#lanky tall bottom confirmed
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Pyro's Pyrotechnic Love Life - Chapter 7
For @contentment-of-cats. Also on AO3.
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Command Bridge, The Levinbolt, Task Force Spearhead
“Captain Pyrondi, come in.”
Yana groaned in frustration. What now? “This is Pyrondi. Send traffic.”
“Captain, there’s an unknown ship on approach. Pilot claims to be a bounty hunter with two dead members of Clan Wren. Wants to collect the bounty and requested that the ship captain deliver the bounty in person. Guild ident number checks out. Orders, sir?”
A contemplative silence. “Have a squadron of guards at the hangar bay and wait for me. I’m on my way. Captain Virgilio has the bridge.”
“Copy that, sir.”
Yana told the task force to wrap up and set course back to Tepasi, then went to change. She hasn’t worn traditional hides in too damn long, and it’d also throw the bounty hunter off-kilter.
A full security detail was already there by the time she got to the hangar. Chief General Tagge designated her a high-value asset when the bounty on her head, from way back during her last year at Royal, was recently reactivated. Four million credits turned a lot of heads her way. It also earned her the nickname ‘Unkillable’ amongst Mandalorian clans.
The man that stepped out of the ship was tall, lanky in that aristocratic way that suggested a runaway or disgraced noble, probably Kuati given the unique complexion. He had two bodies in Mandalorian armor on the cart behind him and a facial scan confirmed them as Clan Wren and the hunter as disgraced Kuati royalty. She nodded, a trooper handed her the box of credits to pass to him, and she turned to walk away. What a waste of her time.
The last thing she felt before blacking out was a sharp, searing pain in her back.
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The Tagges were no stranger to strangling worlds and systems, either in retaliation for an offense against them or just to get their way. Before the Republic existed, Helric Tagge rigged the Hydian Way, causing a collision in hyperspace that resulted in Alderaan, Chandrila, and Coruscant losing five thousand ships. The cost was so great that Alderaan swore pacifism, and Chandrila never built another warship. The resulting famine on Coruscant killed over two billion people. Nobody could prove a thing.
TaggeCo, already a multisystem conglomerate then, swooped in and grew exponentially. Brutal yet subtle suppression of any and all competition in its infancy, bribes, blackmail, extortion, assassination, orchestrated disasters. In twenty years, TaggeCo grew from a conglomerate to a supercorporation, then an empire of its own, spanning nearly the entire known galaxy.
When the Republic was created, Coruscant was picked as the capitol, but recorded history showed that Tepasi, and Helric himself, sat at the head of that table.
At the height of the Clone Wars, The Dynasty declared Tagge Space a neutral territory. The CIS tried to muscle in when Domina took the throne from her father Kyric, mistakenly seeing the change in leadership as a weakness to exploit. All of a sudden, Serenno had food riots, the Banking Clan lost all Tagge deposits, and the Techno Union didn't get a new contract, or any contract for that matter.
The Tagges opened their own bank and trading platform, offered high interest rates for low balances, and sucked away the masses. The Techno Union was replaced by TaggeCo workers, staffed through an aggressive recruiting campaign instead of leaning on the Republic Youth Corps for cheap labor like so many others. Domina bought every credit of Republic debt from the Banking Clan for a quarter of the price and squeezed the Senate’s economic balls just to remind them who was in control.
The likes of Kuat and BlasTech were all concerned with protecting their bottom lines while the Clone Wars raged on. Domina, however, saw the opportunity to revolutionize and took it. The Empire presented another such opportunity and she took that one too, getting the largest piece of War Mantle and a bunch of other military contracts to herself.
The Dynasty earned itself another name: The House, as in ‘Don’t bet against The House.’
Kuat wouldn’t stand a chance.
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Secondary Hangar Bay, The Levinbolt, Task Force Spearhead
Yissa was assigned by Virgilio to help receive and prepare Artur for surgery. As much as she was jealous of the man, she didn’t want him to die, and as such put every drop of effort into her work, carefully lifting him onto the medsled before swiftly cutting off his shirt, revealing a set of electro-tattoos, then his pants, with a pair of scissors.
She stopped dead to stare at his crotch, now only covered by his blacks. Remembered Yana’s dimensions in her head. How the kriff…
She shook her head and got back to work. Thank Coru she left him at the altar and ran. He might not even fit inside her, much less Yana.
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Sometimes you beat the odds and sometimes you don't. It was good luck that Ilyana had changed into her tuskie-hide tunic before meeting the ‘bounty hunter’ since the hide already had mild energy-dissipating properties. It was bad luck that the shot landed, partly burned through the back of the tunic and cloak, and dropped her in her tracks. The assassin was a male member of the Kuati Royal House, a fake declaration of disownment and an initiation into the guild set up by the Matriarch herself.
Yana didn't remember anything, from her point of view all she did was wake up in a bacta tank on the Acquisitor, painkillers up to the eyeballs and staring without comprehension at the medics outside her tank before her brain glitched out again.
Hurt.
“She's waking up.”
“Put her under again. That cloned skin graft is taking. She can't move for another few days at least.”
Ilyana woke up screaming. The pain was too much for tears. Too much for breathing, but her body did it stubbornly. In and Out. The simple motion blacked her out again and this time, Faro closed her hands over Yana's, creating a soft squeezy in her grip. “Squeeze, Yana. Squeeze it hard.”
And she did. The pain rode away from her like a leaf on the surface of a stream, and Yana sank in. Oh. No pain.
A soft darkness took her away to a place of strange silver starlight, paths and gateways, and Yana floated there. She watched herself be born, live, and die so many times, so many different outcomes. Then at one critical moment when her legs failed her, when hope failed her, her uncle threw her into the transport and shut the hatch.
All those other lives went dark as if someone flicked a switch and crumbled away. And then the dark bloomed with so many new lights, new colors, branches of light from one gateway to another.
“You’re the one who wasn't supposed to live. He’s the one who was never supposed to be. And you have both set me free.”
The voice was familiarly unfamiliar. Yana whirled around. A man, shoulder length brown hair, scar under his right eye, and ridiculously tall, was floating a ways away behind her.
“Who are you?” He was so... familiar. She could've sworn that they've met before.
He gave her a small smile, one full of kindness and pain. “My name is – was – Anakin Skywalker.”
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Secondary Medbay, The Levinbolt, Task Force Spearhead
Artur woke up… refreshed? What in the- Oh, wait. There’s the pain. Ow. Looked down. Signs of recent surgery on his left knee. Artur gave it a tap, felt his knuckles hitting metal. Prosthetic, most likely courtesy of TaggeCo R&D to feel this natural.
Looking around, he recognized the secondary medbay on one of the Armada’s capital ships. Not the Acquisitor, but certainly a Domina-Class. He stopped a passing medical droid. “Where am I?”
“Ah, Lord Artur. I am glad to see that you are awake. You are in the secondary medbay. You suffered a-“
“I know that. Which ship am I on?”
“The Levinbolt, milord.”
“Thank you.”
The Levinbolt. Spearhead. Auntie Domina mobilized the Armada, which meant someone gave her the code. Who knew the code? Him, Dad, Aylin, Domini, Lapin, Aunt Domi, Yana… Yana. Margulis bless that woman.
“Excuse me?”
“Yes, milord?”
“Is Ilyana Pyrondi on board?”
“Captain Pyrondi is currently undergoing post-surgery recovery in ICU Unit One, Lord Artur. Would you like to relay a message?”
She’s undergoing what!? Focus. Observation, assessment, action. In that order. “No. No message, thank you.” He waited for the droid to move out of sight before starting his ‘action’.
Medical Sergeant Eylod was the unlucky soldier assigned to watch over Major Tagge while he healed in post-op. He’d gone out for a cup of caf. It had taken him two minutes. When he came back, the bed was empty and the Major was nowhere to be found. “Oh grace be damned, not again. Sergeant Eylod to Captain Virgilio. Major Tagge escaped from medbay, sir. No tracks to follow.”
A sigh through the comms. “Of course he did. I’ll tell the guards around Pyrondi’s bed to be on the lookout and make a few calls. Prepare restraints and standby for updates.”
“Yes sir. Standing by.”
Max Veers was in the middle of a meeting when his personal comms chimed. Why the hell was Virgilio calling him? Did something happen to Artur? “Excuse me, gentlemen. This would take but a moment.”
Exit the room. Secure surrounding environment. Accept the call. “General Veers speaking.”
“Sir, Captain Virgilio here. Lets say, hypothetically of course, that Major Tagge went missing from medbay and there was no visible trace of his whereabouts. Where should we look first?”
A Long Suffering Sigh. “Was he alone?”
“Yes sir.”
“He’s in the floors. Or a large vent somewhere. Check for loose panels. If that is all?”
“That is all, General. Thank you.”
“Tell me when you find him. Veers out.”
Sigh. Lock emotions out of face. Reenter the room. “Apologies, gentlemen. Where were we?”
He remined himself to send a recording to Artur to berate the boy remotely.
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World Between Worlds
“General Skywalker. We studied your tactics in history class.”
A smile and chuckle. “I know you do. Word of advice, most of my so called 'tactics' were just me making shit up as I go.”
A scoff. “And yet when I do it I get a reprimand and a ton of lip. Why are you here, General? What is this place?” For a moment she was afraid that this was the After, but the stars reassured her that it wasn't. Part of her was sad, because at the end of her life she hoped to see her parents and kin again.
“This is somewhere... else. Most who know about it called it the World Between Worlds. We can see the past, present, and future here. You've just witnessed the change you made on Destiny.”
“General, with all due respect, Destiny is a bunch of-” Awake. Faro and Thrawn both hovering over her. So MUCH pain. Squeezed the squeezy. Okay. Black, then starlight and General Skywalker peering down at her. “Ohthathurtohthathurt.”
Yana cleared her throat. The pain lingers. “Excuse me, General. As I was saying, with all due respect, Destiny is a bunch of nerfshit.”
A Sigh, full of weight and pain. “I wish that were true. So much suffering could have been avoided if more thought like you, but Destiny is what it is. The simple fact of your continued existence and Artur's being at all is proof of Destiny. The Force itself has changed around both of you.”
Yana was... confused. “How so, General? Artur I get, he's a great man who will go on to do great things, but I'm just a humble officer.”
Anakin channeled his inner Drama Queen Kenobi before his next words. “The two of you form a dyad in the Force.”
And the child was absolutely unimpressed. He knew he liked this one for a reason. He should drop her on Obi – trying to be invisible on Tatooine – and see how it goes.
Yana didn't know a dyad from Orn Free Taa's left asscheek. “I saw all the other lives I could have lived, but one wiped them all out, and a bunch of other lives resulted. Destiny's a sloppy way to run a universe.”
“My old Master told me that Destiny gives people hope for something better, not only for themselves, but for others, for the future.”
“Even so, General, my point stands. Hope doesn't mean much if the thing giving hope makes a mess of everything in the first place.” She continued, “And there is nothing so cruel as giving people false hope, sending them looking for miracles instead of solutions, selling them a gilded bantha turd. We're fighting against false hopes and false promises right now. 'Restore democracy!' and 'Freedom' and 'Rights.' Democracy takes work, freedom needs infrastructure, and rights are balanced with responsibilities. But then again, telling people to use their brains instead of sitting on their ass has never been motivational.”
Her shoulders were burning. “Shit. The pain meds are wearing off again. Be right back.”
And she disappeared back to the material world once again. Anakin used the time to think. Did he agree with her?
…
Yes, absolutely. He and Vader seldom agreed on anything, but they did now.
Yana opened her eyes. Squeezed the squeezy. Silent scream because she did not have the energy for sound. Thrawn and Faro were still hovering over her.
“Welcome back, Ilyana.”
“No. I have to go back. I was talking with General Skywalker.” Needle in arm. Squeezed the squeezy. Out again. Thrawn started. Went out to contact the Executor and check what Vader was doing.
“And another thing. Corruption is contagious - it comes from the top down. Since you're a figment of my imagination, I'm going to tell you my life story. I was born on a world called Jegsziv-”
Vader was meditating, not to be disturbed. Tepasi breakout in ten. Plenty of time.
Anakin listened as Ilyana told her story. By the end he was incredibly pissed off, disgusted with Gererra as well, but calmed himself. First things first, clarification. “I'm not a figment of your imagination, Ilyana. I'm real... and alive.”
Yana felt her brain stopped. “What do you mean, you're alive? I don’t wish to contradict you, sir, but you died during the Battle of Coruscant.”
“My identity did. My body survived.”
“So you’re… someone else now? A new name?”
“Yes. A name given to me when I Fell. Darth Vader.”
“I’m sorry, sir. WHAT?!”
Artur felt a familiar flutter in the Force, what little of it he could feel, from his hiding spot under the flooring. Yana. That meant she was still alive!
Ben felt someone Tepasi dancing in the Force, and… Anakin. Not Vader. Not Darth. Anakin. He told Owen that he was leaving for a while, then took the next shuttle to Coruscant. It was the best place to reorientate himself with the Core before going to Tepasi.
He meditated during the fourteen-hour shuttle ride and attempted to get into the World Between Worlds again. He was successful this time and started looking for Anakin, pointedly ignoring the gateways.
Yana stumbled slightly. “Okay, I think they gave me too many drugs.”
Anakin smiled in understanding. “Once you wake up fully, Ilyana, go call Vader by my name. You’ll see.”
“Alright, fine. For the sake of argument, how did we meet?”
“Devastator’s command deck, above Terra. You were still a third-year cadet. Piett brought you aboard to install the Pyrondi System and update our targeting software.”
Yana couldn’t argue with that. Her shoulders were flaring with pain again. “Waking up. But if I call Vader by your name and dies I’m haunting you.”
A chuckle. “Deal. Make sure you try to relax through the pain. I’ll see you soon.”
And then she broke the surface of consciousness, the pain slamming into her. This time Lapin and Lady Domina were the faces greeting her. She whimpered. “What happened? It hurts so much.”
Lapin’s lips thinned. “You got shot. We've grafted cloned skin onto your back and taking you to Recovery. Putting you back under in three, two, one...”
And back under she went. Yana knew enough about medicine to know that she'd be under for a while. Decided to kill time by talking with General Skywalker again. “HEY. YOU THERE?”
Ben tripped over his own feet at that one.
“I'M OVER HERE.”
That was Anakin. He broke into a flat run.
Yana went looking, stopping occasionally to shout back and forth, almost like echolocation. Ben followed the shouting.
Anakin was standing in front of a gateway looking into the Jedi Temple by the time Ilyana found him. Lines of clones were marching up the steps with a cloaked figure in the lead. He looked at her as she approached. “Any improvements, Ilyana?”
“I got shot, sir. I’m not sure yet.” She looked at the gateway. “What’re you looking at? I can’t see anything.”
“You can't, but I can. This was my Fall. Trying to see if I can redeem myself from this.”
“Maybe I can't see it because it isn't mine. Why did you fall?”
A painful sigh. “Love. Anger. Desperation. Arrogance. Poor judgement, in the end. I committed some very heinous acts on the final day of the Clone Wars.”
Ben traced the pathways and saw two figures, one tall adult and a child, staring at a gateway. Ventured closer. The two had their heads together, talking. “Anakin?”
Yana jumped to intercept the stranger – an old man, then a young man, shifting back and forth. “Halt. Identify yourself.” Her clothing flickered from furs to service grays to formal whites with gold epaulets.
The stranger raised his hands placatingly. “My name is Ben Kenobi, young one.” His body settled on ‘young’ and he looked down. “Well, Obi-Wan Kenobi now. What’s your name?”
Yana's uniform darkened, senior lieutenant insignia on the chest, Seventh Fleet emblem on the shoulder. “Senior Lieutenant Ilyana Pyrondi, WSO of the ISD Chimaera.” Then it flashed back to the leathers and furs almost stubbornly, then to a red and gold wedding dress, then back to the uniform.
Between the dress and the uniform was a very brief flicker of white and gold. Obi Wan observed with interest. “Well met, Lieutenant Pyrondi.”
Ilyana studied him, then turned to ask Anakin, “He's a Jedi?”
Anakin had Darkness in his eyes. “My former Master. The man who crippled me and left me for dead on Mustafar.”
She was still standing in front of Anakin and raised her arm cannon. Suspicious of the Jedi – having only heard tales of the worst.
“Lower your weapon, Ilyana. He won't attack me. Not here.”
For a second, the bridge of the Chimaera flickers around them. “You're unarmed, sir.”
“I'm one of the most powerful Force-sensitives in recorded history, Ilyana. I'm never unarmed.”
“Copy that, sir. But if he moves wrong I'm ventilating him.”
Obi-Wan silently thought that this one might have been too young to have ever seen a Jedi. Or that she was passed over for some reason. She was strong in the Force, but also weak in the Force. And what was it with Anakin and small violent brunettes?
Oh well, at least this one wasn't dying in front of him, although there was still a lot of physical pain around her. He lowered his hands slowly and sat down. Anakin did the same. Something was different about his former Padawan, but what?
In the material world, Artur had finally managed to navigate his way to the Recovery Room. He climbed out of the floor grate carefully and stumbled to Yana’s bedside, idly making a note to recalibrate the pressure and sensitivity in his new knee before being cleared for active duty as he grasped her hand gently and looked at the monitors. Grafted skin directly onto blaster burn. Nasty business. Yissa was already there, slumped against the bedding and fast asleep.
Artur's touch got through and Yana leaned slightly off to one side. Maybe this was the place that the Dreamwalkers went? There was no one left to ask, but her people called this the world of dreams.
Yana manifested a comfortable chair and took a seat. The pain was present but distant, and from time to time she could see horrible injuries on General Skywalker. A head burnt and scarred, missing limbs and more burn marks across his body, dried blood everywhere. Her own pain throbbed slightly at the sight of him. This must be what Vader look like under that suit.
Sometimes both of them were covered in blood. Sometimes she was, too. In the medbay, her fingers curled around Artur's. One thing about Thrawn, he always act to minimize civilian casualties where others do not.
There were times when she questioned her own role in the Empire, where she questioned whether, by seeking to protect all the little Yanas, she was making more of them? Thrawn had said to command without doubts and regrets, and that the clarity of hindsight is either vanity, foolishness, or madness. Maybe she was, maybe she wasn't. The nature of Imperial service was that you didn't usually have time to reflect on such things, but she had time now.
In the outside world, Artur pressed his head against their joined fingers and fell asleep right before Revy came in to check on the Little Demon. Paused. Pulled out her comm. “Recovery Room clear. No sign of him.” She gently pulled two more beds over and deposited both him and Yissa onto them before leaving silently, making sure that they were both tucked into Yana’s sides. Messaged an update to Lapin.
Yana pulled on his presence for some comfort, the way she used to less than two years ago. Suddenly, the three of them were joined by a very big, very confused man.
“OH GRACE AND OH SHIT. Artur. Wait. Let me put him back.”
The wedding dress appeared on her again and then confusingly the comfy chair became a command chair. Obi-Wan was amused. Like most people her age, she was feeling the pull of multiple destinies.
Anakin shot a warning look at him. “Don’t use the D-word, Obi-Wan.”
Ah, one of those. Obi-Wan nodded in understanding.
Yana was so very confused about her clothing, panicked over Artur being here, and annoyed at her inability to send him back. Artur, meanwhile, fell back on his training. Observed, then his eyes landed on Anakin. A nod of acknowledgement. “Lord Vader.”
Anakin gave Yana a look that just screamed ‘Told you so’ and she glared at him. Suddenly, they were on the Chimaera’s bridge and she was once again in that damned white uniform.
Artur looked at her, glancing down at where a rank plaque would be before coming to attention. What was he smirking at? “Grand Admiral Pyrondi, sir.”
Yana directed her glare at him. “Don’t you start with me.”
Anakin was impressed. She had an unprecedented level of control over this plane of existence.
Their surroundings shifted again. This time, they were on a cold, grassy plain. Pyrondi flinched as if she’d touched fire, and they were back in the World Between Worlds.
Artur and Anakin both looked at her in understanding. "Your home world?" Anakin asked.
“Yes. I don't want to talk about it.”
The scene shifted again, this time to Coruscant and the Imperial Throne. Artur's outfit turned into royal attire and a crown materialized on his head.
Obi-Wan looked at the girl and the newcomer, then at Anakin. “What did you do?”
He had finally realized what was different about Anakin. The burden of Destiny was gone from him. The Anakin in front of him was the Anakin before he had to be The Chosen One. The one he would've become if the burden had never rested on his shoulders at all. Hardened by war, but not weighed down by colossal expectations.
Anakin just looked at him. “I didn’t do anything, Obi-Wan. What did you do?”
“I heard this one.” He pointed at Yana. “Yelling her head off looking for someone, and I heard you. The next thing I knew, I was here.”
