks, but I’m not sure. She didn’t even stop and say hello.”

“Right,” said Jon. “Well, I’ll be seeing you.”

He made his way quickly to Sasha’s firework tent, shoving through the crowds until he was able to duck inside. Sasha was there, thank heavens—Jon was just about ready to leave the party entirely if he had to talk to one more person.

“Jon!” said Sasha as she fiddled with the fuse of a long, red rocket. “I was looking for you earlier, but I couldn’t find you anywhere. Where have you been?”

Jon sighed. “Socializing,” he said, his voice dripping with disdain.

Sasha laughed. “Oh, come on,” she said. “You love it.”

Jon rolled his eyes, but he let his expression soften. “So what brings you back to the Shire?”

Sasha’s smile faded slightly around her eyes, which Jon noted and tucked away. “I needed to talk to Gertrude,” she said. “And I thought it would be nice to see everyone again. You know I miss you all when I’m on my travels.”

“Ah, your mysterious voyages,” said Jon. “Any chance we’ll get to hear some stories tonight?”

“Perhaps,” said Sasha, waggling her eyebrows.

“Speaking of Gertrude,” said Jon, “I should probably go and find her. I haven’t seen her all day.”

“Really?” Sasha asked. “She said she was planning on showing up early. Apparently, her and Eric had a bit of a fight last week, and she said she wanted to apologize before the festival really kicked off.”

“A fight?” Jon asked. “What about?”

“I don’t know. You know they haven’t been as close since Eric left the archives,” she said. “And he hasn’t been the same since the whole Mary thing, or since he lost his eyes.”

Jon hummed. “I’ll ask around, see if anyone’s seen her,” he said. “When are the fireworks?”

“Just after sundown,” said Sasha with a sparkle in her eye. “You won’t want to miss them.”

“No, I won’t,” Jon agreed. He glanced up at her. “I’ve missed you, too, you know.”

Sasha’s smile grew. “Oh, Jon!” she said, and she threw her arms around him. Jon squawked in protest as he was smothered by her flowing wizardly robes, but Sasha paid him no mind. She squeezed his shoulders tightly. “I know how hard that was for you to admit—”

“I am capable of talking about my feelings, you know.”

“—and I want you to know that I’m very, very glad to have you as a friend.”

Jon laughed, then pulled away, trying to extricate himself from a truly ridiculous amount of fabric. “All right, all right,” he said. “I’m going to go and find Gertrude. I’ll meet up with you later.”

“Go on and have fun. And, hey, try not to cause any trouble.”

Jon scoffed. “I do not cause trouble.”

“Sure, you don’t. Enjoy the party! Have some of Helen’s pastries. They’re delicious.”

Jon made his way out of the tent and back into the midst of the festivities. The sun burned in the sky, and the air was humid and heavy. Most of the party-goers had retreated to the relative shade of the small copse of trees in the northeast corner. Jon spotted Gerry sitting there with old Fiona Law, who was regaling a small group of children with a fairy tale that seemed to have put Gerry halfway to sleep.

“Gerard,” said Jon as he approached, “have you seen Gertrude?”

Gerry shook his head sleepily. “Figured she was with you,” he said. “She must have gotten caught up in the archives. Want me to go and look?”

“No, don’t trouble yourself,” said Jon. “I’m sure she’ll show up eventually.”

“Mm-hmm,” said Gerry. He closed his eyes once more. Jon left him to his nap.

It seemed the whole Shire had fallen into the afternoon daze. Jon took it upon himself to clean up some of the mess while everyone around him slept, then decided he could return to the archives and do some work before the fireworks that night. He doubted anyone would notice him leaving, sleepy as they all were.

When he reached the garden gate, a horrible, wriggling sort of sound brought him to a stop. He glanced around, looking for its source, and settled his gaze on a ball of silver worms that were intertwined so tightly with each other that they almost looked like one creature. Normally, Jon didn’t have a problem with worms–only spiders were enough to set him shivering–but something about the worms seemed wrong, reminding him of rot and decay and illness rather than good soil and the smell of summer. He suppressed a sudden bout of nausea and carefully stepped past them, keeping his distance as best he could.

Hobbiton was largely abandoned, as everyone was at the party. The sun had settled into that lazy mid-afternoon place where everything looked a bit like a dream. Jon brushed away a bit of sweat and then paused, hearing the wriggling sound once more. There were more of those silvery worms in the soil beside the main road, though not in nearly so high a concentration as the ones by Delano’s farm. Jon hurried on.

As he rounded the last corner, he heard something that made his heart drop in his chest: a panicked scream, coming from inside the archives.

Jon ran down the lane toward the scream. As he ran, he accidentally squashed a few silver worms underfoot. The sensation of their segmented bodies bursting against his toes made him shudder, but he did not slow his speed. He flung open the heavy wooden doors to the archives with a desperate groan, shoving against years of rust that had grown across the hinges.

Martin was pressed against the wall inside the door, clutching his chest as though trying to keep his heart inside. His face was white as a sheet.

“Martin?” Jon asked.

Martin whirled around, curls bouncing against his forehead. His eyes were wide, and his mouth was wider.

“Jon!” he said, clutching one hand to his chest.

“What’s the matter?” Jon asked urgently. “I heard a shout.”

“I— it’s—”

“For God’s sake, Martin, spit it out!”

“It’s Gertrude,” Martin gasped. “Jon, she’s dead.”

#the magnus archives #tma #tma fic #my stuff #rusty quill big bang 2020 #jonmartin

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alectology-archive · 4 years

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SJ/M’s plagiarism from fiction/media

I’m hoping to make a comprehensive list of all the sources SJ/M has outright ripped off from in the past. Feel free to comment down below or send an ask if you can think of anything.

SJ/M has very clearly ripped off of GRRM and JRR Tolkien’s works. Same goes for a lot of Anne Bishop’s works, too, and a lot of her favourite authors - so if anyone’s read books SJ/M has stated that she likes please let me know.

Note that this post will keep getting updated as I discover more evidences of plagiarism. Also note that there is every possibility that some resemblances are purely accidental and/or unintentional. So take it with a grain of salt.

(?) indicates a questionable addition to the post.

T/HRONE OF GLASS

- “The Queen Who Was Promised” comes from GRRM’s “The Prince who was Promised” prophecy in ASOIAF, who also goes by Azor Ahai, who wields Lightbringer, and is also known as the Son of Fire.

- “Aelin” is probably derived from “Aelin-uial” in the Silmarillion by JRR Tolkien. Additionally, it may have been derived from Aerin Dragon-Killer/Aerin Firehair from Robin McKinley's The Hero and the Crown, as SJ/M stated it was one of her favourite novels.

- “Fireheart” is the name of Corlath’s horse in The Blue Sword by Robin McKinley, an author SJ/M admires.

- Empire of Storms, 2016, contains the infamous line ‘velvet-wrapped steel.’ And… so does Fifty Shades of Grey, in 2011: ‘Steel encased in velvet.’

- “Valg” comes from Terry Brooke’s The Sword of Shannara, another author SJ/M admires.

- “Hope. You cannot steal it, and you cannot break it." is awfully similar to the line from The Princess Bride about love "you cannot track that, not with a thousand bloodhounds, and you cannot break it, not with a thousand swords". SJ/M has said that she loved the movie.

- The infamous “You could rattle the stars” is a ripoff of Treasure Planet’s “You’re gonna rattle the stars.”

- “To Whatever End” comes from The Two Towers where King Theoden says it just before the battle of Helm’s deep begins.

- “You bow to no one” is said by Aragorn at the end of the Return of the King after his coronation.

- Orynth has white walls and is surrounded by snow capped peaks. It has large white walls and bears an unusually striking resemblance to Minas Tirith in The Lord of the Rings.

- Aelin’s journey mirrors that of Aragorn. The lost heir to a powerful throne, spends years in the wilderness denying their claim, joins forces with the elf/faes to reclaim it and has an immortal elf/fae as consort.

- Nehemia names Aelin ‘Elentiya’, saying, “I give you this name to use with honour, to use when other names grow too heavy. I name you Elentiya, ‘Spirit That Could Not Be Broken’.” It sounds similar in tone and cadence to the way Galadriel describes the light of Earendil to Frodo. The name Elentiya even sounds Elvish, and sits discordant with the other naming conventions in Eyllwe.

- Manon gathers the witches to go to war by starting a series of beacons, lit all across Erilea, from snow-capped mountains to the woodlands - directly from the Return of the King when Pippin helps Gondor call for aid.

- The wall defences of Orynth are completely sound, except there’s one more way in, through a grate in the water canal - another striking resemblance to a place in Lord of the Rings known as Helm’s Deep. There is even a scene where someone asks if there’s a secret passage the women and children can escape through.

- In EoS and ToD, Chaol is referred to as “Hand of the King”. In GoT the “Hand of the King” is a title given to the King’s advisor.

- The speech that Haldir gave when he arrived in Helm’s Deep, uniting the elven and human forces, is paraphrased at least three times in this book. Most notably when Manon brings the Crochan witches to fight alongside the humans. She actually says “Long ago, Crochans and humans fought side by side…”

- Kingsflame blossoms bloom only when a kingdom is at peace and the rightful monarch is on the throne. Also a very similar plot point to the White Tree of Gondor in The Lord of the Rings.

- The dam breaking in Anielle and flooding is based on the Isengard dam breaking in The Two Towers.

- Chaol crosses the Narrow Sea to get to the southern continent. In GoT the Narrow Sea is the body of water between Westeros and Essos.

- The “Wyrdkeys” are the Silmarils. There are 3 Wyrdkeys and 3 Silmarils. They’re ancient and powerful stones forged by a being of great power (Feanor, who made the Silmarils, was the most powerful elf of all time). Everyone is fighting over them. And just like one Wyrdkey eventually ends up in the Terrasen Amulet, one of the Silmarils ends up in a necklace called the Nauglamir. They’re also all destroyed/lost at the end.

- Kingdom of Ash, page 543: “It was not arrows alone that had been fired, and now peppered the snow.But heads. Human heads, many still in their helmets.” In Return of the King, the orcs catapult severed heads (still in their helmets) over the walls of Minas Tirith.

- “What say you, Queen of Witches?”…….“I shall answer Terrasen’s call.” is a blatant rip-off of the scene where Aragorn approaches Theoden after the beacons are lit in the Return of the King.

- Rowan is referred to as, “My friend through many dangers.” which is exactly what Gandalf says about Shadowfax, his horse, in Lord of the Rings.

- The Land before Time, 1988: ‘Some things you see with your eyes. Other things you see with your heart.’

Crown of Midnight, SJM, 2011: ‘Some things you hear with your eyes. Other things you hear with your heart.’

- ‘Spirit that could not be broken’ is seen in Spirit: Stallion of the Cimarron (2002) and Throne of Glass (2011).

- It’s possible that SJ/M may have plagiarised Maria V Snyder’s Poison Study(?) (published 2005). Both books begin with the heroine being released from prison and being offered the choice to be freed by working for the very rulers who’d imprisoned them. Also, Valek - Yelena’s love interest - is the greatest and most feared assassin in the country and also acts as a mentor to Yelena much like Rowan does in Heir of Fire. However, I think this is a questionable addition despite similarities because SJ/M began writing Queen of Glass in 2003 and all the aforementioned aspects that are similar were already present in the version she published online.