Anakin probed into the Force only to find that his Master-Padawan Force bond, the one he’d shredded and burned, slowly putting itself back together.
They had a lot to talk about, so Yana pulled Artur to the side, still keeping her arm cannon close to aiming at this ‘Kenobi’ and still staying close enough to listen. Things were so mutable here. She needed to have some discipline or she’d be standing in her blacks soon enough.
Artur's outfit shifted again, this time back to the black of Special Forces. Yana glanced at his rank plaque and smirked at him. “Grand General Tagge, sir.”
Like she said. This place was so mutable.
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Undisclosed Location, Ryloth
Ahsoka shifted as she slept. Her dream was so strange. Anakin. Obi Wan. A Tagge, and it was obviously a Tagge, that she'd seen somewhere before, and a woman that was somehow familiar. All of them standing in the World Between Worlds, the same one Ezra had pulled her into.
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World Between Worlds
Anakin shifted between himself and Vader, all the pain slamming back into him as destiny – fine, he could see why she hated that word – tried to shove things back on track. The future wasn't set just yet. Anakin might not be the Chosen One anymore, but the outcome could still be changed back. Vader – Anakin – Vader decided that they needed to get rid of Palpatine, and fast, before the Force did something drastic to any of them.
Obi-Wan saw the moment that decision settled. “You can’t. He’ll kill you.” Despite past actions, he didn’t want that to happen.
“If I don't, Obi Wan, how long do you think it will take for him to kill them? The galaxy deserves a better destiny.”
Artur looked up at him. He was tall, but Anakin was ridiculous. “Would our chances be better if you get your organic body back?”
Yana thought about it and shrugged. “If they can put my back together, the Tagge medics can restore you.”
Anakin turned to Artur. “Can they do it? Regrow my body?”
Artur shrugged. “As long as there's still something organic inside that suit. It's gonna be slow, and extremely painful, but we can do it.” A contemplative pause. “But if Darth Vader disappears, the entire galaxy is going to go nuts. Besides, nobody can hide from Him. Or so I hear.”
“There are blind spots in the Force. Even for a Sith.”
Artur nodded, a plan forming in his brain. “Good. So we move you to one of those blind spots and... regrow you.”
Obi-Wan shook his head. The things money and lack of oversight can achieve.
The Tagge scion looked Anakin in the eyes. “There’s a prototype battle armor that TaggeCo is developing. We can modify the exterior to look like your suit for after the procedure. The galaxy is gonna need some stability once Palpatine is gone.”
“I never want to see that suit again. I'll breathe on my own, or not at all”, Anakin said softly. He was tired.
Yana nodded in understanding. There were times that she honestly wanted to stop breathing after she was torn away from her world and family. “Understood, sir. Do you want that suit burned or scrapped?”
Anakin smiled. He knew he liked her for a reason. “Burned, Ilyana. I don't want a single piece of it to survive or be usable.”
“When I was small, the Dreamwalkers would talk about artifacts that sapped life energy, but gave the user great power. I think that's for the best.” A twitch of a smile. She might just give this man her kyber turret prototype and see what it would take to destroy that suit.
Anakin smiled. A small, wain smile. “The myths I grew up with were all about Ekkreth. He was supposed to be our liberator, our vengeance against the depurs. Maybe, once the Old Bastard is gone I'll go back to Tatooine and finally make that happen.”
Yana smiled back at him. “I'll help you.”
A better destiny. Obi-Wan considered The Two. One not supposed to live, the other not supposed to be. “Now we just have to figure out how you disappear, Anakin.”
“Test-flying a new fighter is always a good bet.”
Artur looked at Obi-Wan. “Confirmed sightings of Kenobi in the Core?”
Anakin smirked. “That could work.”
Obi-Wan thought about it. It could work. Maybe. “It would have to be the Deep Core. Somewhere you can't be tracked at all.”
Artur opened his mouth. Closed it. Thought hard. Opened it again. “There is a facility... just one, in the Deep Core. We use it for more... controversial experiments. We can regrow you there if you can get to it without raising suspicion.”
Obi-Wan was watching Chaos at work. The living Force was always chaotic, and perhaps that was the Order's biggest error. He remembered an old story about a king trying to drive back the tide, but the ocean had its way, washing over the king and his castles of sand.
The Order was once that castle, the Council the king and Palpatine the wave. Now, the Empire was that castle, Palpatine the king, and The Dynasty was the ocean that would wash over the galaxy.
Obi-Wan listened carefully as they planned out details of his ‘sightings’ and ‘suspicious movements.’
Anakin idly noted that Piett and Veers would have a cat. Ozzel might stroke out again with any luck. He himself was all in. Operation: Tidal Force was underway.
Speaking of. “Artur, can you do something about Ozzel while I’m gone? Pretty sure he's a rebel plant.”
“Silent removal, sir?”
“That's preferable.”
“You got it, sir. I'll make some calls.”
Yana looked around. “How are we getting out of here?”
Artur shrugged. “Wait for the pain meds to wear off?”
“I think I might be in surgery, that's why I've been under for so long.”
“You're not. You're just doped up on painkillers and sedatives to let the bacta have maximum effect.”
“I’m on my way to Coruscant right now”, Obi-Wan chimed in. “Is Byss close to where Anakin’s going?”
Yana had never even heard of the place before. Artur had. “Not really, but it’s the closest planet to jump from. Still a four-day trip in hyperspace though.”
Obi-Wan nodded, looking at Yana. Why did she look familiar? He suddenly realized who she was. “You’re Cadet Yeet.”
Yana closed her eyes and swore like the sailor she was. Her Royal days really were coming back to haunt her. Anakin was confused. “Who?”
“Don’t ask, sir.”
Anakin made a note to look up ‘Cadet Yeet’ once they were done. If even Obi-Wan knew about it from the ass end of Tatooine, it was something worth looking into.
Yana felt the pain coming back. “I’m waking up soon. Everyone agree on the plan?” Nods all around. “Great. We’ll see you both soon.”
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Recovery Room, The Levinbolt, Task Force Spearhead
She woke up fully if slowly, her back from shoulders to waist pounding like a rotten tooth. Those were some strange, strange dreams. The graft was a thin pink line. TaggeCo medical tech really was the best in the galaxy.
Artur was stirring from her right side. She hugged his head and gently ran a hand through his hair out of habit. He looked up at her. Blinked the sleep out of his eyes. “You had the same dream I had, right?”
“Lord Vader and the strange old man in the starlight world?”
“Yeah.”
They fell into a long-lost habit, Yana tucking herself into his chest while he propped himself up into a sitting position. “We’re really gonna stage a coup, huh?”
“Eventually, yeah. My family’s been planning this since Order 66.”
There was so much more Yana wanted to ask, but Yissa was waking up next to her. Artur gently pushed himself away and off the bed before she could see her wyf cuddling her ex. He knew how much loyalty meant to her. Wouldn’t help her cheat, not even with a cuddle.
Artur stumbled slightly as he went to the door. It was locked, programmed shut. “Override code: Tenno-Zero-Two.”
It refused to open. There was a note on the wall next to it. “I’m taking over temporarily. Get your shits together and sort yourselves out. This has gone on long enough – Lapin.”
That was the Voice of Domina speaking. The ‘or else’ was unspoken, and it didn’t take a genius to figure out that Lapin meant the problems between him and Yissa. Speaking of, she was glaring a hole into the back of his head.
Oh, as they say, shit.
#star wars#thrawn#grand admiral thrawn#star wars rebels#sw fanfic#pyrondi#star wars empire#hammerly#karyn faro#artur tagge#domina tagge#lapin tagge#cassio tagge#maximilian veers#general veers#anakin skywalker#obi wan kenobi#darth vader#palpatine#world between worlds#so completely inspired by @contentment of cats
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jaskier, my baby boy...
#the witcher#jaskier#the witcher jaskier#julian alfred pankratz#literally why all his outfits so funky#lanky tall bottom confirmed
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Hide & Seek C.A
CalFreezy was in-fucking-sane. It was no longer a rumour as far as Y/N was concerned it was fact. You could ask anybody those three simple words and they’d most likely agree even if they’d never spent more than five minutes with him. Yet again Y/N found herself somehow roped into filming a video with the lanky idiot she called her boyfriend. At least this time there were six other victims of her boyfriend's insanity.
“Where are you going to hide?” Harry whispered leaning towards the y/h/c girl. Harry had a habit of clinging to someone whilst playing hide and seek, because of this and the fact he really wasn’t great at staying quiet he was often one of the first to get caught. “Bugger of Boggo I’m not telling you!” Y/N hissed, flickering her y/e/c orbs over the gopro in her hand. Cal had explained the video idea weeks ago after a meeting with Sam and Y/N had used that to her advantage. She’d already seen the building's layout and was sure she’d found the perfect hiding spot and she wasn’t going to let Harry of all people steal this pretty much confirmed win. “Ah Y/N/N come on… Help a roomie out?” Harry begged, jutting out his bottom lip and attempting what Y/N suspected to be puppy dog eyes. “Harry no” the y/s/c girl groaned moving away from her friend.
“I’d just like to clarify that I don't know why I'm here…. I have a feeling Cal just wants to get me in a dark corner.” the female YouTuber accused loudly, pointing a finger in her boyfriend's direction. Part of that was true, the y/h/c young woman was still a little confused why Cal invited her; he already had Harry, Theo, Gib, even Arthur and more. Perhaps the man was trying to get out of planning date night, it wouldn’t be the first time he’d tried to get content and get lucky at the same time. Yet again Y/N was glad Cal had rented the venue so members of the public didn’t think her accusation was anywhere near serious. Turning to face his girlfriend of three years Cal frowned slightly “You think i’d do that to you?” the brown haired man asked in faux innocence. His eyes gave him anyway, they always did especially when it came to Y/N. Nine times out of ten if the tall YouTuber was ever up to something his eyes would always betray his mischief. “Honestly Freezy I thought you had more class then to try to touch me up in a trampoline park.” Y/N argued, shooting a toothy grin towards the man.
“I have class” Cal retaliated ignoring the groan from Harry. The poor Guernsey native was used to the couple's odd behaviour but sometimes he really did consider moving out. “I’ll wait until we get to the car park.” Cal mumbled loudly with a shrug. “That’s it Gib I'm staying with you tonight!” Harry yelled, his face pale as he frantically moved further away from the girl he’d usually call his friend, almost falling into the foam pit in the process. “Don’t be such a baby Harold… besides how you're going to get through all those Sidemen condoms… not like you're getting much action.” Y/N exclaimed mockingly, enjoying the look of pure terror that flooded her flatmates face.
“And on that note… to decide who’s going to be the seeker for the first round we’re going to play a little game…. Last one… in the foam pit is it!” Cal said, throwing himself in the pit of cubed foam that quite frankly stank of feet.
“I just hope you know Cal even though I love you… You're going down!” Y/N teased from her spot across the pit, her competitive side already showing.
Set during this video
#gothicwidow#imagines#au imagines#x reader#youtube imagines#youtuber imagines#youtuber x reader#calfreezy imagines#calfreezy x reader#callum airey imagines#callum airey x reader#harry lewis imagines#harry lewis x reader#harry lewis x platonic reader
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Good Soldiers
Crosshair x gender neutral reader (no y/n)
Rating: SFW
Word count: lots
Warnings: weapons, mention of war, mention of amputation
Summary: You are a disabled mechanic and when you meet the Bad Batch you seem to fit right in. Crosshair takes a particular liking to you.
A/N: Soooo this has been in my mind for a while. This is an entirely SFW, fluffy friendship oneshot because our man Crosshair deserves a fucking break. Enjoy!
Good Soldiers
With each step an annoying sharp pain shot up your right leg. It hadn't always been this bad - in fact, it had been pretty manageable until recently.
You had been walking with a cane since the day you were able to stand up on your two legs by yourself, so you were used to it. Usually the pain was barely even noticeable, but it was nice to have a "third leg" to lean on when you had to.
Chronic pain and the resulting fatigue sure weren't any fun.
Working for the Republic made your life interesting and being a mechanic was a job that didn't require you to walk too far anyways. Besides, the accommodations were nice and the pay was outstanding.
Your preferred field of work was repairing and upgrading the Grand Army's tanks. There was just something utterly fascinating about tanks. But a while ago you got called to a rather special kind of job.
The Republic sent you and your team to Kamino, where the cloning facilities were located, and your job was to fix a modified Omicron-class attack shuttle called Havoc Marauder. Modified ships were always a tricky job, but your team would surely be able to handle it. These were the kinds of people that designed new artillery for fun, after all.
So you landed on Kamino and the shuttle was already there. It couldn't have been there long, though, because the crew was just getting off.
After inspecting the Havoc Marauder and getting all set up, a Kaminoan lady showed your team their temporary bunks. You chose to stay behind and take a closer look at the modified shuttle. It was quite an interesting model, not many of those had crossed your path in your years of engineering.
Leaning on your cane for stability you looked at busted valves showing under the exterior hull. Likely damaged by heavy enemy artillery.
You crouched down and crawled underneath the ship to take another look at the landing gear.
Just a moment later, you heard footsteps approaching and a pair of black armored boots came into your field of vision.
"Who is there?", a nasal voice asked.
"I'm the head mechanic and you are?", you answered from under the ship.
"CT-9904.", the clone responded.
"You got a name, sir?", you inquired without even looking.
"The name's Crosshair.", the clone finally answered. His voice was calm, but had a snarky undertone. "I heard you are the leading expert on modifications in weaponry. I hope you know what you're doing with this ship.", he continued and it sounded as if he was testing you, but you tried to pay it no mind.
"I am and I do.", you confirmed.
Scooting out from under the ship you shot him a look, then wiped your hands on your overalls out of habit and grabbed your cane to stand up.
Crosshair eyeballed you from top to bottom. His gaze stuck to your cane a little longer than necessary.
So you eyed him up as well. He was tall and lanky, the dark armor making him look skinnier than the other clones you knew. Strangely enough, his hair was white, his eyes the same dark brown as his brothers', but his gaze seemed to pierce your soul.
"What do you want, Crosshair?", you asked him. You surprised yourself when you said his name with a bit more attitude than intended.
"I forgot something on board.", he said and squinted at you. His response irritated you. "Then go ahead and get it."
You began to walk away and felt the clone's eyes burn into the back of your skull.
Over the next two days, you could feel Crosshair's unusually intense stare on you almost all the time, but wherever you looked you couldn't seem to find him. It annoyed you, or at least you thought that what you felt was annoyance.
On the last evening of your stay, you were once again checking up on the ship in the hangar after hours. All of your team's tools and belongings had already been loaded into crates and ready to be picked up the next morning.
Repairing the Havoc Marauder had been quite the quest, as it had been illegally modified before; most likely by the crew themselves.
After checking everything, you sat down on one of the crates for a short break. Your leg was acting up a bit, since you'd been under pressure for the last few days and had to walk more than usual.
You heard something drop to the ground behind you and flinched. Looking over your shoulder, you saw Crosshair slowly approach you with a box in his hands and exhaled with relief.
"Don't scare me like that!", you grumbled and furrowed your brows. He didn't seem to care.
"Nice work on the ship.", he complimented you.
"Thanks. Told you we could handle it.", you responded and shifted your right knee into a more comfortable position. "So you were watching...", you muttered to yourself.
"What's with your leg?", Crosshair asked bluntly. You brushed it off. No need to tell this strange clone about your entire life.
"Oh, that... Chronic pain."
For a moment neither of you spoke, but you grew curious.
"What's with the box?", you asked the clone, gesturing towards it with your cane.
"I have a request.", Crosshair stated and opened the box to reveal a sniper rifle and your eyes widened.
"Is that...a 773 Firepuncher?", you asked in complete awe.
"Yes. And I want you to modify it."
.
The moment Crosshair trusted you with his holy grail, his rifle, a bond between you two was formed.
As per his request you modified it and delivered it back to Kamino yourself.
The Bad Batch and you grew closer, but nothing was like the bond Crosshair and you shared. You had a great time talking about weaponry and different strategies with him and you felt like he was the first friend you made in a while that didn't try to pity you at some point because you were disabled.
All of the Bad Batch members were different from their brothers, they all had mutations and enhancements, so your friendship felt so natural.
.
The war continued and maintaining contact became difficult.
The separatists were becoming desperate in their actions and more brutal in their methods of warfare. Eventually, you had to say goodbye to your friends as they were going on a risky mission the next day.
Hunter couldn't tell you when they would be back, but you reassured them all that you'd be on Coruscant, waiting for them. As Tech, Wrecker, Hunter and Echo boarded the Havoc Marauder, Crosshair stayed behind. For a moment you looked at your friend in his imposing armor, helmet wedged under his right arm.
"Hey", he said and grasped your hand.
"Hey?", you echoed him and raised an eyebrow.
"Promise me you'll take care of yourself.", Crosshair said with a stern look on his face.
"I'll take care of myself when the war is over...or when my leg decides to stop being like that.", you replied with a hint of sarcasm.
"Sure.", he said and rolled his eyes.
Finally, Crosshair stepped closer and pulled you into a one-armed embrace.
"Don't worry. We'll come back. We always do."
.
Months passed and there was no news of the Bad Batch.
The day he came back, Crosshair immediately noticed something different about you. At first he couldn't pinpoint it, but he noticed that your weight was evenly distributed between both of your legs now. Your cane was still leaning against the wall beside you, as you wiped grease off of your hands with a rag.
"Hello", he greeted you in his usual, too-calm tone and your eyes lit up as you registered his voice.
"Crosshair! You're back!", you exclaimed and dropped the greasy rag. Then you cautiously took a look around, only to see the last two mechanics that had been on shift with you leaving the hall. A grin spread across your face and you opened your arms to hug him.
"You miss me? How touching.", he mumbled into the embrace and the ghost of a smile tugged on the corner of his mouth. You rolled your eyes in response.
"How's the leg doing?", Crosshair asked and gestured towards your right leg with one of his toothpicks before sticking said toothpick in his mouth.
A beam of happiness crossed your face, delighted that he'd noticed. Of course he had - but still.
You cleared your throat before answering him. "Better than ever! The pain is almost completely gone, but-"
"But...?", he interrupted you.
"So is the leg.", you finished your sentence with an awkward shrug.
He watched as you sat down on an empty ammo crate and rolled up the leg of your overalls. Underneath was a sleek metal prosthetic.
Crosshair set his helmet and rifle aside and knelt down to take a closer look at the prosthetic. His fingers gently caressed the blank metal from the kneecap to the ankle. When he looked back up at you, you smiled.
"When?", was all he asked.
"About one and a half months ago. I got back to work three weeks ago.", you replied truthfully. "It was the best decision I ever made."
"I was gone for so long.", Crosshair whispered and let his head hang.
You stood up and put your hands on his shoulders. He was tall, but you could reach his shoulders comfortably. You looked into each other's eyes - your bright ones with the dark circles underneath meeting the clone's dark, tired eyes for a moment way longer than it probably should have been.
"Yes, you've been gone way too long for my liking. But you know how it is, Cross... Good soldiers follow orders."
____________________________________________________________
This fanfiction is property of @enbyonmandalore (Tumblr). I do not own any of the characters associated with the Star Wars franchise. Do not repost/crosspost on other accounts or websites, edit, translate or otherwise change this piece of writing.
#crosshair x reader#crosshair x you#crosshair#the bad batch#tbb#star wars#star wars the bad batch#the bad batch crosshair#crosshair x gender neutral reader#disabled reader#gn reader#gender neutral reader#star wars fanfiction#the bad batch fanfiction#fanfiction#my writing#sfw#sfw fanfiction#fluff#friendship fanfiction#enbyonmandalore good soldiers
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Oh! A combo of 8 and 9!
Hunted down and "til death do we part", huh?
I tried, but I eh, I have mixed feelings on this one ^^" it's meant to kinda be like a continuation of sorts for this fic that I wrote a while ago. "Til death do we part" is more of an implied thing, and I hope that's alright!
"Come on out, Honey... It's ok, I promise. If you come out now, then your punishment for running won't be as bad."
You pressed a hand over your mouth, trying to remain as quiet as possible while you hid behind a large tree. Being as careful as you could, you peeked around it's trunk, watching the lanky skeleton as he continued to search for you. Clad in nothing more than a pair of shorts, a tank top, and his oversized orange hoodie, you curled in on yourself, trying your best to preserve your body heat. It'd been a cold night, and it wasn't long after you'd fled from the cabin that it began to rain. You had no idea where you were and everything looked the same, but you were determined to escape and make it back home. You had to tell everyone that you were ok... While you had no idea how long you'd been gone, you had a feeling that your friends and family were missing you dearly.