- S/JM has saved a pin of Connor Kenway from the Assassin's Creed series (AC3) as Rowan and Lorcan on Pinterest. Towards the end of the series they started using hatchets as weapons, which is Connor's choice of weapon, outside of swords, and is used heavily in art which features him. Aelin's assassin suit from the earlier books also had a blade built into it, which was very similar to the hidden blade the assassins in Assassin's Creed use.

Further reading: Why not everyone liked Connor’s characteristic traits being ripped off: https://dragonidk.tumblr.com/post/614614548495859712/i-went-through-sjms-tog-pinterest-board-the-other

Further reading: An article comparing EoS’s ending to Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: https://thebookfinch.wordpress.com/2016/09/08/review-empire-of-storms-by-sarah-j-maas-in-which-we-discuss-plagiarism/

A/COTAR

- “Prythian”, the A/COTAR world, is taken directly from Anne Bishop’s Daughter of the Blood.

- The Archeron sisters could be based off the painting “The Acheson Sisters” by John Singer Sargent which features three women.

- The Illyrians could have been based off of the Eyriens from Anne’s Bishop’s Black Jewels series. Both are warrior races with bat wings that use a war blade to fight with. They also both completely refuse their women any right to fight and consider losing their wings to be the absolute worst thing that could happen to them.

- Feyre tells Tamlin, “The sun was shining when I left you.” which is basically Paris saying, “The sun was shining when your wife left you.” in the movie Troy (2004)

- Rhys proclaims, “Light can be found even in the darkest of hells,” Which is really close to Dumbledore saying (in Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban), “Happiness can be found, even in the darkest of times, if one only remembers to turn on the light.”

- Daenerys: “We’re going to leave the world better than we found it.”

ACOWAR: “Leave this world… a better place than how you found it.”

- “Pity those who don’t feel anything at all.” is a variation of “Pity the living and above all, those who live without love,” said by Dumbledore in the Deathly Hallows.

- A Dance of Dragons, George R.R. Martin, 2011: ‘He is fire made flesh, she thought, and so am I.’

ACOMAF, 2016: ‘Fire - he reminded her of fire made flesh.’

- SJ/M may have also plagiarised The Chronicles of Prydain for ACOTAR wherein Prythian is altered to Prydain and The Cauldron is derived from The Black Cauldron. This may be especially true considering the fact that SJ/M has expressed her love for the books and stated it on Twitter. She also went on to mention that she got the name for Prythian from those books. Similarities to the cauldron can also be seen in the fact that SJ/M’s Cauldron can transform humans into fae while Alexander's Black Cauldron is able to resurrect the dead.

!!!! Further Reading: Noticeable similarities between ACOTAR and The Chronicles of Prydain series: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Chronicles_of_Prydain

- Possible plagiarism(?) of Titanic: Rose is Feyre, Cal is Tamlin, Jack is Rhys. The story is similar - the girl is involved with a guy who seems nice enough, but turns out to be abusive etc. There are similar incidents of the table being chucked across the room/and the study being destroyed. Then you also have the girl being told the other guy isn't nice and she should stay away from him, but then it ends up being the other way round. The guy bosses her about, making her decisions for her and ends up dying for her later on.

- Rhapsody by Laura Thalassa and A/COTAR have awfully similar tropes. Both involve faeries, in both the main female lead leaves her barbaric boyfriend to go with the dark, elegant Fae boyfriend who came to collect a debt.

Further reading: A conversation in comparing The Vampire Diaries(?) to ACOTAR: https://crescentcitysux.tumblr.com/post/618622356795064320/iolanthepeverells-pokeyfaes

Further reading: Similarities between Shatter Me and the ACOTAR trilogy: https://discountalien-pancake.tumblr.com/post/174823303683/dont-take-this-as-an-attack-im-just

C/RESCENT CITY

- Similarities between the plot of Darkfever by Karen Marie Morning (an author S/JM likes) and Crescent City’s plot: https://polysorscha.tumblr.com/post/183661492639/funny-thing-i-came-across-the-crescent-city

- The Princes of Hel might be from the Seven Princes of Hell demonology (some ancient writings trying to classify demons in christianity). [MINOR INFRACTION]

Sources:

- @sjm-exposed

- @soartfullydone

- @falstaffing for “My friend through many dangers.”

- https://readatmidnight.com/2018/10/27/book-rant-kingdom-of-ash/

- strangestoryteller.com

- https://camryndaytona.com/2019/08/sarah-j-maas-and-jrr-tolkien

- @rougeam for “fire made flesh”

- @sylphene for Aerin firehair

- @sylphene and @paperbacktrash for The Chronicles of Prydain.

- An anon for the Laura Thalassa comparison

- @hireath24 for the Crown of Midnight quote and “spirit that could not be broken.”

- @pokeyfaes and @iolanthepeverells for The Vampire Diaries comparison

- A reddit thread for the Titanic comparison

- An anon for the Eyrians

- An anon and @dragonidk for the Assassin’s Creed addition

- @longsightmyth for Fireheart

#anti sjm #anti tog #anti acotar #anti ccity

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fandomrewrites · 4 years

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Season 2; Episode 3: Ice Pick

Hello all! I’m back home from my vacation so I’ll be back to updating every Monday but I figured since I missed last week I would post a chapter today! I hope you all enjoy and as always constructive criticism is welcomed!

Season 2; Episode 3: Ice Pick

Pairings: Scott McCall x Twin Sister, Lydia Martin x Best Friend

Warnings: Nothing

Word Count: 2,220

Season 2 Masterlist

Today was the day we were rock climbing in gym class. I was standing next to Lydia and Stiles as we watched Allison and Scott climb the wall. Allison and Scott slowly made their way up the wall, clearly talking to each other. After about a minute they start racing the other up, Scott using his supernatural abilities to stay just above Allison. When Allison looks to see Scott by her side, she quickly kicks his foot away from the wall. She smiles triumphantly seeing him fall back to the ground, the safety line stopping him right before he slams into the mat.

I smirk as Coach leans down to speak to my brother, “McCall, I don’t know why, but your pain gives me a special kind of joy.” He straightens back out and turns around to address the class, “All right, next two. Stilinski. Erica. Let’s go.”

Stiles happily steps up towards the mat, getting on his harness and safety lines without a problem.

Nervously, Erica Reyes, a skinny girl with dull blue eyes and fizzy blonde hair, steps up beside him. As soon as they are both safely attached to the harness and cables they start climbing.

Stiles has no problem quickly reaching the top and making his way back down. Erica on the other hand, has made it about a quarter of the way up and stays frozen to the spot. As we all gaze up at her Coach starts speaking, “Erica? You okay? Dizzy? Vertigo?”

Next to me Lydia sighs, “Vertigo’s a dysfunction of the vestibular system of the inner ear. She’s just freaking out.”

I lightly elbow her, I’ve never talked to Erica, hell I barely even knew she exists since she’s never been in my friend group, but I still don’t want people to make fun of someone with a fear.

Once again Coach calls out, “Erica!”

“I’m fine!” She shakily calls out, still frozen on the rock wall.

“Coach, maybe it’s not safe. You know she’s epileptic.” Allison speaks up.

“She is? Why the hell doesn’t anyone tell me these things? Erica, you’re good. Push off. I’ll ease you down.” Erica is still frozen, the only thing she moves is her eyes, squeezing them shut.

“Erica just let go.” Coach calls up once more. Finally, Erica gently pushes off the wall. She grasps tightly to the safety line as Coach eases her from the wall. Her feet hit the mat and she shakily gets out of the harness, “That’s it. Erica. Shake it off.”

A few kids snicker at her as she walks to the back of the crowd. Sighing, I step up to the wall with Lydia by my side. I turn to her, smirking, “Race you to the top?”

There is a mischievous glint in her eyes as she replies, “It’s on.”

*_*_*_*_*_*

Now in the locker room, I was changing out of my gym clothes with Allison and Lydia nearby. “You’re coming with us tonight, right?”

I look over at Lydia and immediately shake my head. “What? Why?”

“Well Allison and Scott are going to be together, and even though you don’t like him like that Stiles and you will be together.”

Lydia pulls her lips into a pout, “That’s not happening and you know it.”

I roll my eyes but before I can say anything Allison speaks, “Nothing has to happen, but the point is that you two did go to the dance together and he does like you. (Y/N) doesn’t want to be a fifth wheel.”

I nod my head, agreeing with the hunter. “You won’t be the fifth wheel! Stiles would be.” Lydia exclaims with a bright smile lighting up her face.

I shake my head, a laugh escaping, “I am not getting in between whatever weird relationship you and Stiles have.”

Lydia dramatically sighs, “Then bring a date! There are plenty of guys on the lacrosse team that would love to go out with you!”

I scrunch my nose up at the thought, “No thanks. I’m living my life and I do not need a man in it to be happy.” I pause pulling my shirt over my head, “Plus, Nate really screwed me over and no matter how much I want to move on, I know it wouldn’t be fair to whoever I go out with. I’m just not ready to start dating yet.”

Lydia’s shoulders sagged as we made our way out of the locker room and back into the gym, “You girls have fun though.” I smile, trying to cheer Lydia up.

Just as I finished speaking we looked up and saw Scott running towards the rock wall, making it just in time to catch Erica from hitting the ground.

*_*_*_*_*_*

I sat with the girls at lunch, Lydia still trying to convince me to come with them to the ice rink tonight. Before I could speak and tell her no once more the cafeteria doors burst open, our heads all swivel to look at whoever enters.

The girl has a face full of makeup, styled blonde hair, a tight black skirt, showing off her long legs, a white tank top and black heels. “What. The holy hell. Is that?” Lydia asks.

Scott’s eyebrows knit together, “That’s Erica.” He states from the table next to us.

As the exchange is happening, Erica reaches down grabbing an apple from another student’s tray. She bites into it, then quickly turns on her heel and walks out the doors. Scott, Stiles and I quickly move after her.

We follow her to the front of the school where she exists, walking down the steps and into a black Camaro, Derek Hale sitting behind the wheel.

“So what? He’s just turning a bunch of teenagers?” Stiles asks.

Scott gulps, “He’s forming a pack.”

*_*_*_*_*_*

I sit at my desk writing an essay for class. I’m so focused that I don’t hear my mom walk into the room behind me, “Working on homework?”

I jump at the sound of her voice, “God, mom! Don’t do that.”

She chuckles gently, “Sorry.”

Turning to look at my mom who sits on my bed, I answer, “Yeah, I have an essay for English due in a couple of days.”

She nods, “Scott’s not home?”

I shake my head, “He’s with Stiles.”

“You didn’t want to go with them?” She asks.

“Not today. I figured they should have some guy time.”

“What about Lydia?”

“She’s on a date. She tried to set me up so we could go on a double date like we used to but I said no.”

“Well why not? I’m sure there are plenty of guys from school that would love to go out with you.”

I sighed and stood up to sit next to my mother. I laid my head on her lap as she started playing with my hair, “Well-” I hesitate before speaking up again, “I know that what Nate did was horrible, but I can’t help but still care about him.”