A twig snapped, bringing you back to the present moment. You peeked around the tree at him again, taking note of where he was. Papyrus was much too close for comfort, and you glanced around, squinting your eyes as you tried to see in the gradually decreasing light. Carefully crouching down, you felt around the ground for a moment before your hands closed around a rock. If you threw it far enough away, maybe he'd go toward the noise and give you enough time to make a run for it. You knew he was incredibly smart and that the chances of it working were slim, but you needed to try anyway.
Peeking at him again, you waited for him to turn his back to you before throwing the rock as hard as you could. Papyrus' body jerked in surprise as the rock landed in some thick brush, before he relaxed again and cooed, "Awe, sweetheart... Won't you please come out? I know you're scared, but things will be ok, just you wait and see." As he began to stalk toward the brush where the rock had landed, you sprang into action, practically throwing yourself away from the tree and bolting in a random direction. Papyrus wasn't the least bit surprised as you ran from him again, and he sighed, slipping his phone out of his pocket. He unlocked the device and typed out a quick message before pressing send and pocketing it again.
Soon enough, you'd have bigger problems than him to worry about.
As you darted through the trees, you saw a road in the distance, and you nearly let out a relieved sob. Your feet ached and throbbed, and you were fairly sure you'd stepped on something and cut one of them, but you pressed on. When you finally approached the road, you nearly collapsed, your lungs burning as you desperately sucked in breath after breath. Your legs shook, and you were freezing, despite all the running you'd done. The rain had almost soaked all the way through the hoodie you'd stolen from Papyrus, and it was rapidly losing its ability to retain heat. You looked around, hoping beyond hope that you'd see a nearby town, or maybe even someone who was out for a drive.
While there weren't any buildings or cars in sight, you noticed a familiar jogging suit, and your eyes watered up as you took in the person who was wearing it. Feeling like you'd been saved, you finally let out a sob and ran toward the person, calling out to them and hoping they'd notice you. Registering your voice, they paused, turning to look at you. Breaking down into a fit of loud, messy sobbing, you threw your arms around them, "I'm so happy to see you, oh my god! What are you doing out here? Where are we? We need to leave, we need to leave now, please...!" Your unexpected savior instinctively wrapped his arms around you, letting out a deep breath in shock, "Y/N? IS THAT REALLY YOU?... WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?! I'VE BEEN SO WORRIED... IS PAPYRUS WITH YOU? I HAVEN'T SEEN OR HEARD FROM HIM IN A WHILE EITHER, AND I HAVE NO IDEA WHERE HE COULD BE!"
At hearing the elder skeleton brother's name, you whined and stole a quick glance around, making sure that he hadn't followed you. Upon finding that he was nowhere in sight, you shook your head, clinging to Sans, "No, I don't know where he is. You have to get me out of here though, please! It might be hard to believe, but your brother kidnapped me, and he's been keeping me in this cabin against my will. I need to get away from here before he finds me!" Sans' brow bones furrowed, "PAPY KIDNAPPED YOU? WHY ON EARTH WOULD HE DO SUCH A THING?!" You cried, your knuckles white as you continued clinging to him, "I dunno! He thinks we're gonna be a family or something. It doesn't matter though, please just help me get away from here!"
Sans nodded, gently patting your back, "OK, OK, I WILL. CAN YOU WALK ALRIGHT? I WOULD BE HAPPY TO CARRY YOU IF NEED BE." You shrugged, drawing in a deep, shaky breath, "I think I cut one of my feet on something when I was running, and I can't feel my legs." The skeleton made a sound in acknowledgment, carefully hoisting you up into his arms, "THAT'S OK, HUMAN... THERE WE GO. NICE AND EASY... WILL YOU BE COMFORTABLE LIKE THIS?" You nodded, wrapping your arms around him and making a weak sound in confirmation, "I'll be fine, just please get me out of here, Sans." He nodded again, "WILL DO. I'M GOING TO USE A SHORTCUT, SO YOU MAY WANT TO CLOSE YOUR EYES FOR A BIT."
You obliged, your bottom lip quivering as your eyes fluttered shut. You felt the world around you shifting, and for a very brief moment, it was as if you existed in zero gravity. Once Sans had reached his location of choice and you felt things settle around you, you carefully cracked open an eye to peek at the new surroundings. As he began to walk, you opened your eyes, your brows becoming furrowed, "Sans?... Where are we?" The skeleton stole a quick glance at you and smiled warmly, "WE'RE HOME, Y/N! DON'T YOU RECOGNIZE IT?" You looked around for a moment, and as everything began to look familiar, your eyes watered up again and you began to panic, "This isn't my home! PLEASE, I'm begging you, Sans, please help me get out of here! I need to get as far away as possible!"
A floorboard creaked and your attention snapped to an open doorway, where a tall, lanky figure waited for you. As his gaze bore into you, he smiled sweetly, "Angel, c'mon... This is your home now, and you just don't realize yet that this is the safest place for you. Sans even agrees with me on that one, too." You looked up at Sans with wide eyes, "Sans, you KNEW about this?!" The skeleton in question hummed, "THAT WOULD BE CORRECT, MY DARLING HUMAN." The nickname caught you off guard, and you stared at him in horror as he stopped walking and shifted his full attention to you. As his eye lights locked onto your terrified face, you continued to stare, your blood running cold as they shifted into large hearts and he purred, "NOTHING HAS TO CHANGE, YOU KNOW... IT CAN BE JUST THE THREE OF US, THE WAY IT USED TO BE. WE'RE ONLY DOING THIS TO KEEP YOU SAFE, LOVE. YOU KNOW THAT, RIGHT?" You began to thrash in his hold, tears dripping down your face as you screamed. Papyrus moved closer to you and Sans, chuckling to himself, "See what I mean, bro? They make the cutest noises." Sans grinned, almost appearing genuinely lovestruck, "THAT THEY DO, PAPS... I CAN'T WAIT TO HEAR WHAT OTHER SOUNDS THEY MAKE." Sans' grip on you tightened until you could no longer move, and Papyrus reached out, delicately touching your face, "Well since you're here now, we can go find out." You frantically shook your head and began to protest, and Sans laughed softly, choosing to ignore you, "FOR ONCE, I CAN FINALLY SAY THAT THAT'S A GREAT IDEA."
Papyrus made a sound in agreement, his own eye lights shifting into hearts as he leaned down and pressed a kiss to your forehead. His teeth lingered for a moment and you shivered as he mumbled against your skin, "I'm glad... The sooner we start, the better~"
#saidebanks#asks#writing#yandere#underswap papyrus#swap papyrus#stretch papyrus#underswap sans#swap sans#blueberry sans#yanberry
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Secrets of the Darkened Seas
🧜🏻♀️ Hello! Welcome to chapter one! This has been a long time coming and I apologize for the wait. Please give a follow to my co-author and best friend Luna ( @ladynightmare913 ) because this story would not be where it’s at without her help!
This chapter features one of my own ocs, and I really hope you like him! As always, a reminder that there is some lore included within this, however it will be explained over time so no worries. There’s no mention of lore for right now.
The Included lore on different types of merfolk will be taken from the book “The Secret World of Mermaids” by Francine Rose. I will not take credit for it’s writing. It’s a childhood book of mine that I adore dearly and sincerely think you should all check out!
Anyways, that’s about it. I hope you enjoy! 🧜🏻♀️
.
Chapter 1: The Tail of Fates
The gulls glided across the scorching sky, the sun beating down on the portmen docking the ships that traveled across the sea. The merry drunken men who stumbled their way out of the taverns filled with jolly music made their way to the docks. Wincing at the harsh rays of sunlight, the sweltering heat and humidity offers no reprieve for the men who indulged in the advantages of liquid courage to disregard their tasks. Merchants bring in goods from the islands that seemed worlds away to a mere boy at the age of fourteen.
The boy had medium-length tawny brown hair, tanned skin from days working out in the sun, and very bright amber-colored eyes which seemed to capture the same essence of the crystalized equivalents of the color. Dressed in a rather modest attire appropriate for his status - consisting of a white long-sleeved shirt, the sleeves were rolled up due to the heat, light brown slacks, and dark brown boots. Around his waist was a light blue scarf, supposedly what he had been found swaddled in when he was just a babe. He could never find the strength to part with it. The guilt overpowered him.
“The beauties of the islands lads, best three days of me life mate.”
“Three days of only looking at the dames.” The sailor snorts a retort as he leans against a pillar on the dock. “They probably ran off in the other direction just at the mere sight of your pathetic self.”
The group of three jolly sailors laughed in merriment as the sailor who was sharing his tale shoved the other two in embarrassment.
The boy had been sweeping the dock nearby the sailors, rolling his eyes at the stories. It was always the same. Seamen making port and bedding the beauties from the mysterious island that he himself has never traversed. Internally, he began counting the seconds till one of the sailors again made mentions of the maidens of the sea, and as always- it took only a count of ten.
“I wager the beauties on that port can’t hold a candle to their maidens of the sea.” A sailor with three scars slashed across his face grinned.
“Oh not this, again,” The first sailor, with a fancy for the beauties, with tattered clothes and blonde hair groaned. “Bloody hell mate, you say that cursed tale every time. The women of the sea, with a fishes tail.”
“Aye, and you’d best heed it.” The sailor with three scars eyes his mates in suspicion. “Lest you never return to land, drowned like a dog and fed to the fishes.”
“No one has seen those monsters for centuries mate. Let it go. It’s nothing but stories to scare sailors, nothing more.”
“No!” The sailor yells. “I’ve seen them! The war didn’t wipe them out. They were the ones who scarred me face! There ain’t anything like it, to hear the songs of those maidens. You try to pull away, to drown it out with your thoughts, but ya can’t. There is no escape, it invades your minds, pulling you to the sea and into their webbed claws!” He grumbles out as he touches his scarred face tenderly. As if the scars were fresh, open with fresh blood spilling.
“You lads wouldn’t stand a chance, I should be at the bottom of the sea, but these maidens be fickle things, they are.” He looks out to the sea, calm waves kissing the shore. “To see one, changes your fate. To hear one’s song, is your doom.”
The boy paused momentarily as he heard the scarred sailor's warning. His thoughts race across his mind before he returns to the present when he’s called.
“Oi boy!” A man from upon the ship called down, leaning overboard. “Come up here lad! There’s a job I need ye to take care of!”
The boy looked up to the adult man, he couldn’t discern fully from this far away the man’s appearance. The high rays of the sun give the wooden docks a shadow of coverage. He was rather reluctant to leave the cool reprieve, however, it would be worse if he neglected his duties of the port, “Be right there.”
Walking upon the loading dock to the deck of the rather large ship, it was difficult to fight the urge to look around in a strange awe, even though it’s appearance is rather haggard and beaten. Although he has spent many a day upon ships for moments at a time since beginning his work a few years back, there was a certain mystery behind each ship that entered the ports of this bustling town. Each ship held a story behind its experiences. Each cannon battle, the waters of the seven seas it has traversed, the storms it has survived possible destruction, treasures it has held and lead its captain’s to discover.
“Yes sir?” The boy looks up to the bulk of an angry looking man whose face always seemed to have a sneer. Even in his sleep. The bulk of a man was dressed in a shirt that looked two sizes too small, and a tattered grey coat that squeezed the man, fitting his frame with strain as his arms were always pulled back. His pants were faded from black to grey, his boots were old and worn. Smelling like a dead rat. His teeth were ghastly to gaze upon, yellow with brown stains, his breath could probably kill a man. His eyes were a beady black like the sharks that swam in the shallow waters, a bald head with black spots. A pity, he must’ve looked worse as a child. As most children do. He glowers at the scrawny boy before he looks away.
“Go search the taverns for this ships’ Captain. We leave at dusk. Blokes probably drunk beyond hell, feeling up the women.” He shakes his head as he waves the boy off with a mere wave of his hand.
With a nod in confirmation, the boy exited the deck and headed off in search of the tavern so that he may find the Captain of the ship, rather grateful to being away from the rather disgusting first mate. If that bulk of a man looked that haggard, he could only imagine the Captain with a shudder at the thought. In the distance, he could see another ship that seemed to be a practical stark contrast. The masts that were open, were as white as the very clouds that floated in the sky, the wooden haul was a rich brown mahogany, the railings were painted gold like the sun. The sailors looked well-groomed, their clothes neat and fitted to their frames.
The boy searched from tavern to tavern, until finally, he came across the Buccaneers' Oyster. With a sigh of exasperation, he opens the doors and enters the busy tavern hoping that this time he had finally found the correct one. The tavern was dark with dim lighting from the candles that were scattered about the establishment. The windows were the only source of natural sunlight that seeped into the tavern that reeked of alcohol and vomit. The sounds of clinking glassware and cheers from sailors echo all around, the soft giggling of women sitting on the laps of the drunkest of seamen. Ignoring the commotion, and his disgust at the reeking smells, he makes his way to the main counter where a man was the barkeep. The wall behind was lined with large kegs and the shelves were lined with clean pints.
“Excuse me. Do you happen to know if Captain Barclay is here?” The boy says, raising his voice over the loud cheering of the sailors in their merriment. The barkeeper doesn’t even spare the boy a glance as he simply points to the back of the tavern where a man was sitting, well more falling off his chair than anything, as he smiled stupidly at a lady.
The captain in question was a tall lanky man with a hooked nose, horrible teeth, a large mole on the side of his neck, tanned skin, and green eyes. His clothes were an absolute mess which could possibly be vomit, or mashed potatoes. The boy was very much hoping for the latter. A white shirt with a red stain, rum possibly, short brown pants, and his shoes seemed to have vanished. Hopefully, the shoes walked away themselves, saving what little dignity they had, and drowned themselves in the sea. The stench dying with them. Or the captain had lost his shoes in a gamble. That seemed more likely.
Taking a deep breath in preparation, he makes his way over to the back of the tavern so that he could finally fetch the man and get out of this place. The man seemed practically worse close up, if that was even possible. “Excuse me? Captain Barclay?” He asks, hoping to gain the drunken Captain’s attention and draw it away from the woman. “I was asked to fetch you by your first mate. And bring you back to your ship.”
The man makes a small noise of acknowledgment as he turns to look at the deck boy. His alcohol glazed eyes look over the small boy before he shrugs him off and turns the lady he had in his lanky finger. “Bugger off boy, the adults are talkin.’” His hand waves him off with the pint of rum that sloshed to the ground in his sluggish gestures. “Now where we?”
“Please sir, let me go. I do not work here. I am merely looking for my fiancé.” A pale soft face young lady pulls her hand to try to free herself from the seaman. Her soft brown curls bouncing as she turns her head to the boy. Her hazel eyes lock eyes with his, her skin pale from her bold green dress. Help me she mouths.
The boy’s eyes widen a small fraction, trying to figure out a way to help the woman out of her predicament. “Captain. I insist.” He repeats, his tone much more firm and without argument.
With a sneer, the lanky captain looked to the boy before he points at the boy with his pint. Standing up, he was two heads taller than the boy. “Listen boy,” he stumbles closer, the pint in his hands dropping what little rum it had to the floor. “I spent six months at sea, I ain’t about to let a lass like this slip past me, now runoff. Before I beat you.”
“You chose quite a profession that allows you to be at sea for months at a time, Captain.” He says, looking up at the man, “Guess there’s sacrifices to make now isn’t there? And if you actually listened with your ears rather than another part of your body, then you would understand that this lady has no interest in you. And is taken.”
“Why you little rat!” The man grips the boy's collar, forgetting the pint, dropping it to the floor, letting the lady go as he raises his fist. “I’m going to enjoy this.”
“You’re really going to punch a child mate? How low can you get?” A voice interjects as a rather handsome young man walks over. The tall young man, around the age of twenty-one, had short tousled red-brown hair, fetching blue eyes, and light tanned skin. Dressed in a black long-sleeved shirt with a light brown vest on top, a burgundy red long buckled coat with bright red accents, dark brown slacks, and black boots. On his left hip, a wide looking sword was sheathed in solid black and red with gold accents.
“Who the bloody hell are you? Bugger off!”
“No one of consequence. Just let him go.”
“Why the hell would I do that, a good beaten ought to teach about being respectful to his elders!” He looks away and aims for a punch.
The man scoffs, “As if you’re worth giving respect. The boy was just doing his job.” He steps forward and grabs the man’s fist in a hard grip as it nears the boy. “If you want respect, then earn it.”
“Why you!” The man drops the boy and turns to punch the man who stopped him from giving the boy a lesson.
The man can’t help but roll his eyes with a sigh, “Oh for Heaven’s sake.” The drunk captain isn’t even able to reach him before he retaliates with a punch of his own, knocking the captain out cold. A satisfied grin falls upon his lips. The lady gasps before she quickly runs off after giving the man a quick thank you. The man turns to the boy.
“Are you alright there boy?”
The boy nods, looking up to the taller man who intervened. Why did he? He cannot help but wonder. Most people would've just ignored the ruckus and not bat an eye. “I’m alright. Thank you, Mr…”
“Sandoval, Quinn Sandoval. But please just call me Quinn.” He smiles down at the boy. “What’s your name? I can’t keep calling you boy now can I?”
“No, I suppose not.” He replies with a light chuckle, “My name’s Remus. Remus Lupin. It’s nice to meet you, Quinn.”
“Well, Remus, it’s nice to meet you as well.” He looks down to the unconscious captain with an exasperated sigh, lightly kicking his leg. “Best take him back to his ship eh?” He looks at Remus with mirth in his eyes before he walks over to the captain’s head, grabbing ahold one of his arms before pulling him up. “Grab his other arm will you? Let’s take him back to his ship. Although I doubt he will be useful.”
Remus nods quickly before he walks over to the other side, grabbing ahold of the other arm to help hold him up. “Doubt he will as well, to be frank.”
The pair carry the dunkard back to the docks without much strain. Aside from the occasional bump to the head. They walk up to the ship where the first mate sees them approaching, walking down the loading dock.
“What the bloody hell happened to him? I have been waitin’ here for hours boy!” The bulky man marches to Remus. His face red in anger.
“Well rather difficult to track down a man with this many taverns in this town isn’t it?” Quinn says in defense, looking down to the unconscious man before continuing an explanation, “Your Captain got himself plastered and in a tavern fight. I had to help the boy carry him back.” He glances at Remus and gives him a conspiratorial wink.
The first mate begrudgingly orders two men from the crew to take the captain onboard. He looks to the boy with a scowl. “What are ye waitin’ for, get back to work!”
Quinn frowns lightly as he looks to Remus. “You work the docks?”
Remus fights the urge to flinch at the hard scowl under the first mate’s gaze. He looks to Quinn at his question before nodding. “I do.”
Quinn can only nod once slowly in understanding. He looks to the first mate, then to the docks, then to Remus before he smiles. “Well not anymore.”
Remus’ eyes widen as he looks quizzically at the man he had just met. “What?”
“What the bloody hell are you talkin’ about.” The first mate growls out.
Quinn ignores the man as he looks over the young boy. “Tell me honestly Remus, would you rather work the docks for men like him, or come with me to my captain’s ship and actually live your life without regrets.” He looks back to the docks and the wrecked ship the bulky man sent the drunk captain to dock. “I know what I’d chose. And it wouldn’t be a life with little to no rewards.”
Remus looks out to the sea beyond the docked ships, watching the sun’s rays reflect upon the blue waking waters as he contemplates. This man hardly knows him, practically just met him about half an hour ago, and yet he’s offering him a chance to sail? A chance to leave this place? How can someone be this trusting?
He looks back to Quinn with a skeptical look, “Why are you offering me this? You hardly know me. I could be a thief for all you know.”
Quinn smiles. “Because I like you, you have wit and you clearly are a hard worker. I have a good feeling about you.” He looks to the sea. “So, what will it be, Remus? A life of servitude, or a life of freedom?” He looks back to Remus.
Remus cannot help but smile in return, “Freedom.”
#wolstar#remus lupin#sirius black#remus x sirius#quinn sandoval#asunshinepuff oc#pirate captian#mermaid#pirate and mermaid au#alcohol cw#cw drinking#cw drunken#secrets of the darkened seas
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Pirate and Swapberry's Adventure
“So it’s genuine?” Pirate Chara asked.
“Completely legit.” Dance Chara answered. “Now of course I doubted it when you gave it to me, but after having my own contacts check its authenticity I can assure you it’s the real thing.”
“Great, we should be able to find it, snag it, and be back by the end of the week to sell it.” The man said putting the map into their coat ready to take off immediately.
“Oh I'm not coming with you.”
“Wait what?” Pirate was shocked to hear that. “I need another person to help sail the ship, and the ruins themselves will no doubt have puzzles that could use a second pair of eyes.”
“Look around us, we’re in a tavern of adventurers for hire.” Dance said gesturing to the many seated pirates, rogues, and mercenaries. “Oh and I’ll be taking my twenty percent off the top, so don’t go promising any big rewards to your volunteers. And don’t make me come after you, two weeks and then I better see you again.”
Pirate Chara waved off their partner and then returned inside the tavern to find a crew for this exploration. “Which of these fools should I take with me.” They pondered looking over the lot.
Pirate climbed upon a stool and decided to address the entire tavern for any takers, figuring at least one would show interest. “Greetings fellow adventurers, I’ve come to gather a crew for a journey that’ll make us all richer than our wildest dreams. Some of you may have heard of me already, the demon who comes when you call their name.”
“Aren’t you the guy who got mutinied and thrown into the ocean by their crew?” A voice in the crowd.
“So you have heard of me.” Pirate responded with a smile. “And yes, a slight misunderstanding that led to a poor situation. Nevertheless that was on the part of the crew, and I’ve never held it against them.”
“Didn’t you promise to find an ancient treasure filled city and came back empty handed?” Another voice added.
“Another misunderstanding.” Chara claimed. “I did in fact find the city, I just wasn’t able to bring back any treasure from it since the inhabitants were still rather lively and wouldn’t part with it. But it should still prove that when I make a bold claim like I’m about to that faith should be withstanding.”
“In my hand I hold a map to yet another fortune, one this time not owned by any kingdom of monsters and is ours for the taking.” Pirate began their speech. “I need only a single man to join me on this journey to travel out to a small island where an ancient lord of the sea stored a portion of their loot away from the rest to assure its complete secrecy should the main haul ever be plundered as it was.”
“Take me!” A tall lanky fellow yelled excited.
Pirate eyed the excited person but continued anyway. “Just one man to help sail the boat and be my first mate through the trapped filled dungeon of treasure.”
“Pick me! Pick me! Over here!” The person continued to yell out.
“If anyone here should be brave enough to join me-”
“I’ll do it! I’m brave!”
“Anyone at all? Someone’s lame uncle that needs one last adventure before retirement or a child y’all never want to see again?” Pirate tried digging the bottom of the barrel to avoid bringing a certain someone.
“I’m here!”
Pirate Chara sighed and looked the excited gentleman in the eyes. “I suppose you do know how to tie a knot for a sail?”
“Oh definitely Mr Captain Sir, I’ve been practicing all my sailing skills ever since I first wanted to join your crew!” Swapberry said excited to finally have the chance.
“Just meet me at the dock in fifteen minutes, may as well get sailing before I decide the treasure ain’t worth it.” Pirate told Ichi, wondering if any treasure would be worth being with this excitable airhead for two weeks alone at sea.
At the dock Pirate Chara had raised anchor and was about to set the sails so the wind would catch and pull the ship out of harbor. Swapberry showed up at the very last minute to Pirate Chara’s both dismay and relief.
“You ready?” Pirate asked as the fellow sailor boarded the ship.
“Aye aye captain.” Ichi answered. “So kind of a small ship you have here.”
“Yep.”
“One bed?”
“No beds, and even if there were a bed one of us needs to be awake at all times to make sure the ship stays on course.” Pirate took the liberty to explain there’d be no fooling around this voyage. “Can’t help it, I’m always cute.”
“Eye of the beholder.” Pirate responded with a vague meaning quote before returning to business. “I’ll take the first shift, you find a corner and make yourself at home. We’ll be sharing this boat for the next week or so.”
For the next few days Pirate Chara learned to enjoy Swapberry’s company, despite that awkward first meeting last year where Ichi had come off like a lost puppy looking to be adopted. The young sailor proved to be a valuable companion. They were clearly faking being a sailor and only knew half of what they claimed, and only half decent at what they did know, but they were a quick learner and picked up the ropes quickly. Ichi also proved a capable chef, the meals weren’t the most presentable, but they tasted alright. And thankfully all the cooking and sailing lessons took up all Ichi’s free time to try and come up with new flirts.
On the fourth day an island came into view and Pirate checked the map to confirm it was their destination. Lover’s Quarrel the island was nicknamed. An odd name for an island, presumably named after some ancient dispute between two lovers long ago.
“Now remember, this island is most likely filled with booby traps to stop anyone from getting to the treasure near the heart of the island.” Pirate Chara explained one last time to Swapberry.
“That’s okay, because neither of us have boobies.” The young man jokingly responded, getting a scowl from their captain. “Sorry.”
“Stay close, keep your eyes peeled, and most importantly don’t touch anything.”
“Aye aye captain.” Ichi saluted before getting out of the ship after Pirate and following their lead.
The trek through the trees was largely uneventful, just some vines Swapberry managed to tangle themselves forcing Pirate Chara to stop and help free them. After reaching the temple the real trouble started.
“This writing is near illegible, but from what I can tell the only way to enter these ruins is as a pair.” Pirate Chara said aloud.
Swapberry gasped. “This is all so sudden, but if you really want-”
“A pair of explorers, not a couple.” PIrate said standing Swapberry on one pressure plate and standing on the other themself to open the hidden entrance. “Now let’s head inside.”
Pirate dodged, ducked, and dipped past many traps and hidden dangers attacking them through their exploration, much more than needed to be avoided if a certain partner of theirs would stop stepping on every pressure plate in the ruins.
“Are you quite finished?” Pirate Chara asked in an unamused tone waiting on Swapberry to finish crossing the hall.
“Yep, and not a single-” Before Swapberry could finish their claim their foot landed on a hidden pressure plate launching poisonous darts into Pirate’s arm. “Ouch, sorry…. Again.”
As discovered many times earlier the darts’ poison had long since expired, but Pirate Chara was no more happier with non-poisonous darts sticking in them than poison tipped ones.
“Let me just-”
“I’ve got it.” Chara said plucking the darts and throwing them to the ground. “Stand here and let me read this inscription.” They said issuing an order to Ichi and then beginning their deciphering of the ancient wording. “At journey’s end only embracing will open the path.” They translated. “Embrace what? Is there a word missing?”
Time wasn’t on Pirate’s side to solve the riddle as walls and ceilings started moving and trapped them both at the locked door with the sound of dangerous things coming their way. Touching the writing must have triggered some kind of time limit for the riddle.
“Okay embrace.” Pirate took a deep breath trying to understand. “Embrace faith? Philosophy? Understanding? This is Lover’s Quarrel island, so the pair must have embraced differences of opinion to stay together, but how do you show an embrace of ideas?”
Swapberry was growing worried watching Pirate struggle to solve the riddle, they wanted to help but all their ideas were usually stupid ones. Even right now all they could think of for embrace was to grab Pirate’s hand and- Wait, that was it, an embrace of understanding. Ichi grabbed Pirate’s hand and held it theirs.
“What are you doing?!” Pirate yelled trying to take back their hand
“Just wait!” Ichi told Pirate, not letting go of their grip on the man’s hand.
Pirate tried yanking their hand from Swapberry’s grip. “Let go! If I don’t solve this we’re going to-” The worried pirate suddenly noticed the sound of death slowed down and stopped. “What happened?”
“We embraced.” Ichi smiled holding up Pirate’s hand in theirs in front of their face to show what the riddle meant.
“The riddle actually meant to embrace…. That’s surprisingly literal for once. Can I have my hand back so we can get the treasure?” Pirate requested.
“Oh of course.” Ichi said letting go of Pirate’s hand.
Pirate gave an appreciative node and entered the treasure room. They gave one last look around for traps before opening up the chest, inside was a note that read “the treasure is the friends we made along the way.”
“Well that sucks.” Ichi responded after hearing Pirate read it aloud.
“Yeah that is a cliche, good thing they left all these heart shaped rubies along with the note.” Pirate smiled, tossing one back towards Ichi.
“We’re rich!”
“Semi rich, rubies aren’t the most valuable, but they’re worth a pretty penny at the market.” Pirate explained. “Load them up and let’s head back.”
“Aye aye captain.” Swapberry saluted and grabbed the loot to carry to the ship after a successful journey, they even got to hold Pirate Chara’s hand.
___________________________________________
My half of an art trade with @channydraws hope you enjoy it.
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Rebecca Chapter 1 Test And Results
Based on Dr. Jekyll's Work becomes a very different Hyde, with an unexpected transgendered results.
The very start of Mr Edward Fletcher’s unwittingly transformative journey, where some bloods had been requested of him....
Note to readers all stories connecting with Midhaven (Mid-haven) are set in 1994. All the characters are purely fictional, and no way portray any real people or institutes of any kind.
MIDHAVEN:
Rebecca
By Maddie Jane Rann
1 Tests and Results
31st March 1994
Edward Fletcher sat anxiously in the empty waiting room of his local surgery for his appointment which was supposedly meant for 10:30am. He himself, was a gaunt and lanky looking 35 year old dressed in a slightly crumpled grey office suit. He had four inch long auburn hair which was styled into a centre parted undercut and also wore thin framed rectangular glasses. Restless with nerves knowing a blood test had been required of him by his new GP, Dr Elliot. He had only met the doctor once before, for some completely unrelated matter since he transferred from Bournemouth and taken over his previous doctor’s practice. Nevertheless, it was something that Edward really could of done without, plus the blood nurse was running late which only put him more on edge. Looking for some form of distraction he glanced to the low coffee table of magazines about three feet ahead of him. He rose slightly out of his chair, the red coloured tie dangled out of his jacket as he leaned forward. Shakily he rummaged through the assortment of ‘Glenda’ fashion magazines until clumsily knocking a couple of issues to the floor. In a panic he picked them up and placed them neatly in a tidy pile on the table before collapsing back into his chair with a sigh of embarrassment.
“You tit.” He uttered
He gave up the clock that was hanging on the far end wall an impatient glance, it was now 10:43.
“It's cutting it a bit fine.” He muttered to himself, he had an important meeting at 11:15 which he must attend the weekly briefing of the Lindenbay shopping district on the Harbour which he was appointed as a senior architect, then he was expected on site thereafter. As this was a fasting test he was just hoping there might have been chance of breakfast before his work begun.
Moments later he caught from the corner of his left eye, an elderly couple being led carefully out of the phlebotomy room and then the nurse as she watched them creep past the reception and out the main entrance. Then she turned and looked down towards him with her hands on hips.
“Edward Fletcher!” She called sternly yet with a playful tone. To him the calling was like the tolling of the iron bell, but the aged female voice was familiar and somewhat soothing to his recollection. He turned nervously to meet his calling only to smile with some relief that it was his Mother’s friend June who was on duty today.
“Oh....um, June, hello.” He greeted standing to his full height of 6ft1.
“April Fools by chance? No? Not today?”
“Hello Eddy, come this way.” The 60-year-old Nurse beckoned him with a smirk and led him into the poky room that housed a singular black leather treatment chair which was bolted to the floor. There was a tall fan blowing in the corner that made June’s blue disposable apron flitter dramatically in its breeze.
“If you could remove your jacket and roll up both sleeves before taking a seat, I do like to have my pick of veins.”
“Oh yes OK.” Edward did as he was bided.
“You seem a little tense Eddie? Anything the matter?” She asked whilst checking over his notes.
“Ah well you know…. It’s a blood test and…..” He began as he sat in the treatment chair gazing around at the four blind walls and quickly objecting.
"There are no windows in here?”
“Yes, you would think us phlebotomists were all vampires or something, you should know by now I don’t bite, just prick a little.” She smiled.
“Ah ha yes, that’s what I’m actually afraid of…...” He added with a nervous laugh.
“Oh, I see….. You fall under Dr. Elliot, lucky you, with your infamously well-known fear of needles and all. I don’t know. He’s always requesting bloods for one thing or another, usually something mundane coupled with genomic testing. Usually, I thought it was something reserved as a premium treatment, never known a doctor to request this as much. Seems to be his style, I guess, prefers the full ins and outs of his patients’ right down to their DNA. Anyhow he keeps me busy.”
“Terrific, lucky me indeed.” Edward squirmed as he tried to get comfortable on the leather seat.
“Liver function…. right.” She started to look for the colour coded phials through the equipment draws.
“I think Dr Elliot had been concerned with my history of drinking.” Edward mentioned shamefully
“Uh huh.” June sighed knowing all too well.
“And how’s that been going?”
“Very well, though I have had a few dips late. But only on occasions.”
June pouted with disbelief.
“Really?”
“Ahh, look, to be honest, it’s this shopping centre development it’s been really getting to me of late.”
“Oh really? You’re doing that now? It looks very exciting what they’ve been planning for the harbour.” Said June.
“Uh huh yeah, well you know when they had to halt construction during the discovery of the 14th century burial pit, it was all over the Midhaven Messenger for weeks on end. Well by the time the archaeologists had finished the architectural firm that had been employed for the project had gone bust leaving our firm to immediately take over. They left so many flaws it was unbelievable, never mind the parts that were left unfinished. A complete and utter mess, to be fair, that shouldn’t have gone as far as planning yet alone construction! You know they left 18 shop spaces, completely blocked off with no access!”
In meantime of Edwards complaining she had found the correct phial and took another look at his notes….
“Ah…. I thought so, bang on style, genomics too, right where did I leave those tubes. OK just sit back Eddy I won’t take long at all. Talk about drinking have you diluted yourself with plenty of water?”
“Oh yes Aunty June……. and have been fasting since 10 past last night.” As he saw it was on the tip of her tongue.
“Very good….. Just for security reasons could you confirm your address and date of birth please? Just so I know it’s you.”
“But you already know….” He stopped with June’s glaring, over the top of her glasses.
“Ohhh…. 15th of the 4th 1958 and 13 A Mitchell Avenue, Midhaven, MD1 JH3.” He sighed.
“Very good Eddy.” She confirmed then gave her hands a singular clap before scooting away from her desk in her wheeled desk chair to Edwards left side.
“Now just relax and I promise I won’t take too much.”
He gulped as the needle of doom was now inevitable, yet knew he was in safe hands. His eyes wondered from his Mum’s old friend preparing his arm for the surgical procedure to staring at the collection of photos stuck to the wall ahead of him. These pictures were an odd assortment of carnival masks and cocker spaniels, he figured it was probably something that either June or another blood nurse had put together for the patients to focus on rather than the blood being taken.
7thof April 1994
A few days later as Dr Elliot came to work he was handed several letters from the front desk that had arrived the day before. His brow rose with intrigue noticing that they all came from the Phlebotomy labs in the city. He thanked the receptionist with a smile of gratitude before taking the envelopes and his briefcase to his office. Without another moment he sat at his desk and was readily opening the envelopes with great enthusiasm. Dr Elliot who was an average looking man in his late middle years with silver hair that swept across his head. He also bore thick black eyebrows that were currently furrowed behind large paned glasses. These letters were indeed the latest round of test blood results that he requested, though he was more interested in his patient’s genomics, seemingly at first to disregard the other. He speedily went through two lots scouring them closely only to not finding what he was looking for. It wasn’t until his third envelope and opening it with a sigh to only expecting the same humdrum when something caught his eye that instantly gave him a chills, something exciting as he ran through the latest sets of numbers. A look of long lost cheer came to his grey middle aged face as he quickly drew a red pen from the desk tidy and roughly circled the odd allele scores that brought him to such frenzy. Once finished he slapped his left hand down on the edge of the desk then opened a draw just underneath, lifting the corners of a couple of folders that concealed a small flat key. He took hold of it before springing out of his chair, and almost skipped to the grey metallic filing cabinet that stood beside the window only 6ft to his left. Pushing the key into the lock of the bottom draw then turned it and pulled the handle. In seconds he was leafing through the murky green coloured folders until he found the one he was searching. Taking away the whole folder he returned to his desk and sat down before spreading out a few pages of his interest, one was another set of genetics like the one he marked. He ran his finger through the results.
“Ha!” He barked and scribbled circles around similar results in the same red pen. He beamed with joy as he held them studying them side by side, his mind now racing with possibilities. This was the opportunity that he and his associate had been waiting for, for quite some time with now just the thought that they might finally reach their goal in the next couple of days, if they planned it right. After a moment of pause for consideration he put down the paper and picked up the handset on the cream coloured desk telephone. He held it to his left ear and keyed in the number. While he waited for his recipient to pick up the phone he took time to find the name of the patient whom the results belonged to.
“Mr Edward Fletcher? What a lucky man you are.”
He smiled heartily when the other end of the line was picked up and proceeded to speak in bright and theatrical manner.
“Ah, good morning my dear May! It’s Elliot here….. Yes!…. Yes!….. I’m quite aware how early it is for you, but if you must be up all night skulking around until the early hours…. My point?” He was taken back by his recipient’s seeming impertinence.
“Now if you give me a little time and patience, I can inform you of some very good news that came by post this morning.” He picked up the results.
“Yes…. it’s some genomes if you care, from one of my patients, they came back from…. Yes, he has all the right faults that I have been looking for, in all the right places for the formula to work. This is it, my dearest May, this is it.” He listened to the receivers reply though by the sinking look on his face it was probably a reply of a dreary lack of enthusiasm.
“All right…. I shall tell you what…. “He breathed rubbing his temple in frustration.
“We shall reconvene this matter when I come off duty…. About half 6…. you say you’ll meet me. Of course, the usual place, the old sail factory, we can set up the equipment at once. Then we can decide how to safely capture our specimen. Until then I’ll let you have your sleep… oh.” May hung up cutting the call abruptly.
“You may even wake up a little less insolent too.” He said to himself glumly and still holding the phone to his ear, in a delayed moment later returned it to the base.
“But that of course would be asking too much of you my dear.” He sighed
Dr Elliot looked at his clock it was 8:30, then hurriedly gathered the test results and associated papers in the folder just before the receptionist knocked on the door.
“Coffee Dr Elliot?” She called.
“That would be lovely Miss Tibbs, please come in.” He replied with a big arm gesture, the young lady entered with a mug of filtered coffee in one hand and a printed A4 sheet of booked appointments in the other which placed on top of his desk next to the folder.
“There you go Doctor, milk and no sugar and your appointments for today.”
“Ahhh….Thank you so kindly.” He said and then began studying the list as she backed out the office. He nodded when he understood the workload ahead and took a sip of his coffee, then picked up his folder and placed it in his desk draw before dutifully calling for his first patient by pressing the button of the intercom device that was sat next to his telephone.
“Mr Utterson to see Dr Elliot, come to room 2 please, I am quite ready to see you now.”
next chapter
https://midhavencryptids.tumblr.com/post/629310030007713792/rebecca-chapter-2-edwards-day
#dr jekyll and mr hyde#jekyll & hide#the strange case of dr. jekyll and mr. hyde#transformation#monster#monster transformation#gendertransformation#gender transformation#male to female transformation#m2f transgender#tgs hyde#tg tf#tg#hyde#m2f transformation#m2f#gothic#gothic horror#modern gothic#urban gothic#body horror#mutation
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📣 okay, some lovely trans ladies have clothing requests! each of these represents details for one person.
1. Sizes: L and XL for shirts; 9-11 pants. These sizes are mostly for length--can go a little smaller if shirts are extra long or if sending shorts. Style: punk femme. Region: Ohio
2. Sizes: S or M in shirts, 35 inch waist, so I’m guessing ~ size 16 or 18. Style: comfortable, good for moving around. Crop tops a plus! Region: Texas
3. Sizes: Tall and lanky. 6ft, 30 inch waist, so about a women’s size M in tops, 10-16 bottoms. Likes flowing/lacy/frilly skirts, still figuring out tops. Cotton candy princess/raven queen! Region: Colorado
4. Sizes: L or XL. 37 inch waist/33 inch inseam, so ~ size 18 or 20. Style: grunge, punk, neutral feminine. Region: North Carolina
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please let me know if you have clothes that match these descriptions and would be willing to ship to the respective region! i encourage y’all once you are connected to confirm sizing and to discuss shipping fees (recipient could pay, or sender, or could be split).
#trans womens clothing donation#is how i will aways tag these#if u want to avoid seeing sizes & measurements
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Flame - Part One
A/N: Here’s a photo of who I picture our main girlie to be :)
“Logan, come on – you're going to get us in trouble!” Your best friend Bridget hissed at you, her hands on her hips as you climbed over the fence. You were straddling the top playfully, glancing down on the other side at a very drunk frat boy.
“Oh, relax.” You shrugged down at Bridget, quickly easing yourself down the tall wood planks. “The cops are at the front of the house, just be quiet and... RUN!”
Bridget let out a giggle as you gripped her hand and took off down the sidewalk that led down the middle of campus. The frat party the two of you had been at had inevitably been busted; like it was nearly every weekend. You had already gotten one citation in your short month on campus and your parents would ring your neck if you got another already.
As the two of you sprinted towards your dorm, you let out a huff hearing a pair of footsteps behind you – really not wanting to turn around to see who was behind you. Bridget did the job for you though, her bright red hair whipping around to see who could possibly be following the two of you. The small smirk on her lips let you know it was nothing to worry about, but the sound of police sirens said otherwise. You let out a small shriek and pushed even harder, sliding into the front door of your dorm at the last minute – the police car turning its lights off and turning the corner.