“Oh sweetie, you loved him. He broke your heart. It’s going to take some time for you to move on and that is okay.” My eyes started to get misty as I rapidly blink, refusing to cry.

“I know I just- I don’t want to care about him anymore. He doesn’t deserve my love.”

My mother smiled sadly, “No, he doesn’t. But I think it’s beautiful, how deeply you care and love. That’s something to cherish (Y/N).” She paused for a minute, continuing to run her hand through my long locks, “It’s alright to feel broken sometimes and someday you will find someone who looks at you like you put the stars in the sky. And when that day comes and all the days leading up until then, I will be by your side.”

I sat up and pulled her into a tight hug, “I love you so much, mommy.”

“I love you too.”

*_*_*_*_*_*

At lunch the next day I sat near Allison and Lydia, like most days. “How was the date last night? I never got the chance to ask.” I look at the two girls waiting for an answer.

“It was nice to be able to go on a date again.” Allison smiled.

I turned to Lydia, “I surprisingly had a good time. But that may just be because I’m good at ice skating.”

I smirk, “Are you sure it’s not because Stiles was there?”

Lydia rolls her eyes, “Yeah, I’m sure.”

“I don’t know why you won’t give him a chance. He practically worships the ground you walk on. He’ll treat you like a queen.”

“I don’t like him like that. And once again, I’m going to ask. If you have such high praise for him why don’t you date him?”

I shake my head, “One it would be weird considering he’s practically another brother. And two I’m not ready to date again, which you already know.”

Lydia gently grabs my hand, “(Y/N/N) I know that you’re hurt about how Nate treated you but you need to move on. He’s not worth it and there are so many people at this school alone that have crushes on you.”

“She’s right you know.” Allison pipes up.

“Not you too.” I groan, looking at the hunter.

“Listen, I get it. You loved Nate and it’s going to take some time to fully get over him. But as long as the guys that you go on dates with understand that you aren’t ready for a real relationship, what’s the harm?” Allison says.

I sigh, “I guess there is no harm to going on dates if they’re aware of where I stand. I just don’t want to lead someone on.”

“That’s why you tell them the truth from the beginning. I mean I’m pretty sure everyone in the school knows what happened between you and Nate anyway. I’m sure whoever you choose to date will understand.” Allison smiles.

“Or you could have some fun.” Lydia shrugs,

I raise an eyebrow, “You mean don’t tell them anything and just lead them on?”

“No. I mean don’t do dates but become friends with benefits with someone.”

I laugh, “I’ll pass, Lyds.”

“It’s just an option.” She hums, a small smile on her face.

*_*_*_*_*_*

Just as school lets out Scott and Stiles filled me in on what they knew about Derek’s new pack. “So he’s going after Boyd?” I question.

Scott nods, “I’m going to head to the ice rink to see if he’s at work. Stiles is heading to his house.”

I nod, “I would volunteer to come with one of you but I promised Lydia I would hang out today. Be careful, both of you.” The two brunettes nod as we go our separate ways.

“There you are.” Lydia says as I meet her by her car.

“Sorry, I was talking with Scott and Stiles.”

“I’m happy you said yes to a girl’s afternoon. I feel like we haven’t hung out in forever. Just the two of us, I mean.”

I smile, “I know. I miss our girl days.”

Once we made it to her house we grabbed some snacks from the kitchen and headed up to her room. “Okay so I actually wanted to talk to you about something.” Lydia says as we sit next to each other on her bed.

“If this is about trying to set me up you already know how I feel about that.”

“Okay, one, I figured Allison and I convinced you to give dating a try. And two, it’s not about that.”

“If I do give dating a try, I want it to be with someone I choose. Not someone you set me up with. Bit that’s beside the point, what was it that you wanted to talk about.”

Lydia sighs, “I told the others not to tell you but I hate hiding things from you.” She pauses as I knit my eyebrows together in confusion. “Something happened at the ice rink yesterday.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well- It’s hard to explain.” Lydia bites her lip.

I reach for her hand to provide some sort of comfort, “Hey, it’s alright. Take your time.”

She nods, “I don’t really know what happened but one minute everything was fine and the next I was on my knees looking at the ice and screaming.” She gulps before she continues, “I think it might have something to do with when I went missing.”

“Maybe it’s your mind trying to remember what happened.” I suggest.

“It could be.” She replies hesitantly. “I just feel like a freak. Everyone was so worried about me and I couldn’t even give them an explanation of what happened.”

“Well trust me, Scott, Stiles, and Allison will not look at you like you’re a freak. Plus, even if they did, they’ll have to look at me like I’m a freak. ‘Cause I’m never leaving your side, no matter how freaky you may become.” I gently smile at my best friend.

Lydia starts smiling at my words, “I guess we’ll just have to be gorgeous freaks together.”

“Always.” I pull her into a tight hug. We both fall onto her mattress as we laugh at the other.

#teen wolf imagine #series rewrite #sister mccall imagine #lydia martin imagine

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foxydivaxx · 3 years

Text

Eren, Lelouch, Light, Seto Kaiba and Sasuke: Beautiful Sinners Chapter 2

Even more comedy from these lads guys. Enjoy.

"Now what do we have here?" Sasuke asks as he opens the wardrobe nearest to him. The strange man that brought the boys together, whom they all decided to dub "Wizard-kun", brought them to a massive mansion off the coast of the city they are yet to know about.

The mission was simple: live together in a single dorm and carry out various tasks together whilst living like normal boys their age in the modern world; something that would be completely alien to both Sasuke and Eren given the worlds they were once a part of. Part of that means that they would have to go to high school like most other kids, something all five of them greatly detest but begrudgingly accepted. Worst part, they have to start school today.