“Close call.” An unfamiliar voice spoke up next to you, clearly just as out of breath as the rest of you. You lifted your head up to see a brunette boy with a killer jawline leaned over, his hands on his knees, breathing heavily.
“No kidding.” Bridget laughed, sinking down onto the floor and resting her head on her knees. “You’re gonna kill me, Logan.” She shook her head in amusement as you rolled your eyes and leaned your head back against the brick wall.
“You guys live here?” The other boy following you broke his silence, he was much taller than the first – lanky and skinny with dark black hair.
“Yeah - you?” You raised an eyebrow at the two of them – they didn’t seem like they’d be friends.
“Yup.” He nodded back at you, motioning to the guy still crouched down next to him. “That’s Ethan and I’m Kyle.”
“Logan - that’s Bridget.” You nudged your friend on the ground as she giggled shyly. “Are you guys even in that fraternity?”
“I am – he's not.” Ethan spoke up, pushing himself up off the ground to stand next to his friend. “Just joined actually... are you both freshmen?”
“Yea.” Bridget nodded, still sitting on the ground with no intention to move. Her cheeks were bright red and you knew it wasn’t from the running – you had known her for nearly 10 years now and it seemed like every time she even spoke to a guy this happened to her.
“Well - I think we’re gonna head up to our room... nice to meet you guys.” You smiled at the pair and nudged Bridget again, taking off down the hallway to the staircase.
- “What’d you think of Kyle?” Bridget muttered, her voice the only sound in the pitch black room as the two of you tried to sleep.
“Skinny boy?” You questioned her, a small chuckle following. “Seems nice enough; why?”
“He was cute.” She said firmly, knowing you’d pick on her.
“That’s your type now, huh?” You raised an eyebrow even though you knew she couldn’t see it.
“Shut up.” She huffed, turning over in her twin sized bed dramatically. “He was cute.”
-
The next Monday morning of classes was nearly unbearable. It was a rainy day, there was a chill in the air, and all of a sudden you regretted not going to school somewhere warmer. Your black rainboots sloshed around in the puddles as you shuffled to your humanities class; it took everything you had to not turn around and go crawl back in bed. Especially because Bridget didn’t even have class until noon; it wasn’t even 9AM and you felt like someone had placed you in your personal hell.
“Logan?”
You turned your head around to see the pair of boys – Ethan and Kyle – standing at the entrance to your class.
“You’re in this class?” You raised an eyebrow at both of them.
“Yea...” Kyle quipped, confusion in his voice. Isn’t it funny how you can have a class for a month and honestly have no clue who is in it. Truthfully, you had skipped quite a few times and made a habit of sitting in the back of the lecture hall, so it wasn’t completely far-fetched that neither of you had noticed each other.
“Cool.” You shrugged, slipping past them to go sit in your normal seat at the back of the class. As you heard footsteps behind you, you turned around to see the two boys following you. “Oh, so now you’re gonna steal someone else’s assigned seats?”
“Shut up.” Ethan rolled his eyes and blew a fat bubble right in your face. “This isn’t 2nd grade, we can sit wherever we want.”
“Sheesh,” You held up your hands in defense, an amused smirk on your lips as you slid into the uncomfortable chair. Kyle sat next to you, Ethan taking the spot next to him. “Hey, Kyle?”
“Yeah?” The black haired boy had a beanie on today, his skin was pale – probably the exact same color as Bridget’s.
“Can I get your number? Bridget wants it and will never have the balls to ask.” You held your phone out to him with your contacts page open.
“Oh, yeah.” He smiled softly and gripped the phone, typing his information in quickly. “Tell her to text me, I’d like that.”
“Soft.” Ethan scoffed from the other side, making you shake your head and smirk. As much as you wanted to tell him off, you were in complete agreement.
-
“Wait - you TOLD him I wanted to talk to him?!” Bridget shrieked, her face bright red once again.
“It’s not like you were going to do it!” You shouted back at her as you face-planted into your bed.
“Says who?” She shot back, letting out a huff and folding her arms dramatically.
“The last 10 years of knowledge.” You laughed. “It’s okay, Bridget – he said he wanted to talk to you too so TEXT HIM.”
“Ugh - fine!” She groaned, sinking down into her desk chair and slipping out her phone.
Not even ten minutes later, Bridget was calling your name again – her signature small smile on her face letting you know she wanted something.
“Hey, Logannnn?” She smiled, pushing herself up off the chair and moving over to your bed.
“What is it?” You deadpanned, knowing she was going to ask you to do something.
“Kyle asked if I want to come up to Ethan’s room to hang out... but I don’t really want to go alone?” Her bottom lip was tucked between her teeth and as badly as you wanted to veg and watch Netflix, you knew your best friend was useless with men and needed you.
“Fine.” You sighed, rolling out of bed and slipping your plaid pajama pants on – the make-shift crop top you wore exposed your lower abdomen.
-
A few steps up some stairs and a knock of your fist later, you were being greeted by Kyle. As the two of you stepped inside you noticed a third boy in the room, he had his headphones in and his back turned away from everyone. He was flipping through a textbook quickly, the glasses on his head were pushed up onto his head – clearly not being utilized.
“Is this not your room?” You questioned, wrinkling your nose in confusion as you sat down next to Ethan on the futon.
“It’s my room.” Ethan muttered, annoyance evident in his voice as he tried to focus on the video game he was playing. “That’s my brother studying – don't bother him.”
“So, where do you stay?” Bridget questioned Kyle as the two of them sat down on the edge of what you presumed to be Ethan’s bed.
“A few doors down – my roommate is pretty weird so I am in here most of the time.” Kyle shrugged, his attention fully on Bridget as she started to tell him about her day.
“How is he studying with everyone in here?” You glanced back at the brother before looking up at Ethan who was still fully engrossed in his game.
“He won’t walk to the library at night so he really has no choice.” Ethan shrugged, tossing his controller aside as he died in the game, a low groan of frustration leaving his mouth. “Why are you here?”
“Rude.” You rolled your eyes at him, but answered anyways. “She asked me to come and it’s not like I could give her a valid excuse.”
“Well...” Ethan glanced around the room, seeing Kyle and Bridget in their own little world and his younger brother pretending two girls hadn’t just walked into their shared space. “You smoke?”
“Weed?” You confirmed before saying yes to him – he shook his head yes quickly and you smiled mischievously. “Hell yeah I do.”
Ethan stood up quickly, shuffling around in his bedside table drawers before nodding at you to follow him into the bathroom. The two of you were sharing a joint quickly, he had turned on the overhead fan as if that was going to help anything. You were about halfway through when you realized how close he was to you; you were sitting on the edge of the sink, his body was between your legs as you passed the small wrapped paper back and forth. You knew the affect you had on men and it was usually pretty fun for you to take advantage of how easily you could have them on your knees for you. You knew Ethan’s eyes were trained on your lips with every puff you took, he would lick his lips in hesitation as you pressed the tip back to him – not letting go of the base as he took his own.
As he slid one of his hands around your bare waist and started to speak, the door to the bathroom flew open and the similar face of what you could only assume was Ethan’s brother was on the other side. His glasses were pushed back down on his face – his very angry face – as he glared at the two of you.
“Ethan - you can’t DO that in here!” He huffed, not bothering to flick the thing away from the two of you – he didn’t want to burn anything.
“Grayson, come on.” Ethan groaned, stepping away from you and putting the j*int out in the sink. “It’s not a big deal.”
“Yes it is, Ethan.” Grayson spoke roughly again, his eyes flickering up to you for a moment. “We aren’t even supposed to have girls in here this late.”
“Well, Kyle is also here?” Ethan shot back, trying to reason with his very upset brother.
“No he isn’t, they left – said something about going back to her room.”
“Ughhh,” You threw your head back in annoyance, knowing you weren’t going to be able to go back to your room for a while.
“You can just hang out here, don’t worry about it.” Ethan shrugged at you, stepping past his brother and patting his back playfully. “Relax, Gray.”
“Hi, Grayson – I'm Logan.” You hopped off the counter and extended your hand to him, but he looked at it with disgust before rolling his eyes and sauntering off to his desk. “Alriiight.” You chuckled awkwardly as you shuffled back over to the futon and sunk into it – Ethan was on the edge of his bed watching something on his phone.
“What’s his deal?” You questioned Ethan.
“Oh, nothing... he’s just Mr. Goody Two Shoes.” Ethan giggled, the effects of the drugs taking affect as he poked fun at his brother who was no longer wearing his headphones.
“He’s never done anything bad?” You raised an eyebrow, glancing at him again – his hand was gripping his pencil tightly. His white knuckles exposed him.
“Nuh-uh.” Ethan shook his head. “Perfect, golden Grayson.”
“Ethan could you shut up?” Grayson whipped his head around, you were sure you could see tears in his eyes behind those thick-rimmed glasses. Ethan winced and crawled up into his bed, throwing the blanket over him to pretend to ignore his brother. Grayson’s eyes flicked to you and he blinked a few times, what you could only imagine was to get whatever tears in his eyes to go away.
“Sorry.” You chirped, giving him a tight-lipped smile before curling up on the futon and shutting your eyes.
-
“Hey...please wake up... jesus.”
The soft voice woke you up from your rock solid sleep, there was a hand on your shoulder, shaking you back and forth. You managed to peel your eyes open, a dark pair of glasses the first thing in your line of vision. It took you a few seconds to realize where you were, but there was a small blanket on top of you that you hadn’t put there and a pillow under your head as well.
“Thank god.” Grayson sighed, leaning back on his knees as you slowly sat up. “It’s 11AM and I really have to get to class... Ethan is already gone and I didn’t want to leave you in here alone.”
“Oh - yeah – yeah.” You nodded your head, rubbing your eyes sleepily before moving the blanket away from you and reaching around for your phone and keys. “Sorry - I’ll head out. Thanks for waking me up.”
“Sure.” The quiet boy nodded at you as you fumbled around for your shoes and shuffled out of the door.
-
A few days later and Bridget was claiming she was already planning her wedding to Kyle in her head. You wanted to warn her; knowing she did this every time any guy showed interest in her, but you didn’t want to rain on her parade. You hadn’t seen any of the boys again since Monday evening, you’d skipped your class Wednesday morning and surprisingly didn’t have any others with them.
Friday was here before you knew it and you and Bridget were getting dressed to go out – Kyle had begged her to come to Ethan’s frat, so that’s where you were going. You had settled on a nice pair of jeans and a white crop top; not bothering too much with your shoes because they were bound to get ruined.
“Logan, please don’t get too off your ass before we leave.” Bridget groaned as you took another pull of your Evan Williams. “I really don’t want to have to spend all night holding your hair in the bathroom.”
“Oh, shutup. I’ll be fine.” You rolled your eyes as you tucked the bottle into a Kroger bag and followed your friend out of the dorm.
-
“Bridget! Logan!” Kyle’s excited voice rung in your ears as the two of you wandered into the kitchen of the crowded frat house. You smiled at him softly as he pulled Bridget in for a hug, both of them immediately forgetting you were even there. You truly didn’t mind – you were able to entertain yourself at these things alone pretty easily.
Somewhere along the way, you had finished your bottle and made your way down to the basement where everyone was dancing. You weren’t sure who you were pressed up against, but you really didn’t care – sweaty bodies moving together with bass pounding was enough to distract you from anything. Whoever was behind you decided to step away, meaning you stumbled backwards into the hard wall – a loud oof leaving your chest as your head connected with the drywall.
As you steadied yourself, you glanced around the nearly pitch black room – faces only lighting up with the occasional flash of a neon strobe light. You were nowhere near sober, but you were sure you couldn’t be hallucinating Ethan Dolan curled up in a ball in the corner of the room. A small giggle left your mouth as you stumbled over to him, your face wrinkled in confusion as you kneeled down next to him.
“Ethan?” You shook the boy covered in who knows what liquid in front of you, he was definitely awake but definitely not okay. He glanced up at you, his eyes were pretty glossed over but you managed to sit up with his back resting against the wall. “Why were you on the floor?”
“Tired.” He shrugged, glancing around the room. “Why are you on the floor?”
“Because... you were on the floor.” You slurred, shrugging and deciding to join him on the ground – not really caring about how you were definitely ruining your jeans. “How much did you drink?”
“Can’t remember.” He shrugged again, leaning his body into yours and letting out a sigh as he rested his head on your shoulder. “We should go home.”
“I want fooood.” You nodded, resting your head against the wall as well.
-
“You have got to be kidding me!” Bridget’s voice cut through the air as your eyes shot open, a gasp leaving your lips as your eyes landed on her face that was maybe 2 inches away from yours. “How did you two fall asleep in the middle of a party?!”
“Wha-?” You twisted your head to see Ethan also attempting to wake up – there were still people dancing around you, but Bridget and Kyle were crouched down in front of you.
“Both of you – up.” Kyle snapped his fingers, reaching his hands down to help the both of you stand up. Bridget’s arm wrapped around your waist, Kyle’s around Ethan as they helped you both upstairs. “Grayson is coming to get you.” Kyle explained as the four of you stood on the lawn.
“Mr. Goody Two Shoes?” You gawked, crossing your arms in frustration. “He’s not gonna be any fun.”
“That’s the point.” Kyle muttered, his eyes brightening as a white Jeep pulled up in front of the house. “See, here he is.”
You and Ethan stumbled up to the car, you immediately got in the back as Ethan climbed into the front. Grayson had a hoodie propped up on his head, his glasses covering his puffy eyes. His jaw was clenched and you weren’t sure if it was the alcohol in you or if he looked hot angry, but you couldn’t help what tumbled out of your mouth as he pulled away from the party.
“Ugh, fuck – in a car with two hot ass twins.” You threw your head back against the headrest and moaned. “The things I’d do.”
Ethan started giggling hysterically while you were positive Grayson’s face was blood red. Ethan slapped his brother’s arm playfully and turned back to wink at you. “Hear that Gray? BOTH of us, not just me.”
“Aw, come on Ethan.” You shook your head as Grayson pulled into the parking lot of your dorm. “Maybe I was just including you to be nice.”
“Shut up.” Ethan rolled his eyes as he stumbled out of the car. “No one in their right mind would pick Grayson over me.” He smirked as he took off towards the building, his hands in his pockets as he swayed back and forth.
“Can you walk?” Grayson muttered from the front seat, his eyes briefly making contact with yours in the rearview mirror.
“Yeah.” You nodded at him before jumping out of the Jeep and walking next to him up the long sidewalk. “Why do you let him say those things about you?”
“He’s not wrong.” He shrugged, opening the door for you. “He’s drunk and just being honest.”
His answer made you sigh and you headed towards your room, but soon realized you had no idea where your keys were. Grayson was standing at the end of the hallway to make sure you got to your room and raised an eyebrow at you as you turned on your heel with a pout.
“I don’t have my keys.”
“Come on.” He sighed, turning around to head up to his room.
As the two of you entered the shared room, you immediately heard Ethan’s loud snores – he was sprawled out on the futon, drool sliding down his face. You wrinkled your nose up at him, letting out a sigh as you went over to jump onto Ethan’s bed.
“You don’t want to lay there.” Grayson warned you.
“Why?” You looked at him, confused.
“Let’s just say... probably 10 girls since school started and he hasn’t washed those sheets once.”
“Ew.” You grimaced, stepping away from the bed. “Okay, well I will just wait til Bridget and Kyle get back so she can let me in.”
“She’s not gonna let you in that room all night.” Grayson rolled his eyes and pulled his comforter on his bed back and held his hand out to you to help you step up. “Just sleep here, don’t worry about it.”
“Where are you gonna sleep?” Grayson just shook his head at you as you asked. “Okay, well – let me at least take my pants off so I don’t ruin your bed.” You drunkenly shimmied your jeans down your legs, not noticing Grayson’s eyes bulging out of his head as he stared at your butt. You quickly gripped his hand and stepped up into his bed, sliding into the warm blankets.
You watched quietly as Grayson shuffled around the room, brushing his teeth and setting up a collection of pillows on the floor to sleep on. He flicked the light off and got down on the ground, resting his head on the pillow and pulling the small blanket over his body. It took about three uncomfortable sighs and flips of his body for you to sit up and switch the lamp next to you on. He looked up at you, his eyes now fully visible as he had removed his glasses – they were hazel – just like Ethan’s.
“Just get in the bed, Grayson.” You spoke firmly, moving the blankets back and sinking as far into the side of the bed against the wall as possible. He went to speak but you held up your hand and slapped the mattress again. “Come on.”
He sighed and pushed himself up off of the floor, his grey sweatpants and white t-shirt clung to his body tightly. His face was much softer than Ethan’s, but his body actually seemed a little more built somehow. He was usually in awkwardly fitting clothing and oddly styled hair, so seeing him in casual sweats made him look like a new person.
He lifted himself up into the bed, his knees knocking against yours as he got comfortable on his side. He leaned over and turned off the lamp before resting his head back into the pillow – you could hear his heavy breathing and felt his heart pounding in the veins on his wrist as it rested against your forearm. “Thanks.” He muttered softly, letting out a deep breath of air as you leaned over and pressed a kiss to the shy boy’s cheek.
#grayson dolan#ethan dolan#the dolan twins#the dolan twin fanfic#dolan twins fandom#grayson dolan fanfic#ethan dolan fanfic#grayson dolan imagine#dolan twin imagine
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Secrets of the Darkened Seas
Welcome to Chapter one! Apologies for the delays but life threw responsibilities. Thank you for your patience and a thank you to my co-author and dear best friend Olivia ( @asunshinepuff ), if it wasn’t for her, this story would not exist.
This chapter includes the OC that my friend Olivia has created and I sincerely hope you like him. Hints of mermaid lore is included within the chapter of different types of merfolk that were inspired by the book “The Secret World of Mermaids” by Francine Rose. We are not taking credit of her work. Now enjoy.
Chapter 1: The Tail of Fates
The gulls glided across the scorching sky, the sun beating down on the port-men docking the ships that traveled across the sea. The merry drunken men who stumbled their way out of the taverns filled with jolly music made their way to the docks. Wincing at the harsh rays of sunlight, the sweltering heat and humidity offers no reprieve for the men who indulged in the advantages of liquid courage to discard their tasks. Merchants bring in goods from the islands that seemed worlds away to a mere boy at the age of 14. The boy had short tawny brown hair, tanned skin from days working out in the sun, and very bright amber colored eyes which seemed to capture the same essence of the crystallized equivalents of the color. Dressed in a rather modest attire appropriate for his status - consisting of a white long sleeved shirt, the sleeves were rolled up due to the heat, light brown slacks and dark brown boots. Around his waist was a light blue scarf, supposedly what he had been found swaddled in when he was just a babe. He could never find the strength to part with it. The guilt overpowered him.
“The beauties of the islands lads, best three days of me life mate.”
“Three days of only looking at the dames.” The sailor snorts a retort as he leans against a pillar on the dock. “ They probably ran off in the other direction just at the mere sight of your pathetic self.” The group of three jolly sailors laughed in merriment as the sailor who was sharing his tale shoved the other two in embarrassment.
The boy had been sweeping the dock nearby the sailors, rolling his eyes at the stories. It was always the same. Seamen making port and bedding the beauties from the mysterious island that he himself has never traversed. Internally, he began counting the seconds till one of the sailors again made mentions of the maidens of the sea, and as always- it took only a count of ten.
“I wager the beauties on that port can’t hold a candle to their maidens of the sea.” A sailor with three scars slashed across his face grinned.
“Oh not this, again,” The first sailor, with a fancy for the beauties, with tattered clothes and blonde hair groaned. “ Bloody hell mate, you say that cursed tale every time. The women of the sea, with a fishes tail.”
“ Aye, and you’d best heed it.” The sailor with three scars eyes his mates in suspicion. “Lest you never return to land, drowned like a dog and fed to the fishes.”
“No one has seen those monsters for centuries mate. Let it go. It’s nothing but stories to scare sailors, nothing more.”
“ No!” The sailor yells. “ I’ve seen them! The war didn’t wipe them out. They were the ones who scarred me face! There ain’t anything like it, to hear the songs of those maidens. You try to pull away, to drown it out with your thoughts, but ya can’t. There is no escape, it invades your minds, pulling you to the sea and into their webbed claws!” He grumbles out as he touches his scarred face tenderly. As if the scars were fresh, open with fresh blood spilling.
“ You lads wouldn’t stand a chance, I should be at the bottom of the sea, but these maidens be fickle things, they are.” He looks out to the sea, calm waves kissing the shore. “To see one, changes your fate. To hear one’s song, is your doom.”
The boy paused momentarily as he heard the scarred sailors warning. His thoughts race across his mind before he returns to the present when he’s called.