Light who was next to him peers into the wardrobe. Inside they were already clothes, expensive looking clothes to be exact. "As much as I do not trust Squishy, I must say that the dude got good taste." says Light as he pulls out a pair of blue jeans and a black T-shirt.

"Hmmm…might as well wear this." says Sasuke as he pulls a black dress shirt and matching pants off the hanger.

"Nice outfit Spiky." Light says in a joking tone. Sasuke snorts with laughter. "You are one to talk!" Light then shrugs. "Oh! I can't believe I forgot to introduce myself! The name is Light Yagami." he says holding out his hand.

Sasuke grins and take his hand and shakes it. "Uchiha Sasuke."

Meanwhile, Lelouch steps out of the shower, drying his hair with a towel. Seto chose a seperate room for himself which was just down the hallway so he and Eren decided to be roommates whilst Sasuke and Light got the other room.

He stops upon seeing Eren who was seated on his bed, deep in thought. "You ok?" he asks with concern in his voice. Eren just sighs. "I…I honestly don't know." Lelouch comes closer to the boy. "You better speak up big guy."

"The name is Eren."

Lelouch then chuckles softly. "Ah yes. None of us never properly introduced ourselves. I am Lelouch by the way." he says. "Nice to meet you Lelouch."

"Same. Not everyday one meets like-minded souls." The former Prince jokes. Eren laughs. "True. I guess I am just thinking about what he said about our past sins."

"Don't think too much about it. Besides, you now have four comrades that are willing to share that burden with you regardless of your actions." Eren smiles softly. "Thanks." Lelouch grins and pats his shoulder. "Come on. Go take a shower." Eren gets up and rushes into the bathroom.

Seto who was in his room goes through the contents in his wardrobe. Most of the clothing bore a striking similarity to outfits he had worn during his life. Wait…am I truly dead?

He simply shakes his head, refusing to think about anything at that moment and instead figure out his clothing for the day. He settle for the nice white suit with a red shirt. "Play it simple." he mutters to himself.

He has the terrible misfortune of babysitting all these guys plus he is in charge of the cash. This would surely turn out well. Perhaps…..

"So this is how people in this timeline dress?!" Eren exclaims as he checks himself in the mirror. He opted for a green shirt, a nice black bomber jacket and a pair of black jeans with green and white trainers. Lelouch gives him the thumbs up. He went for something more casual which was a purple shirt with a white blazer and white trousers and brown court shoes.

At that moment, Sasuke and Light join them. "Hi you two." says Eren. "You look great in that outfit." says Light. "Thanks man." Eren replies. "What are your names you two?" Lelouch asked. "Sasuke." says Sasuke. "Light." says Light.

"Eren."

"Lelouch."

"Remains Mr Dramatic." says Light. "I heard that." says Seto as he makes his presence known.

"Well someone is dressed for the occassion." Lelouch says jokingly. The other boys snicker. Seto rolls his eyes. "Anyways gentlemen, are we ready? We got a city to survey."

The boys nodded and head out of the house. "This way boys." says Seto as he leads them into the garage. The other boys gasp as soon as they see the cars.

Eren runs over to the beautiful red Aston Martin. "This is beautiful!" Sasuke comes over to look at it. "Are we gonna ride in this?!"

"Look at that!" says Sasuke, pointing at a computer system. Lelouch walks over and takes a look at it. "Nice."

"Wizard-kun is not playing man." says Light. "Nuff said." says Lelouch. Seto smirks. "Alright boys, lets go paint the town red!" he says, picking up the car keys from the table.

He then points at the Aston Martin and immediately, they all hop inside.

"The world ain't ready for us." says Sasuke. "Pfft…when would they ever be?" says Eren, laughing.

"That's because we the baddest and most awesome set of bitches on Earth." says Light. "We be sinning, stylin and proflin like the unapologetic bitches that we are." Lelouch adds.

"We too good. Way too flawless which says a lot for a lot of the basic bitches out there." says Seto with a huge smirk on his face. The others exchange smirks as well.

"Some bitches lack taste and standards and it fucking shows." says Eren. "Sorry not sorry!" says Sasuke. Seto's smirk broadens. "Let's go raise some hell boys!" With that, they drive off into town.

Funny how they are getting along xD.

#eren jaeger #eren yeager #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #snk #aot #lelouch lamperouge #lelouch vi britannia #code geass #sasuke uchiha #naruto #light yagami #death note #seto kaiba #yugioh

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magmagpie · 4 years

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Poachers are Jackasses, Change my Mind - Wild Kratts Fanfiction

(Martin has an unfortunate run in with some poachers.) (Mentions of blood and injury, this has been your warning.) (Also, I drew an illustration at the bottom, if you wanna see that.)

"Martin!" Chris yelled into the forest. "Martin, where are you?"

"You sure it's this way?" Aviva asked the younger brother.

"Sure I'm sure," Chris grinned. "Martin sent me his coordinates. He said that was where the bear cubs were. And besides, no harm in going the wrong way a couple of times."

Aviva rolled her eyes before continuing their search for the den. They both called out for the blue-clad brother, though neither really expected a response. When Martin had his mind set on a baby animal, there was no grabbing his attention back.

But as they ventured deeper into the forest, an unsettling pit formed in their stomachs. The more they called, the louder the silence that settled afterward sounded. There was another reason they weren't getting a response.

"I have a bad feeling about this, Chris," Aviva spoke what they had both been thinking for many minutes.

"Me, too," Chris agreed. "Martin! Martin, please answer me! This isn't funny, anymore, dude!"

"Chris..." a weak voice rasped.

"Did you hear that?" Aviva halted, grabbing the brunette's green sweater.

"Yeah," Chris pulled his arm away to keep walking. "Martin!? Was that you!? Martin!"