“Oi boy!” A man from upon the ship called down, leaning overboard. “Come up here lad! There’s a job I need ye to take care of!”
The boy looked up to the adult man, he couldn’t discern fully from this far away the man’s appearance. The high rays of the sun give the wooden docks a shadow of coverage. He was rather reluctant to leave the cool reprieve, however, it would be worse if he neglected his duties of the port, “Be right there.”
Walking upon the loading dock to the deck of the rather large ship, it was difficult to fight the urge to look around in a strange awe, even though it’s appearance is rather haggard and beaten. Although he has spent many a day upon ship for moments at a time since beginning his work a few years back, there was a certain mystery behind each ship that entered the ports of this bustling town. Each ship held a story behind its experiences. Each cannon battle, the waters of the seven seas it has traversed, the storms it has survived destruction, treasures it has held and lead its captain’s to discover.
“Yes sir?” The boy looks up to the bulk of an angry looking man whose face always seemed to have a sneer. Even in his sleep. The bulk of a man was dressed in a shirt that looked two sizes too small, and a tattered grey coat that squeezed the man, fitting his frame with strain as his arms were always pulled back. His pants were faded from black to grey, his boots were old and worn. Smelling like a dead rat. His teeth were ghastly to gaze upon, yellow with brown stains, his breath could probably kill a man. His eyes were a beady black like the sharks that swam in the shallow waters, a bald head with black spots. A pity, he must’ve looked worse as a child. As most children do. He glowers at the scrawny boy before he look away.
“Go search the taverns for this ships’ Captain. We leave at dusk. Blokes probably drunk beyond hell, feeling up the women.” He shakes his head as he waves the boy off with a mere wave of his hand.
With a nod in confirmation, the boy exited the deck and headed off in search of the tavern so that he may find the Captain of the ship, rather grateful to being away from the rather disgusting first mate. If that bulk of a man looked that haggard, he could only imagine the Captain with a shudder at the thought. In the distance, he could see another ship that seemed to be a practical stark contrast. The masts that were open, were as white as the very clouds that floated in the sky, wooden haul was a rich brown mahogany, the railings were painted gold like the sun. The sailors looked well groomed, their clothes neat and fitted to their frames.
The boy searched from tavern to tavern, until finally he came across the Buccaneers' Oyster. With a sigh of exasperation, he opens the doors and enters the busy tavern hoping that this time he had finally found the correct one. The tavern was dark with dim lighting from the candles that were scattered about the establishment. The windows were the only source of natural sunlight that seeped into the tavern that reeked of alcohol and vomit. The sounds of clinking glassware and cheers from sailors echo all around, the soft giggling of women sitting on the laps of the drunkest of seamen. Ignoring the commotion, and his disgust at the reeking smells, he makes his way to the main counter where a man was the barkeep. The wall behind was lined with large kegs and the shelves were lined with clean pints.
“Excuse me. Do you happen to know if Captain Barclay is here?” The boy says, raising his voice over the loud cheering of the sailors in their merriment. The bar keeper doesn’t even spare the boy a glance as he simply points to the back of the tavern where a man was sitting, well more falling off his chair than anything, as he smiled stupidly at a lady. The captain in question was a tall lanky man with a hooked nose, horrible teeth, a large mole on the side of his neck, tanned skin and green eyes. His clothes were an absolute mess which could possibly be vomit, or mashed potatoes. The boy was very much hoping for the latter. A white shirt with a red stain, rum possibly, short brown pants and his shoes seemed to have vanished. Hopefully the shoes walked away themselves, saving what little dignity they had and drowned themselves in the sea. The stench dying with them. Or the captain had lost his shoes in a gamble. That seemed more likely.
Taking a deep breath in preparation, he makes his way over to the back of the tavern so that he could finally fetch the man and get out of this place. The man seemed practically worse close up in person, if that was even possible. “Excuse me? Captain Barclay?” He asks, hoping to gain the drunken Captain’s attention and draw it away from the women. “I was asked to fetch you by your first mate. And bring you back to your ship.”
The man makes a small noise of acknowledgment as he turns to look at the deck-boy. His alcohol glazed eyes look over the small boy before he shrugs him off and turns the lady he had in his lanky finger. “Bugger off boy, the adults are talkin.’” His hand waves him off with the pint of rum that sloshed to the ground in his sluggish gestures. “Now where we?”
“Please sir, let me go. I do not work here. I am merely looking for my fiancé.” A pale soft face young lady pulls her hand to try to free herself from the seaman. Her soft brown curls bouncing as she turns her head to the boy. Her hazel eyes lock eyes with his, her skin pale from her bold green dress. Help me she mouths.
The boy’s eyes widen a small fraction, trying to figure out a way to help the woman out of her predicament. “Captain. I insist.” He repeats, his tone much more firm and without argument.
With a sneer the lanky captain looked to the boy before he points at the boy with his pint. Standing up, he was two heads taller than the boy. “Listen boy,” he stumbles closer, the pint in his hands dropping what little rum it had to the floor. “ I spent six months at sea, I ain’t about to let a lass like this slip past me, now run off. Before I beat you.”
“You chose quite a profession that allows you to be at sea for months at a time, Captain.” He says, looking up at the man “Guess there’s sacrifices to make now isn’t there? And if you actually listened with your ears rather than another part of your body, then you would understand that this lady has no interest in you. And is taken.”
“Why you little rat!” The man grips the boy's collar, forgetting the pint, dropping it to the floor, letting the lady go as he raises his fist. “I’m going to enjoy this.”
“You’re really going to punch a child mate? How low can you get?” A voice interjects, as a rather handsome young man walks over. The tall young man had short tousled red-brown hair, fetching blue eyes and light tanned skin. Dressed in a black long sleeved shirt, burgundy red long buckled coat with bright red accents, dark brown slacks and black boots. On his left hip, a wide looking sword was sheathed in solid black with gold accents.
“Who the bloody hell are you? Bugger off!”
“My name is of no importance. Just let him go.”
“Why the hell would I do that, a good beaten ought to teach about being respectful to his elders!” He looks away and aims for a punch.
The man scoffs, “As if you’re worth giving respect. The boy was just doing his job.” He steps forward and grabs the man’s fist in a hard grip as it nears the boy. “If you want respect, then earn it.”
“Why you!” The man drops the boy and turns to punch the man who stopped him from giving the boy a lesson.
The man can’t help but roll his eyes with a sigh, “Oh for Heaven’s sake.” The drunk captain isn’t even able to reach him before he retaliates with a punch of his own, knocking the captain out cold. A satisfied grin falls upon his lips. The lady gasps before she quickly runs off after giving the man a quick thank you. The man turns to the boy.
“Are you alright there boy?”
The boy nods, looking up to the taller man who intervened. Why did he? He cannot help but wonder. Most people would've just ignored the ruckus and not bat an eye. “I’m alright. Thank you Mr…”
“Sandoval, Quinn Sandoval. But please just call me Quinn.” He smiles down at the boy. “What’s your name? I can’t keep calling you boy now can I?”
“No, I suppose not.” He replies with a light chuckle, “My name’s Remus. Remus Lupin. It’s nice to meet you, Quinn.”
“Well, Remus, it’s nice to meet you as well.” He looks down to the unconscious captain with an exasperated sigh, lightly kicking his leg. “Best take him back to his ship eh?” He looks at Remus with mirth in his eyes before he walks over to the captain’s head, grabbing ahold one of his arms before pulling him up. “Grab his other arm will you? Let’s take him back to his ship. Although I doubt he will be useful.”
Remus nods quickly before he walks over to the other side, grabbing ahold of the other arm to help hold him up. “Doubt he will as well, to be frank.”
The pair carry the dunkard back to the docks without much strain. Aside from the occasional bump to the head. They walk up to the ship where the first mate sees them approaching, walking down the loading dock.
“What the bloody hell happened to him? I have been waitin’ here for hours boy!” The bulky man marches to Remus. His face red in anger.
“Well rather difficult to track down a man with this many taverns in this town isn’t it?” Quinn says in defense, looking down to the unconscious man before continuing an explanation, “Your Captain got himself plastered and in a tavern fight. I had to help the boy carry him back.” He glances to Remus and gives him a conspiratorial wink.
The first mate begrudgingly orders two men from the crew to take the captain onboard. He looks to the boy with a scowl. “What are ye waitin’ for, get back to work!”
Quinn frowns lightly as he looks to Remus. “You work the docks?”
Remus fights the urge to flinch at the hard scowl under the first mate’s gaze. He looks to Quinn at his question before nodding. “I do.”
Quinn can only nod once slowly in understanding. He looks to the first mate, then to the docks, then to Remus before he smiles. “ Well not anymore.”
Remus’ eyes widen as he looks quizzically to the man he had just met. “What?”
“ What the bloody hell are you talkin’ about.” The first mate growls out.
Quinn ignores the man as he looks over the young boy. “Tell me honestly Remus, would you rather work the docks for men like him, or come with me to my captain’s ship and actually live your life without regrets.” He looks back to the docks and the wrecked ship the bulky man sent the drunk captain to doc. “I know what I’d chose. And it wouldn’t be a life with little to no rewards.”
Remus looks out to the sea beyond the docked ships, watching the sun’s rays reflect upon the blue waking waters as he contemplates. This man hardly knows him, practically just met him about half an hour ago, and yet he’s offering him a chance to sail? A chance to leave this place? How can someone be this trusting? He looks back to Quinn with a skeptical look, “Why are you offering me this? You hardly know me. I could be a thief for all you know.”
Quinn smiles. “ Because I like you, you have wit and you clearly are a hard worker. I have a good feeling about you.” He looks to the sea. “ So, what will it be, Remus? A life of servitude, or a life of freedom?” He looks back to Remus.
Remus cannot help but smile in return, “Freedom.”
#wolfstar remus lupin sirius black remus x sirius pirate captain mermaid pirate and mermaid au#quinn sandoval#asunshinepuff oc
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Wrong roommate [Roger Taylor x F!Reader]
Words : 6, 000 K +
Warnings : +18!
Summary : You go back to a guy’s flat and ended up the night with his roomie instead.
Note : I literally dreamed about that two days ago and spent all my free time writing about this, I have to admit it was pretty fun and about 70% smutty. (That also the reason why I didn’t finish the chapter for TSFAFIS, I will post it next tuesday!!!)
Tell me what you think lovies !!
☀ Masterlist ☀ 800 followers celebration !!!
“It’s okay, it happen to the best of us” You said and cringed internally at how awkward all of this situation was. “Really James, it’s no biggie, hum maybe next time yeah ?”
You quickly pulled back your skirt on and buttoned your cute blouse, ignoring the aching of your pussy. You were dripping wet and more frustrated than ever.
“Wait ! Give me just a minute okay ? I can…” James called you, he was sat on the end of the bed, one hand wrapped around his dick which was now wearing a worrisome purple shade. “Maybe if you show me your tits again ?” He glanced at you, fingers tugging like a crazy on his cock and honestly you were worried he would hurt himself.
You rolled your eyes and shook your head, it was time for you to go home. You were beyond desperate, your clit throbbing painfully and your nipples hard like rock. It should be the case of James’ dick too but nothing worked, he couldn’t go further than half-hard, no matter what you both tried. It was humiliating for him and for you too — weren’t you hot enough to make him hard ? — so you decided it was for the best to stop here.
“I will see you around James” You muttered and ignored his whining, closing the door behind you.
You sat on the sofa, kicking before an old and smelly tee-shirt and slid your right stilettos on your foot, sighing loudly. You couldn’t wait to go back at your dorm and taking care of yourself, you were never disappointed that way. You cursed internally James, technically it wasn’t his fault if he couldn’t have a hard-on but he should have know himself better. You gave him a handjob in his car before he drove you here and you asked him few times he was sure if he could get hard again if you make him cum. He said yes, of course! Fucking liar. He didn’t even finger you correctly, forgetting about your poor clit and he was too eager, not really knowing was he was doing. It was frustrating because you were really excited, he was incredibly hot with a perfectly sculpted torso, brunette hairs hanging in a bun and a killer smile. Everything you liked. The tattoos were only bonus.
“It’s not your fault, you know” You raised your head at the voice and were relieved than it wasn’t James, running after you. Instead it was a lanky boy, well he wasn’t that tall but he was shirtless and clearly thin compared to his flatmate James. “You’re not the first girl to end up the night disappointed with our little Jamie” He flopped himself next to you, a beer in his hand. “This block can’t get hard half of the time, doesn’t matter how hot the girl in his room is” The boy chuckled but his eyes ogling you without a once of shame.
“Thank you...I guess” You replied awkwardly and focused on closing the strap of your shoe, trying to ignore his intense stare. “Why are you looking at me ?” You asked without glancing at him, sliding on your second shoe.
“It’s just such a waste, you’re so hot” His voice was octave lower than before and when you looked at him, you didn’t miss the lust dancing in his pupils. You rolled your eyes. “Too bad you picked the wrong roommate” He cockily added, his tongue sliding on his bottom lip before taking a long sip of his beer.
You snorted at his words.
“And you’re supposed to be the good roommate to bring home ?” You sassily questioned, crossing your arms.
“I am better than good, sweetheart” He bowed his head toward you, giving you a better look of his soft features. “I’m. So. Fucking. Great” He murmured hoarsely, his hand went on your bare knee, squeezed lightly before moving it away.
You couldn’t deny that his little charming act made you more bothered than you already were. But honestly, you had enough disappointment in one evening.
“Yeah, yeah, I already heard that somewhere” You motioned to James’ door and closed your strap shoe before standing up. He did the same and chewed his lower lip, finishing his beer in a sip. “And no offence honey but you don’t look like you could handle correctly a girl” You murmured and he didn’t seems hurt, instead he smirked and ran a hand in his messy hairs.
That was true, compared to James who was muscular with broad shoulders and much taller, he looked a bit ridiculous. You took another glance at him. They were so different. This man was blond, you could see he dyed his hairs and you found that pretty weird for a boy but it did look good on him. Wild long messy lock. His eyes were big and deep blue, adored with insanely long eyelashes – honestly you were jealous –, you were almost sure he had black eyeline under his eyes. It was strangely turning you on. His features were soft, almost feminine with his little pink lips and his teasing tongue, always poking out. Alright, he was hot, a different kind of hot but still.
“Like what you see, Sweetheart ?” You moved your gaze away after his little comment and he took a step toward you and this time, you didn’t budge. “You’re really beautiful, ya know that ?” He murmured and pushed away a strand of hairs from your face, a low shiver rolling down your spine. “And so frustrated” He added, his finger trailing on your jaw but you slapped it away.
“That only because of your stupid roomie” You felt obligate to defend yourself. “I’m gonna home and take good care of myself” The nameless blond breathed loudly and he rubbed a hand on his bare shoulder, eyes checking your bare legs.
“I know you can, sweetheart” He nodded, his voice was filed with hunger and you could feel the tension in the air. Thick and hot. You could feel more than never the wetness on your panties and it wasn’t very comfortable, that was the least to say. “But I can do it better” The blond said without any cockiness in his tone for once, like it was just a fact.
You scoffed and turned your head, trying to ignore how distracting his breath against your cheek was, the warmth emanating from his body was making weak. You didn’t say anything and he took it like an encouragement, coming closer to you.
“I’m not like James, I don’t need to oversell myself to have a girl in my bed” The blond grabbed your chin softly, his eyes roaming on your red painted lips. “I’m sure he told you how insanely good he is and how big his cock is, right ?” You pouted as a confirmation and he chuckled gently, running a thumb on your bottom lip. Sensually and slowly. He was right, James promised you so many things for tonight, you weren’t that surprise that his dick was smaller than he said, most of men lied about it. Pride and all but he went too far, the guy couldn’t even get a boner ! “My poor little kitten, I bet this soaked knickers aren’t really nice to wear, hmm ?” You stopped breathing when his right hand found your waist and his other hand cupped your cheek, lips brushing lazily against your neck.
His mouth slowly travelled down your throat, putting light kisses all the way. The tip of his nose was cold making a contrast with his hot lips and it was a very nice feeling.
“I don’t even know your name” You weakly protested, his hands slid down your bum and squeezed it cheekily, a low moan escaping your parted mouth.
“I’m Roger and you are (Y/N)” He murmured onto your skin, his teeth nibbling on your neck, making it very hard to think. “And I can give you a really good time, if you let me, sweetheart”
“How do you know my name ?” You asked absent-mindedly, your hands moving to cross on the back of his neck, head titling on the side lightly, giving him more space to work.
“Because I had planned to take you home tonight” Roger confessed and slowly walked back, his mouth still attached to your neck. “James was quicker, unfortunately” He sat on the sofa and tugged your hand to make you follow. You didn’t even think twice and straddled his thigh, your forehead falling on his.
You snorted quietly, his cocky tone making you laugh.
“That a very smooth line, even for you Roger” You slowly grinded your drenching panties on his jeans, moaning with relief at the feeling of friction against your clothed clit. His right hand slid under your blouse, caressing your soft skin of your belly and the other hand was helping you rocking on his leg.
“But it’s true” He chuckled and grunted loudly when you palmed him through his pants, more than delighted to feel hard under your touch. It didn’t take long. “I was at the End of the world too, in fact my band was playing in that pub tonight” His digits went on your cheek, grabbing your face and his teeth gently tugged on your bottom lip, sucking on it lightly.
You sighed with pleasure and quickened the pace of your rubbing, feeling the knot in your stomach tightening at every move.
“Really ?” You asked with surprise and he hummed in approval, letting go of your lip and barely brushed his mouth against yours, just enough to tease you and making craving for more. “I didn’t see you”
“The perk of being the drummer, always hiding in the back” Roger murmured, his voice thick with need and his hips were rolling at the same rhythm as you, his chest puffing up and down. “But I saw you, your perky, little bum barely covered with this tiny little skirt” He moaned against your lips, his large palms rolling up your cloth to knead shamelessly your ass. And you didn’t mind at all.
His fingers were callous and incredibly hot, your orgasm was approaching at a fast pace and Roger’s eyes were widely dilated with lust, making only groaned highly.
“Well, you were pretty good, the gig was amazing” You complimented truthfully but you were having trouble to keep your mind clear with the pressure building inside your belly.
“Thank you (Y/N)” He said and you mouth fell agape, few more seconds and you were done. “Let go for me sweetheart, cum on my pants” He whispered in your ear and you let out a strangle cry, feeling so so close.
“Kitten” You breathed out with difficulty. He arched a brow and you repeated. “I prefer when you call me kitten” You were too aroused to even be embarrassed by the need dripping from your voice.
He smirked but didn’t tease you and gently bit on the lobe of your ear.
“Cum for me kitten” That was all you needed and in a muffled sob – Roger’s lips captured yours at the same exact moment – you came on his pants. Hard.
And now he was kissing you, deeply and intensely, swallowing all your little moans and cries, making sure you rode all of your high. His tongue went to mess with yours, hot and sloppy kiss, only adding fuel in the fire burning between your thighs.
“Holy shit” You breathed loudly, breaking the kiss to breath. “I can’t believe I just did that. James could have walked on us at any moment” You wiped with your thumb the lipstick around Roger’s mouth and slowly stood up, pushing back correctly your skirt.
You just cum on a complete stranger’s jeans. You didn’t see it coming. It felt strange but you weren’t regretting it, you finally had an orgasm.
“That was so hot” The drummer murmured, his pads scratching lazily his little belly, covered with few light hairs. “Should we move to my bed room ?” He asked and you hesitated, feeling a bit weird to sleep with the roomie of your...date of the night.
“I’m not sure it’s a good idea” You mumbled, trying to tame your hairs a little. “I mean...James is a nice guy, I shouldn’t have sex with you just because he can’t get a hard-on” You chewed your lips awkwardly, Roger was visibly painfully hard and his jeans had a wet patch on it because of you. You didn’t own anything to James but you felt bad to do that, you wouldn’t like to see the guy you brought home go sleep with your roommate. Absolutely not.
“James...is not as nice as you think, kitten” The blond stood up and licked his swollen lips before grabbing your hand, his fingers playing with yours. “How mad would you be if I told you he has a girlfriend ?” He used his free hands to turned toward a framed picture on the shelf. It was James and a girl, beautiful one, his arm wrapped around her waist as she kissed his cheek lovingly.
“Fucking asshole” You groaned and humphed angrily, eyes darting toward his door. “He can’t fucking get a hard-on and he also cheat on his girlfriend ? What a useless little shit” You shook your head and a wave of relief rolled on you at the thought that you didn’t sleep with him. You found him hot but you were certainly not the kind of girl who sleep with the boyfriend of other girls.