"Chris..." the voice came again. "Over here..!"

"Martin, keep talking!" Chris broke into a run, hoping to come across his brother sooner.

"Chris.." he was so close.

Chris looked ahead, catching sight of something blue on the ground. Adrenaline shot through him like a bullet as he ran up to it.

It was none other than his older brother. Chris dropped to his knees, grabbing his brother's shoulder and flipping him over. He had a wound in the right side of his head, and a puddle of blood seeping out from under his jacket.

Chris unzipped the blue coat, pulling back the side. There was a large, bloody rip in his originally white t-shirt. Underneath that was a deep wound, bleeding profusely.

"Martin," Chris looked at his brother's face. "What happened!?"

"Poachers..." the word krept out of Martin's mouth like a snake out of its hole.

"Where are the cubs?" Aviva came up beside Chris.

"Over there..." Martin raised his hand a little, pointing at a cave in a bound of rocks. There was also a large puddle of blood that he didn't dare look directly at.

"Call Koki and Jimmy," Aviva ordered, rushing to the den. She poked her head in, olive green eyes landing on two shivering bundles of black fur. "I've got the cubs."

Chris pulled out his Creature Pod, dialing for the Tortuga. He informed Koki and Jimmy on the situation when their faces appeared on the small screen. He told them their coordinates, and hung up, putting the Creature Pod back in his pocket.

"Martin," Chris shook his brother's shoulder a little. Martin opened his eyes a crack to look up at him. "What happened to you?"

"..." Martin breathed heavily in preparation for the explanation. "They got their mother..."

Martin laughed as he played with the bear cubs. Normally, he wouldn't even think about going near a bear cub, but, for whatever reason, this mother bear really didn't seem to mind. She just kept watch, like he was simply someone her kids invited over to play.

"You two really like those berries, huh?" Martin raised an amused eyebrow. The two bear cubs were snacking on little red berries on a nearby bush.

He picked a few of the berries, drawing the cubs' attention. He held his hand out to them, watching them try shoving each other out of the way to get the tiny fruits.

"I'll need to come up with special names for you two," Martin smiled.

One cub decided at that moment that he wanted a dirt bath. He rolled around in the dirt, his black fur instantly being coated in a light brown. Martin laughed.

"Okay," He reached over, petting the dirty cub on the head. "You're Dusty."

But before he could come up with another name, a loud boom rang through the surrounding area. Martin flinched, immediately standing up.

The mother bear growled under her breath. Martin scrambled the cubs into the den to keep them out of trouble.

The gunshot rang again and a pained roar echoed in Martin's ears. Mama Bear stumbled a little as she hobbled off the top of the den. There was a wound in her side, where the bullet had hit her.

"Oh no," Martin gaped at her. He would have gone up to her and try to help her, but he knew she would only snap at him.

More gunshots sounded, making Martin flinch. He whipped around in search for whoever was shooting at them. But there was no one else anywhere.

When he looked back at Mama Bear, she was laying on her side in a puddle of blood. Martin gagged involuntarily. He shook his head, trying to calm his racing mind.

"Stop shooting!" He demanded to whoever would listen. "There are cubs she has to take care of!"

There were murmurs of a discussion coming from somewhere he couldn't place. He stood his ground, anyway, though kept his eyes off the bloody mass that was the mother bear.

There was rustling from the bushes and out walked a man, not much shorter than him. He had black hair and a scruffy beard and mustache. He also had a light machine gun held at his side in both hands. Martin didn't say anything to him, simply standing tall with a stern glare.

"Isn't this cute," The man commented. "You from here, boy?"

"None of your business," Martin spat. "What are you going to do with her?"

"Classified," The man gave a grave stare.

"You have no right to hunt the bears in this area," Martin informed him. "This is off hunting grounds."

"You know a lot about the area," The gruff gentlemen contemplated. "What did you say your name was, kid?"

"Kratt," Martin saw no wrong in telling him his name, not to mention who had the gun in this situation. "Martin Kratt. And you are?"

"You're one of those Kratt monkeys, are you?" the bearded man huffed. "The name's Rider. I'm your enemy, as far as Kratts and hunters are concerned."

"..." Martin glared at him as a response.

"What's wrong?" Rider teased. "Wild cat gotcha tongue?"

"Leave the bear alone," Martin ignored the joke. "She has a special role to play in the forest."

"Not, gonna, happen," Rider refused slowly.

Martin felt a surge of rage and soon found himself tussling with Rider for his gun. He knew it was a bad idea, but the flashes of sudden anger was overwhelming and he couldn't help himself. He had to help the bears at whatever cost. And if he was lucky, he could get it out of his hands and call his team for back up.

Rider, to combat his incredible strength, twisted the gun around and bashed the shoulder end into the side of the blonde's head. Martin, at the same time as this, felt an excruciating pain in his rib cage. He crumpled to the ground, unable to hold himself up on his wobbly legs.

He looked to the side to see who had shot him. Standing in the bushes was another man. He looked younger than Rider, and he had orange hair and a pistol.

"Grab the beast," Rider ordered.

Both poachers walked passed the painful blonde to the still heavily bleeding mother bear. Martin watched them take one end each and start carrying her away.

"I hope you realize, Kratt," Rider stopped to looked down at him. "You've lost this round." Martin heaved as the men continued walking.

"Sorry," He strained. "I didn't catch that..I don't speak bullshit.."

Rider immediately dropped his end of the bear and whipped around, booting him hard in his bullet wound. Martin grunted as he collapsed the rest of the way to the ground.

"You said that?" Chris asked in disbelief.

Yes, Martin had no problem whipping out a curse when he was mad enough, but in a situation where the opposing person could easily make sure it would be the last curse he said, he was usually more careful about it. This was a poor example of that care.