“Laura, that’s her name, she is gone for three months for an Erasmus exchange and he didn’t wait more than a day before bringing someone else here” Roger explained with a sigh. “Most of the girls finished like you”
“What ? You mean on your thigh ?” You mumbled almost angrily. You felt like he used you, knowing you would be desperate. Maybe it was his thing ? Fucking the girls his roommate couldn’t satisfied ?
He chuckled loudly and shook his head.
“Hell no, I mean frustrated and disappointed” His baby blue eyes locked with yours and he easily picked up your irritation. “Usually the girls aren’t as hot as you, not at all. And I told you, I don’t have problem to bring girl back in my room” He shrugged and brought your hands to his mouth, kissing softly your knuckles.
“So why are you alone on a saturday night, Mister hottie ?” You chatted back and he grinned, like he wished you would ask that question. “Didn’t get lucky tonight ?”
He didn’t reply and crashed his mouth against yours, a surprise gasp leaving your throat. The kiss was slower but much, much deeper. Lips melting into each other in a frenetic need. He slid his hands under your knees and you automatically wrapped your legs around his waist, moaning at the pressure of his boner against your center.
“I already told you, I saw you and I really, really wanted to take you home, kissing these pretty lips of yours” He let go of your mouth and walked to – you supposed – his room. “And your other lips too, bet you taste fucking delicious kitten” He purred into your mouth, giving you another mind-blowing kiss.
You let out a shaky cry at his words, your pussy throbbing with need and desire. This man was good with his tongue and words. And you were sure you didn’t even see half of his talents.
“What didn’t you talk to me in the pub ?” You murmured as he dropped you on the bed, his body flushed against yours. He dove into your neck, sucking harshly on your skin then soothing the pain with his hot tongue.
“You were in deep conversation with James, I didn’t wanted to screw my chance with you” He glanced at you, fingers on your blouse and you nodded eagerly. His pads quickly unbuttoned your clothe and exposed your red bra, your favourite and you were glad you decided to wear it tonight. You were slowly discovering how interesting Roger was and you wanted to please him. “I thought I would wait until you were annoyed with him but then, I saw you leaves with him” He whined and threw somewhere in the room your blouse, mouth kissing the shape of your breasts. “I knew you would be frustrated with this idiot, I was about to bring a chick home too but I thought that maybe...I could save your night afterwards” He winked and unclasped your bra, a low and hot moan escaping his mouth at the sight of your hard tits.
“You were right” You giggled dizzily, his warm mouth was now sucking on your nipple and you couldn’t thing about anything else. “But Roger...I had been enough disappointed tonight, I couldn’t bare go through that again” You cried, his fingers zipping down your skirt, the cold airs tickling your soaked knickers.
He stopped for a sec and pecked softly your lips, his large palm kneading your boob in the most delicious way possible.
“I won’t disappointing you, kitten, trust me” And you did. When his lips kissed gently your wet thong, nose brushing against your throbbing clit, you couldn’t control the bucking of your hips, begging for more friction. “Let me take care of you” You sighed with pleasure when he tugged down your thong, chuckling about how wet you were.
He stood for a second and you pouted, completely needy for him, any ounce of pride had left your body. You just wanted him, right now. He winked at you and took off his jeans, giving you a good view of his – too – tight underwear. The outline of his shaft was visible, a hard cock with a little patch of wetness coming from his pre-cum, begging to be sucked. You stretched a hand toward his clothed dick but he brought it in his hairs instead.
“I’m not done with you, kitten” He winked and kneeled on the floor, putting your ankles on his shoulders and spread your legs with a hungry look. “So fucking wet” He licked his tongue and ran a finger into your folds then brought it to his lips, sucking his digit clean. You moaned loudly at the sight, his pupils wide and filled with lust. “And so fucking good. I knew that the minute you walked into that pub”
Roger’s mouth trailed on wet thighs, kissing and gently biting, teasing you a bit and you tugged his hairs to make it stop.
“I still don’t fully believe you about seeing me in the pub, could just be what you said to every girl James brought home” You murmured and he chuckled softly before pressing a kiss right on your center, your back arching without any control.
“I didn’t lie, kitten. I saw you before we started our set” He dove into your pussy, eagerly and hungrily, tongue lapping loudly your wetness. The sound itself could make you cum. “You were with two friends, a little brunette and her boyfriend probably” He sucked his middle finger and inserted it into you, earning a soft whimper of your throat. “You went to the bar, all by yourself and you ordered a pint, looking for someone to spend the end of the night with. Weren’t you, kitten ?” You giggled softly, hips rolling automatically against his mouth, your fingers tugging in rhythm on his hairs.
“I was” You agreed, sighing softly as he nudged your clit with his nose, examining every of your reactions. “Needed a good fuck” You confessed in a strangle voice.
“You did look like you needed a good shag” Roger chuckled and dove a second finger into your folds, thrusting in and out in a slow pace. You felt your body burned at his caresses, little whimpers leaving your mouth, making the drummer’s cock throbbed painfully. “I was on the stage, installing my drums kit but you didn’t look at me, not once. Was fucking disappointed” He quickened his pace, his pads rubbed against your walls until he found the spot. The one which made you see stars and your toes curled.
“Jesus, Roger !” You cried and dug your heels into his back, one hand around the sheet and the other strongly gripping on his hairs. He hissed loudly and slid his fingers out, making you actually sobbed. You wiped your eyes and looked at him with anger. “The fuck you are doing ?”
“Relax, kitten, I just need to take off your shoes before you stabbed me in the back with these heels” He took off the strap of your stilettos and put a kiss on each of your ankles before positioning himself back. His skin was red and scratched.
“M’ sorry” You murmured, hand wiping the sweat from your forehead
“There we go” He threw the shoes away and gave you an apologetic smile at your whining, these stilettos were very expensive. “Where were we, pretty girl ?”
“I was about to cum” You pouted and he hummed appreciatively, fingers going back inside you and his marvellous mouth went on your clit, sucking on it. The combination of the two stimulations made your body shake and shameful loud cried of Roger’s name echoed in the room as you cum for the second time. “Ho– holy shit ! Rog, baby...that was...that was amazing” You panted and watched the drummer licking your arousal from around his mouth, a cocky smile on his features.
You sat lazily and stretched your arms, watching the blond standing up. You immediately tugged on his waistband and freed his cock, red and hard as a rock, slapping against his stomach. The sight made you drool. James was definitively the problem, not you or your body.
“See what you did to me, kitten ? Just for you” He purred and brought your right hand on his shaft to make you felt it. It was burning hot and twitching into your grip, begging for some attention. You were more than eager to comply. You bowed your head and licked a strip on his cock, right on a throbbing vein. He automatically bucked his hips toward your mouth and cursed quietly. You kissed softly his tip then swallowed it, looking at Roger through your lashes, giving him your best does-eyes. “God, wait (Y/N)...shit!” The way you were looking at him was killing him and he was afraid to not last long enough to please you. “As much as I love having these pretty lips around my cock, I really need to fuck you, kitten” The drummer brushed the hairs away of your face and you letting his cock go, brushing a last kiss on his red head.
“Alright then fuck me, Roger” You cockily said, your head falling on the pillows and legs spread widely to give him a nice view of your soaking pussy. Your pads went pinching your hard tits, moaning softly the touch. He watched you caressed yourself several seconds, gaze following every of your movements until your digit disappeared into your folds, it was his spot. He quickly grabbed a condom and crawled on you, looking like a predator ready to jump on his prey. A shiver ran through your body. An excited and eager one.
“I was so mad that you didn’t look at me before our gig” He shook his head, trailing his lips on your jaw, his cock flushed against your bare center and honestly, your legs were shaking with anticipation. “Didn’t have time to go and talk to you before the start” He growled against your skin and you buried your head further into the pillow, one of his large palm caressing your bum. “And I couldn’t see you during the gig because I’m fucking blind and you were too far in the back” He complained and you whined softly, his teeth tugging on the flesh of your neck, adorning your skin with a love bite. “So I thought I would come and talk to you at the end of our set” His lips melted on yours, a sweaty and sloppy kiss that made your mind dizzy. He was an incredible kisser. In fact, it was the most skilled kisser you ever met but you wouldn’t certainly not tell him, he was cocky enough like that.
“You should have talked to me” You cried, watching him rolling the condom on his cock before rubbing his tip against your pussy, your hands clenching around his sweaty neck. “I wouldn’t have lost my time with this asshole” You pressed your bare heels into his pretty bum and he picked up what you wanted, inserting his hard cock into your core, both of you moaning into each other mouths in the hottest way possible.
“Didn’t have time, kitten” He protested and you both chuckled, his teeth nibbling on your jaw. His thrust were slow and lazy, not in a hurry to finish. “But I wanted to talk to you after the set but you were already busy with James, his tongue deep into your throat” He almost grunted, a sparkle of jealousy in his eyes.
“Were you jealous, baby ?” You purred with a smirk and gave you a particularly hard thrust, making your cocky smile fell from your face, immediately replaced with an agape and moaning mouth. “Yes, yes, yes ! Don’t stop, Rog !” You pleaded, eyes closing in intense pleasure and fingers tugging harshly on his roots.
The drummer wasn’t slow anymore, he was rough and merciless, pounding into you strongly, little cries falling from your lips in continuity.
“I was fucking jealous (Y/N), I knew he wouldn’t satisfied you and you deserved the best shagging of your life” The blond bended one of your knee to go deeper and reached this sweet spot again, your eyes rolling into your skull. “Then I saw you leave with him, so I packed my things, flirted a bit and went home, none of these girls were...interesting compared to you, kitten” His voice was hoarse and panting, drop of sweat rolling down his neck into your breasts, hips snapping against yours harshly.
“You– Oh! You’re quite the charmer, Roger” You moaned and giggled as the head of the bed started hitting roughly against the wall, echoing through the flat probably. “James gonna hear us” You whispered, chewing on your lips to not scream in pleasure.
“That’s the point, kitten” He gave you a wink like the cocky bastard he was and tugged on your bottom lip, letting your moans resounded in the bedroom. “Let our good old Jamie hear how good I make you feel, give him a little show kitten. Show him what he missed” Roger wasn’t the most impressive person with his soft features and high pitched voice but when he wanted he could be the hottest thing ever. He knew were he was skilled and didn’t lie about it. You listened to him and let out the dirtiest and filthy moans and whimpers, the name of Roger echoing again and again and again.
You wanted James to hear you, making this asshole regretting this evening, making your waste your time and using you to cheat on his girlfriend.
“Just like that, kitten, sing for me” The drummer cooed, mouth falling against your nipple, tongue twirling around it.
“Wait, wait” You gently pushed his chest away and he furrowed his brows, confused by your sudden gesture. “Wanna ride you, baby” You purred and the hottest little noise fell from his mouth, apparently loving the idea.
He slid out of you and quickly laid on his back, his chest dripping with sweat but you didn’t mind a bit. You didn’t lost any second and sunk on him, bouncing up and down eagerly, chasing your third orgasm of the night. Roger’s gaze were on your breasts, watching them moving in rhythm, his palms stabilizing you by the hips, completely hypnotised by your beauty. Eyes closing in pleasure, mouth parted and hairs sticking everywhere on your face, cheeks flushed by all these...intense exercises.
“So beautiful kitten, so fuckin’ stunning” He complimented you, trailing one of his pads on your neck then sliding it in your mouth and you sucked on it automatically, your eyes back on him. “The hottest gi–“
He stopped himself when he saw the door behind you opening, a flustered James in hallway, gaze glued on your naked body. He was quiet and shocked, not expecting seeing you here.
“Get out of here, fucking weirdo !” Roger groaned when he saw his roomie completely starstruck by the scene. You turned your head and met James’s gaze, jealousy and shame drowning his pupils. You sent him a wink – you were surprised by yourself – and continued to ride Roger, slower and gaze locked with the brunette, moaning quietly. “James, get the fuck out !” The drummer yelled and sat up, his hands covering your ass and his sudden movement made his cock buried further into you.
When James finally woke up from his dazed state, his cheeks were wearing a deep shade of red and he hurried to close the door, without a word. The room fell quiet for solid ten seconds before you bursted into laugher, head shaking against Roger’s shoulder.
“Oh...my...god...his face !” You giggled hysterically, your thumb wiping a tear from to much laughing. “Priceless !”
“I think he is traumatised” The drummer snorted, his ribs were hurting and he was extremely sensitive with his cock still inside you. “Kitten, sto– stop clenching around my dick” He whined and you giggled even more, making him laugh too.
“I’m sorry, I’m– sorry” You panted and brushed a kiss on his shaky lips, slowly calming yourself down. You felt your eyelids becoming heavy and Roger cupped gently your face, pecking several times your smiling mouth.
“Want me to finish, kitten ?” He asked softly and you nodded lazily, you didn’t have more energy to ride him anymore. You slowly moved off from him and laid down, Roger immediately following you. He pushed open your legs with his knee and bent both of your knees, allowing himself space to work. “Jesus, you feel so bloody good” He moaned with a strangle voice when he slid back into you, his lips putting few light kisses on your tired features.
“Oh Rog...I’m so close” You cried, your hands crossed behind his neck, fingers lazily tugging on his locks. Roger’s mouth fell on the shell of your ear, murmuring praises and, in a last deep thrust, you came for the third time this evening. The waves of pleasure rolled over yourself, drowning you in a dizzy but delicious way, mind clouded from the orgasm. “Mmm...”
You smiled stupidly and cooed gently at Roger when he came too, lazy little moans falling from his throat. You both looked at each other, in a strangely intimate way, the two of you sleepy and utterly satisfied. His nose brushed against yours then he gave you a long, sloppy kiss, his lips melting lazily on yours and a low sigh of happiness escaping your mouth.
“Wanna sleep here ? We could continue our activities in the morning...” The drummer murmured in his usual cocky tone, rolling on the other side of the bed. You watched him standing up, eyes following his pretty little bum as he threw in the bin the condom. He winked at you when he caught your gaze. You weren’t sure if it was a good idea to sleep here but the thought of getting more sex tomorrow was very attractive. “And we could tease James a bit more, having a nice awkward breakfast with him” He handed you a bottle of water and you took a big sip, throat dry from the moaning.
“That sound good” You replied and went to the bathroom to pee then cooling down your face with some fresh water. You came back and grinned at Roger’s gaze on you, roaming all the way of your bare body, clearly appreciating the view. “You don’t really like your roomie, hum ?” You slid your knickers on and joined Roger on the bed, only wearing his underwear.
He brought you closer and let one of his hand slowly rubbing against bum, absent-mindedly.
“He is a pain in the ass” The drummer groaned as he switched off the night stand light and wrapped the both of you under the sheets, his eyes already closed. “I’m gonna move with one of my bandmate, I can’t wait. I’m gonna be closer to Uni, it’s good. You’re in Uni, right ?” You hummed in agreement, to lazy to reply verbally. “That’s good to know” He said in a charming voice, his finger playing with your panties’ elastic.
“Perv” You murmured with a little laugh, hand resting on his bare and sweaty chest. “Night Rog” You pressed a small kiss above his pectoral.
“Night, pretty girl”
**
The next morning was difficult. You were deliciously sore, needing to stretch yourself several seconds before leaving the bed. Roger wasn’t really a morning person, you could see it, how hard it was for him to wake up but he looked really cute like that. You washed quickly your face and attached your messy hairs as Roger slid his pants on, the clothe was a bit too big for him, falling loosely on his hips. It was strangely hot. He murmured something about tea and left the bedroom after giving you a little kiss.
You found your blouse somewhere and thankfully it wasn’t too creased so you put it again. It was a large clothe, falling right at the middle of your ass, giving a good view of it. You let the two first button open, just enough to be teasing and made your way to the living-room.
“Morning” You yawned and walked to Roger who was sat on an old chair, a cigarette hanging between his fingers.
He wrapped an arm around your waist and you gently unknotted his locks, earning a soft sigh.
“Sleep well, kitten ?” You nodded and watched James entered the room, a fuming mug in his hand, the journal in the other. He glanced at you, gaze starting a bit too long at Roger’s arm around you and sat on the other chair, clearing awkwardly his throat. “Want a tea, darling ?”
“Yes, please Rog” You replied and pecked quickly his lips before seating on the chair, there were only two of them.
“On it, kitten” He disappeared into the kitchen, his hips rolling lazily as he walked away, his hand scratching his shoulders.
You could feel James looking at you as you pretend to look at yours nails, humming quietly with the radio.
“How could you sleep with my roommate only because I didn’t get hard ?” He spat suddenly and you glanced at him, cocking your head.
“How could you sleep with me when you already have a girlfriend ?” You mimicked in a sarcastic tone and his eyes went wide as dinner plates. He swallowed nervously and blinked few times, surprise that you knew this information.
“It’s not...I...It’s complicated” He muttered with shame and ran a shaky hand on his hairs. “We’re not...She...”
“Yeah, I’m sure it is” You snorted and he stopped talking, bowing his head into his cup and you were savouring his quietness. Roger came back, a smirk on his face and you saw clearly that he heard your conversation, finding it very funny. “Thanks, Rog” You took the cup and stood up, letting the drummer sat before he grabbed your hips, perching you on his lap.
You spent the next fifteen minutes giving James a show, Roger kissing you obscenely, an eternal smirk on his face. His hands caressed your bum without any shame, his tongue meeting yours again and again. It was sloppy and too much, but it was incredibly funny to tease his roommate, he deserved it. James swallowed his breakfast so fast he almost chocked before leaving promptly the flat, his ears red with embarrassment.
“Did you see his face ? I almost feel bad” You giggled against Roger’s mouth.
“You shouldn’t, it was so funny” The drummer gently bit your jaw. “Wanna go shower with me ?”
“I saw your shower Rog, we won’t fit together in this tiny thing” You replied with a pout, tracing the shape of his lips with your digit, he softly nibbled on it.
“Trust me we will fit, kitten” He winked at you and you get up, snorting at his hard-on. He slapped your bum and tugged on your hand, almost running to the bathroom.
You quickly found out that Roger was right about the shower.
**
Permanent Tag list : @jennyggggrrr @luvborhap
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Best Part of Me -Chapter 18
Warnings: none
Tagging: @c-a-v-a-l-r-y, @alievans007, @innerpaperexpertcloud
“Mommy is going to be really mad,” TJ laments from the backseat as they pull into the driveway. “Is that why she didn’t come and get me? Because she’s mad?”
“She’s just tired,” Tyler assures him, as he kills the ignition. “She needs sleep. Having a baby is hard work. And your sister is only three weeks old. Still new.”
“She’s going to be so pissed,” the five-year-old sounds as if he may cry. “She doesn’t like when I get in fights. When I’m bad at school.”
“I think she’s going to understand why you go into this fight. Once you tell her everything and...”
“I can’t tell her! That’ll just make things even worse. Can’t you just tell her I wasn’t feeling well and had to come home?”
“I don’t think that’s going to work, mate. Have you seen your face?”
“That’s going to make her even more mad!” he cries, and then promptly bursts into tears.
Normally he’s the strong, stoic one; very rarely showing even the slightest hint of sadness. Even as a baby he rarely cried, not even for a wet diaper or out of hunger. At three he’d adopted the habit of cracking jokes –even at his own expense- when he felt the threat of tears coming on. Rage and frustration are his two main negative emotions; easily going from laughing and smiling to angry and intense. Possessing a hair trigger temper that’s bad enough on an adult, but extremely troubling and almost terrifying on a little kid.
“She’s not going to be mad,” Tyler assures him. “She might be mad at the kids that messed you up but...”
“I messed them up worse!” TJ snaps, as if offended anything other than victory had been suggested or expected. “Don’t forget that part! I handed them their asses!”
“...but she isn’t going to be mad at you,” his father calmly continues.
Snapping back or letting his own anger or frustration show will do nothing. Other than encourage the kid to escalate his own behavior. It had been a hard thing to learn; not to immediately react when TJ begins acting out. Handling it emotionally and letting his own temper take over just to makes things even worse. According to the therapist, anyway.
“Redirect not escalate”, he can hear her say. “Kids like this need patience and understanding. Not judgement and punishment.” He’d thought it was bullshit at first. That not punishing bad behavior only encouraged it to get worse. It’s how he’d spent his own childhood, after all. Until it had been drilled into his head that there was nothing normal about the way he’d grown up and he needed to ‘break the cycle’.
“You don’t know that!” TJ argues. “That mommy won’t be mad!”
“I’ve known her longer than you have. I know her a bit better. I know what makes her mad and sets her off. I’m a master at pissing her off. And I know she won’t be mad at you. She's going to be a little sad when she sees what your face looks like.”
“That’s even worse! I don’t want mommy to make mommy sad!”
He cries even harder now. Arms folded across his chest, chin tucked into his chest and his eyes closed; entire body shaking with the force of his sobs. If there’s one thing that he is sensitive about, it’s his mother. No one upsets his mother on his watch. And if they dare raise their voice to her or look at her with even the slightest bit of threat in their eyes, he’s the one jumping to her defense. Tanner fits the typical ‘mommy’s boy’ stereotype, but TJ will fuck someone up if they mess with her.