"Yes," you could hear the anger in his voice through the strain of speaking. "And I don't regret it..I meant it.."

"I'm just shocked they didn't take the cubs," Aviva commented from her spot sitting on the other side of him. She had both bear cubs to either side of her.

"Poachers like those guys don't typically take baby animals," Martin informed. "They have no use for them..so they take the parents, and leave the babies to die.."

"These two are still lucky to be alive," Chris added. "A lot of the time, poachers will wound animals they don't take, even the babies. Maybe they didn't because Martin was there."

"That's what I'll call her," Martin smiled at the unnamed bear cub. "Lucky...Dusty and Lucky..the bear cubs.."

"Where are Koki and Jimmy?" Chris wondered anxiously. "We have to get Martin to the Tortuga. The bleeding's getting worse." Martin's eyes drifted down in the direction of his chest wound. "No." Chris put his hand between his eyes and the tons of blood. "Don't look. You'd be out before Jimmy could finish a slice of pizza."

Martin gave an airy chuckle. His moment of humor was interrupted by his bullet wound deciding laughter was too much and flared up all at once. His brain started feeling a little loopy from the loss of blood. So, naturally, he winced.

"..." Chris gave him a worried look.

"We have to go after them," Aviva told the brothers. "You said they took their mom."

"Aviva," Martin looked at her sadly. His voice was quiet, whether it was because he was upset or because he was getting tired was beyond the group of creature adventurers. "Mama Bear is dead...there's no way she survived so many gunshots..."

"He must have hit you harder in the head than we thought," Aviva spat at him. "The Martin I know would never give up on a captured animal. We don't know for sure they killed her."

"No," Chris shook his head. "He's right. Poachers don't usually leave the hunt unless what they've hunted is dead. Sometimes they'll kill it later if they have no other choice."

"But there was no threat to what they were after," Martin added. "After they took me out, nothing stood between them and their target..."

"..." Aviva couldn't combat their arguments, no matter how much she wanted to. She could see it on their faces; they didn't want it to be true, either. They'd just come to accept the truth for what it was, even if it was possibly the hardest thing they'd ever had to do.

A few minutes of silence passed. Martin had closed his eyes, which seemed like the only escape from the unbearable( ;} ) pain of his wounds. Just when his brain started feeling light, almost like he was about to fall asleep, he was roused by his brother's voice.

"Martin?" Chris asked. "You still awake?"

Instead of a verbal response, Martin cracked his eyes open. Only, as soon as he did, his vision was overrun by swelling black dots and he could have sworn he was transported to space, judging from the stars he was seeing. His head started pounding harder than a professional drummer on concert night and his chest felt tighter than a track-runner's shoelaces. A horrid experience, wouldn't you say?

"C-Chris..." he wheezed out. "I-I can't...breathe..!"

"He's lost too much blood," Aviva concluded, pulling out her Creature Pod and calling the Tortuga. "Koki, Jimmy, what's taking so long? This is an emergency, we need you here now."

"Sorry," Koki spoke from her own Creature Pod. She was in the garage, loading the Createrra with things they would need. "We had to put more gas in the Createrra, and the tire was flat so we had to replace it. We're on our way, hold tight."

Aviva sighed as the device shut off. She looked back up at the brothers. Martin was desperately trying to take a breath, but only managed fruitless heaves and wheezes. Chris was panicking, scared tears running down his cheeks.

She hoped they'd get there soon.

After about ten minutes of pure chaos among the three, they heard the beep of their only car. Aviva and Chris looked up from the nearly suffocated Kratt brother to see the Createrra drive up and park a few feet away.

Koki and Jimmy rushed out, going to the back to retrieve the stretcher. They brought it to their injured teammate, lifting him up onto it. He was looking extremely pale, due to the loss of blood.

Speaking of blood, his bleeding was beginning to slow. You may think that would be a good thing. But you'd be wrong. Martin was running out of blood to bleed. It was a miracle he was even awake right now. A miracle no one asked for.

When they got Martin back to the Tortuga, the girls did all they could to make sure he wouldn't die on them. He had lost too much blood, and needed a transfer. Good thing they kept packets of O- blood, just for situations like this. They expected to have run ins with poachers.

Unluckily for the oldest Kratt brother, he couldn't be asleep for any of it. His head injury made it dangerous for him to fall asleep until it was taken care of. And because his chest wound was more severe and life threatening, that had to be cared for first. The sight of the blood made every alarm in his head go nuts and his stomach decided to take up gymnastics.

But through all of it, Chris never left his side. He stood there the entire two hours, holding his hand. He kept his attention off the blood the best he could, but there wasn't much he could do while his head was being treated.

"Okay," Aviva wiped the back of her hand over her forehead. "I think we're finally done. You can rest, now."

Martin let out a shuddering sigh of relief. He was so happy that was over. All the pain he'd felt before in the forest had been multiplied by ten while they were working, and now was nothing more than a dull ache. But his brain was fuzzy, and his eyelids felt like they had elephants pulling them closed.

"You'll have to stay in the infirmary for a few days," Koki told him. "You're on bed rest until we say otherwise. So no adventures, no risk-taking, and no Creature Power Suit."

"I don't think he has the energy for a Creature Power Suit, Koki," Chris smiled at her. He looked down at his brother. He had fallen asleep, way too tired from the day to stay awake any longer.

#wild kratts #Martin Kratt #Chris Kratt #aviva corcovado #Koki #jimmy z #blood #injury #angst #i have no idea what im doing #fanfiction #i drew the picture before i wrote the fic #but i drew it myself #no tracing or outlines to follow #and im low key proud of it #but it is 2 am #so

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