Tyler kills the ignition and waits; giving his son a few minutes to get all the tears and emotions out. He knows better than to even attempt to offer any form of support or comfort, whether it be verbal or physical; the kid hates feeling as if someone is pitying him or seeing him as weak and it will only send him into a blind rage. So he gives TJ the chance to work things out on his own; occasionally glancing at him through the rearview mirror, holding off until the sobbing subsides and the five-year-old gives a long, shaky sigh and then uses the front of his t-shirt to wipe his face.
“You good?” He asks.
TJ nods.
“You wanna go in? See mommy? Tell her what happened?”
“You won’t leave, right? You’ll stay when I tell her?”
“I’ll stay right with you. What do you think she’s going to do to you?”
“Nothing. But I don’t want her to be sad. I hate when mommy’s sad. And she won’t be sad if you’re there.”
He wants to tell him that he’s made mommy sad plenty of times. More than he likes to admit. That he’s made her cry too many times to count and regrets every single tear she’s shed because of him or over him. But he doesn’t; burdening kids with adult problems solves nothing. It only causes more issues. And they have enough of those to deal with.
“Let’s clean you up a bit,” Tyler suggests, as he slides from behind and wheel and steps out, popping open the back door of the truck and reaching for TJ’s backpack. “You got clean clothes in here?”
“I think so. Mommy always remembers to put some in.”
“Good thing one of us has our shit together, yeah? Go in the garage,” he instructs, as he unbuckles the straps on the booster seat and then wraps one arm around his son’s slender body, helping him down to the ground. He’s tall for five; long and lanky, yet solid and strong. “I’ll clean you up in there. That way you look a bit better when mommy sees you.”
“Okay,” TJ agrees, bare feet slapping against the cement of the driveway, stopping momentarily to scoop up that day’s newspaper that the delivery boy had tossed onto the grass, then throwing it at the front door.
Sighing, Tyler closes the truck doors and sets the alarm before joining his son in the garage, peeling off the blood and dirt stained t-shirt and locating the cleanest part possible; wetting in at the sink in the corner and then using it to clear away the dried blood from TJ’s face.
The kid never winces once; not even a single flicker or pain despite the often vigorous scrubbing or the fingertips that poke and prod as they investigate each injury.
“Is it broken?” TJ asks, when his dad presses on the sides of his nose.
“I don’t think so. I don’t think anything’s broken. Any missing teeth? Loose ones?”
“None missing. But...” he pauses as he uses the tip of his tongue to press against each tooth. “A couple loose ones.”
“They’re baby teeth. So they’ll just fall out and you won’t be gruesome toothless for long.”
“Now that’s mean,” TJ giggles, then immediately grows serious. “Am I going to get arrested? Are the police going to come here?”
“Why would the police come here?”
“Because I beat those kids up. I heard what Mrs. Tucker said. About it being assault. That’s a bad thing, right? That’s what police come for. Bad things.”
“You’re five. I think you’ll be able to escape an assault charge. And don’t listen to that stupid bitch.”
TJ’s eyes widen.
“And also don’t tell your mom I called her that.”
“She is though,” TJ concludes.
“A stupid bitch?”
He giggles. “Yeah.”
“The stupidest of bitches,” Tyler agrees, and then tosses the soiled shirt into the hamper before locating a clean one at the bottom of TJ’s school bag. “Feel better?” he asks, as he yanks the item of clothing over his son’s head. “Just a bit?”
TJ nods. “You know what would make me feel even better, though?”
Tyler arches an eyebrow.
“Ice cream.”
Grinning, he lays a hand on the back of his son’s head and gently pushes him towards the door. “Ice cream would make me feel a bit better too.”
***
“So what was it today?” Esme inquires, as she stands at the kitchen island; body swaying from side to side as she holds Addie along her arm, free hand flipping through a stack of mail. Not even glancing up when they step into the room. “Desk tipping? Chair throwing? Calling the teacher a stupid fat cow?”
“In his defense, I’m the one that actually called her that,” Tyler admits. “And it’s bit more than that.” He drops TJ’s school bag on one of the bar stools and then lays a hand on her hip and presses a kiss to her temple. “You might want to give me the baby.”
“Why?” she gives a small, almost nervous laugh, a scowl creeping across her face she looks up at him and sees the seriousness on his face. “It can’t be THAT bad?”
“Trust me on this,” he says, and she places the baby along his arm; Addie’s head nestling into the crook of his elbow. Carrying her across the kitchen and giving a Declan a kiss on the top of his head as he sits snacking in his highchair before tossing open the freezer and taking out the ice cream.
“Mommy...” TJ begins, nervously rocking back and forth on his heels. “...don’t be mad.”
“Why would I...” her eyes widen when she looks at him; taking in the various cuts and bruises that inhabit his face and then rushing to him, kneeling in front of him with one hand on his shoulder, the other gently cupping his cheek. “What happened? What the hell, Tyler?”
“He got into a fight,” her husband responds, as he places Addie in her swing by the sliding door. “No big deal.”
She frowns. “Not you. I wasn’t asking you.”
“You need to actually specify which one of us you’re speaking to when we’re both in the same room,” he reminds her. “Or neither of us will answer because we have no clue who you’re talking to.”
“I got into a fight,” TJ confirms, as she scoops him up and places him on the edge of the island.
“It looks more like someone used you as a punching bag.”
“He looks worse. Much worse. So do the other guys.”
“There was more than one?” Her fingers cautiously survey the damage, the cut across the bridge of his nose and the swelling under the left eye the most concerning.
TJ sticks his bottom between his teeth and nods.
“How many more?”
“A couple.”
“A couple?”
“Four,” he admits.
“Four kids? In your class?”
TJ looks to his father for moral support as he joins them, placing three spoons and three bowls of ice cream on the counter, then handing him an ice pack tucked under his arm.
“Eye,” Tyler gently orders. “It’ll keep the swelling down. And it was four older kids,” he says to his wife, remarkably calm and composed as he leans stomach first against the island and digs into the ice cream.
“How much older?” she asks.
“Grade four,” TJ answers.
She frowns. “You’re five.”
He shrugs. “I’m a bad ass,” he reasons.
Esme stares pointedly at her husband.
“What?” Tyler asks innocently. “Guess he’s got good genes.”
She sighs and turns back to her son. “You fought four kids?”
“I was really only fighting one kid,” TJ explains. “The others jumped me. So I fought them too.”
“All of them? At the same time?”
“And won,” Tyler says, and then shrugs when she glares at him. “Just sayin’.”
“You don’t seem the least bit upset about this,” she observes.
“Why would I be? My kid just took on four other kids and beat their asses. Why would I be upset? I’m proud of him.”
“Have you looked at his face?”
“He’s got a black eye, a split lip, a sore nose and a couple of loose teeth. They’ll fall out and his adult teeth will eventually come in. I don’t see the big deal. I’ve had worse.”
“You’re forty years old,” she points out. “And you used to...well...you know what used to do for a living. Of course you’ve had worse. He’s five!”
“And it won’t be the last time he gets a little messed up. It’s not a huge deal.”
“He could have a concussion,” she argues.
“He does not have a concussion. Did you hit your head?” Tyler directs the question to his son.
“Nope.”
“He doesn’t have a concussion,” he concludes, and returns to the bowl of ice cream in front of him.
“You can get punched hard enough to get a concussion,” Esme reminds him.
“I don’t know how hard you think grade fours hit, but it’s not hard enough to give him a concussion. Would you relax? He’s fine.”
“He doesn’t look fine. Do you have a headache?” she asks TJ.
Tyler sighs in exasperation. “Esme....here...” he pushes on the bowls in front of her. “...relax.”
She scowls. “We should take him to get looked at.”
He can’t help but laugh. “Why? He’s fine. He got into a fight. Stop making a big deal out of it. It won’t be the last fight he gets into, trust me. Millie’s always beating the hell out of him.”
“Why did you get into a fight in the first place?” Esme asks, as she combs her fingers through TJ’s thick, unruly hair and presses a kiss to his forehead.
“The one kid was picking on Tanner,” he explains, as he digs a spoon into the bowl of ice cream his father sets in his lap. “And it made Tanner cry. So I got pissed off and I told the kid to leave him alone. That he’s my brother and no one makes my brother cry. NO ONE.”
Tyler gives a grin of pride and approval, then frowns when his wife digs her elbow into his ribs. “What? I didn’t say anything.”
“You didn’t have to,” she says. “I know what you’re thinking.”
“I’m thinking those little shits fucked with the wrong kid.”
“They deserved it mommy,” TJ pipes up. “They all deserved it. And I’d do it again to protect Tanner. To protect any kid against the bullies. Bad people should be punished for being bad, right? Like daddy used to punish them for hurting good people.”
“Okay, that’s not exactly how his job worked, but...” she sighs. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Mom...” he looks her dead in the eye, suddenly appearing –and sounding- much older and more mature than he is. “...I’m tough. Okay? You don’t have to worry about me. I’m fine.”
“You’re five. Not fifteen,” she reminds him, and then tousles hair. “You need to stop sounding so much like your dad. It’s not a bad thing, it’s just...it makes me nervous. You go and take your ice cream outside so I can talk to daddy for a bit, okay?”
“Is he in trouble?”
“Probably,” Tyler grumbles.
“No one is in trouble. I just need to talk to him. About adult things. No little ears allowed. Got it?”
“Got it,” he agrees, and then jumps down form the island. “Am I grounded?”
“Not this time. You did the right thing. You stuck up for your brother and defended yourself. But you do not...I repeat DO NOT...go around starting fights. Ever. You don’t hit kids for no reason, you don’t pick on anyone, you don’t even look at someone the wrong way. Because you’re freakishly big and strong for a five-year-old and you’re going to seriously hurt someone. Now go outside, finish your ice cream, and then go and see Ovi and tell him he’s invited for dinner.”
“Okay,” TJ says, then gathers up his bowl and scurries away, cheerfully greeting Mac as he steps outside; the dog waking from his nap under the patio table and excitedly rushing to see his favorite little human.
****
“So....” Esme leans against the counter alongside her husband, scooping out a spoonful of ice cream and popping it into her mouth. “Did you kill anyone? Am I aiding and abetting a fugitive?”
“I behaved myself. No blood was shed. I promise.”
“What about tears? Did you make anyone cry? At least tell me you made someone cry. Or shit their pants. Both would be a bonus.”
“I might have made the principal cry. Or shit himself. I’m not sure. He wouldn’t even come out of his office. Totally threw the secretary under the bus.”
“Mrs. Tucker,” Esme scoffs. “That stupid bitch.”
Tyler grins. “Look at that. There ARE things we agree on.”
“She’s so condescending. Every time I go in there, she starts talking to me like I’m one of the students.”
“Well in her defense, you are smaller than most of the kids there,” he teases.
“Don’t make me take out my small people rage on you. I’ve spent thirty-five years not being able to reach the bottom of the washing machine or being able to get things off high shelves. I’ve got a lot of pent up anger over that shit, so don’t you start with me.”
“And you say I need anger management. Everyone thinks TJ gets it from me. I think we both know where he really gets it from.”
“I don’t think he got any of my DNA,” she frowns. “So did you? Make Mrs. Tucker cry? She’s terrified of you.”
“She was ballsy today. She actually tried to scold me. For my bad language.”
“How bad was your language?”
“First I called the other kid an asshole. Then I called him a little prick.”
“Normally I’d balk at calling kids names like that, but in this case, I think you were justified. She tried to scold you, huh?” Esme grins. “That must have gone over well. Did you make her wet her pants? Did you give her ‘the look’?”
“Which look? I have about twenty.”
“More like forty. I’ve counted them. But you know the one I’m talking about. Mille and the twins all have it. That one that clearly says you’re tired of someone’s shit and ready to show hands.”
“In that case, yes. I gave her ‘the look’.”
“And the principal never came out?”
“Nope.”
Esme snorts. “What a pussy!”
“I don’t know what his issue is. I’m not that scary.”
“Sure you’re not,” she laughs. “You’re so scary, Chuck Norris sleeps with a nightlight on.”
Tyler smirks. “Now that’s a good one.”
“So what they say? What’s the punishment?”
“They wanted to suspend him for four days. But I wouldn’t sign that papers until all the little pricks got in trouble too. Why is our kid the only one catching shit when all he was going was standing up for his brother? And defending himself when the other little fucks jumped him.”
“Think this is the elementary school version of the Goonies from hell?”
Tyler laughs at that. “That’s exactly what they are. The Australian version of Farhad and his buddies.”
“We have to find something to laugh about when it comes to Dhaka, right?”
He nods in agreement. “Secretary said the other parents will want an apology.”
“Fuck them.”
“And that they could press charges.”
“Give me a break. He’s five.”
“It’s still assault. She’s right about that.”
“Well if that’s assault, then so is what they did to him. They jumped a five-year-old. Who turned around and beat the hell out of them.”
“Millie said it was...and this is a direct quote from our daughter...’fucking awesome’. Is it wrong that I would have loved to have seen that? Just watch him destroy those kids. He’s in kindergarten and he’s taking on older kids. A group of them. At the same time. And he’s winning. Now come on, that’s impressive.”
“And did you hear what he just said? About teaching bad people a lesson? I wonder he gets THAT from.”
“I know you hate when I say this about any of them, but that kid is all me. There’s no denying whose DNA was more powerful when he was made.”
“No one wants to hear about your stellar genes or your super sperm or whatever you’re going to say next.”
“No one,” he grins. “Meaning you. Don’t be bitter about this. I’m sorry your genes just could not compete that day. That they didn’t show up until the very last one. It’s not my fault that they were asleep at the wheel.”
“I’m going to smother you in your sleep one day and no one will be the wiser. They’ll probably sympathize me, actually. That poor girl; putting up with his bullshit for so long. No wonder she didn’t do it sooner.”
“Listen, anyone who knows you, knows you don’t put it with bullshit. And that I’m one who’s been putting up with yours for almost seven years. Don’t act all innocent. You’re tiny but you take no shit from anyone. Like one of those dogs people carry around in their purses. They look all cute and sweet, but they’ll take out your Achilles tendon and then go for your jugular once you’re down.”
“One day Tyler...” she muses with a dramatic sigh. “...one day I will bring you down. You’ll be begging for mercy when I finally get a hold of you.”
“You’ve had me begging before, so...”
“Okay, during sex does not count. I’m talking about making you beg for mercy. Because the next time you compare me to some angry animal...”
“So I can’t ever bring out the comparison to a honey badger?”
“I will seriously kick you in the nuts! “
“Considering how short you are, it’d have to be a head butt.”
“Do you want to see your forty first birthday?” She laughs, and he chuckles and wraps an arm around her shoulders, drawing her into his, lips pressing against her temple. “Do you think they will?” she asks, turning serious once again. “Want to press charges?”
“I doubt it. They’ll be embarrassed when they find out a kindergarten kid that’s still afraid of the dark beat the fuck out of their spawn. At the same time.”
“You’re a little too proud about that.”
“I’m so fucking proud of that kid I could cry,” Tyler admits.
Esme rolls her eyes.
“I wouldn’t be surprised if the school calls the child protection people again. Because I’m too ‘aggressive’ and a ‘bad influence’. I’ll fucking show them aggressive if they show up here. I’ve got lots of property I can hide bodies on.”
“Okay, how about we NOT kill the child services person. Chances are they won’t even show up because last time they found nothing against us, and they were pissed at the school for wasting their time. So...” she carries their dirty dishes to the sink, then stands behind him and curls back around his waist and rests her head against his back. “...let’s not even think about that. I’m proud of you. For handling things as well as you did. I thought for sure you’d have an anxiety attack going there. But you held in there and kicked some ass. Maybe not literally, but still. You did awesome, baby. Progress!”
“Do I get a gold star on the chore chart chore of it?” he chides. “I think I’m on three out of five days of good behavior and responsibilities met.”
“Oh, I’ll give you something later for it,” she promises. “You do realize that even though this time was justified, our son still has issues, right?”
Tyler sighs. “I know. He takes after me, yeah? Of course he has issues.”
“Baby, he’s five and he’s been through a lot and he’s having a hard time processing it all. This has nothing to do with you. Stop beating yourself up over things you can’t control. You didn’t do this to Tyler in the same way you didn’t do something that made Austin sick. Have you had that dream again?”
“Not since we talked about it. Doesn’t mean I’m not thinking about it. Obsessing over shit. About her turning six. But no. I haven’t had the dream since that night.”
“Then stop. Please. Stop hating yourself for things that are beyond your control. You’re not a horrible person, Tyler. You’re a good person who has had to some horrible things.”
“You have a lot of faith in me.”
“Well, I kind of like you a little bit, so...”
“We’ve moved up to like, huh?” he teases, as he turns around to face her, hands settling on her hips. “Only took almost seven years to get past the tolerating me stage.”
“Don’t push it. There’s days where my tolerance level is pretty low. Because let me tell you, as cute as you are, there are times where you just drive me absolutely batshit insane.”
“But you’d miss me. If you woke up one day and I was gone.”
“I don’t even like hearing you joke about that. That is not something I like to think about, let alone talk about. Especially now that we’ve got this Ovi bullshit hanging over our heads and the very real possibility that you’re going to get back into things and...”
“And we’re not going to worry about that shit unless we have to,” he finishes for her. “Stop,” he implores, taking her face in his hands and kissing her softly. “We are nowhere near anything like that going down. That’s weeks away. If not months. It isn’t going to happen overnight. So I need you to stop thinking about it, okay?”
Esme nods, but the tears sparkling in her eyes gives away her true feelings.
“Don’t do that. Please. Don’t look at me like that,” he begs, and places a palm on the back of her head and pulls her into him. “Everything is going to be okay. It might not even come to that. Me having to leave.”
Her arms wrap around his waist, hands sliding under the bottom of his t-shirt and her index fingers hooking around the belt loops on his jeans. “I know you’re trying out the whole optimistic gig, but when you actually don’t sound optimistic, it doesn’t work very well. This shouldn’t even be happening. We shouldn’t even have to worry about this. It was supposed to be behind us.”
“I know. And I’m sorry. That this is shit is even happening. It’s not what I wanted. Trust me.”
“It’s not exactly your fault. You didn’t put all that crap in Ovi’s head. I just didn’t want you dragged back into this. Not now. Not ever. We have five kids that need you. Why didn’t he think of that? Of the people here that need you to come home safe and sound.”
“Because he’s a fucking drongo, that’s why. But you know what? There’s a chance I won’t even have to go anywhere. And that’s the chance I need you to think about. Can you do that? For me? Start thinking about how I may NOT have to go instead of convincing yourself that I AM going. Because one of us needs to be the strong one right now, and if I’m totally honest, I don’t feel like being that person.”
“You don’t have to be,” she says. “You know that. You don’t have to always be strong, Tyler. Sometimes you need someone to be strong for you. That that’s okay. No matter what someone told you or what you saw or heard growing up, there’s nothing wrong with NOT being strong. And fuck anyone who ever made you feel otherwise. Your father, Gaspar. Fuck them both.”
“I’m so fucking pissed,” he admits. “At Ovi. At Nik. At everyone and everything. I’m angry and I’m frustrated, and you know what? I’m fucking terrified. Because I don’t know if I can do that shit anymore. The job. I don’t know if I have it in me. Physically or mentally. And if I fuck up even in the smallest way, I’m NOT coming home. And that scares me the most.”
She tightens her hold on him; fingers releasing the belt loops and now gripping the back of his shirt, face buried in his chest. “It’s okay,” she says. “To be scared. You can be scared with me, Tyler.”
Dropping a kiss on the top of her head, he buries his face in her hair and closes his eyes. It’s comforting; the feel of her body pressed against his, the smoothness of her skin and the heat that radiates off of it, the familiar scent that clings to her hair. There are so many little things that he tends to take for granted. The way she’ll stand on the top of his feet to kiss him because she thinks those couple of inches gained make a remarkable difference. How she’ll just wander into the gym in the middle of a workout and not say a word or even make eye contact with him yet leave a bottle of water where he can find it. Or how she’ll just silently reach for his hand and hold it while they sit on the patio outside of their bedroom and watch the sunrise together.
Little things he’d miss in a huge way if they suddenly ceased to exist.
#tyler rake#tyler rake fan fiction#tyler rake fan fic#best part of me#extraction#chris hemsworth character
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Door 3
You swallowed back your feelings of uncertainty, carefully approaching the door that had gained your attention. You knocked, then waited for a response, only to receive none. As bad as you felt for invading the riders' privacy like this, your curiosity propelled you forward anyway, and soon enough, you found your hand grasping the knob. Giving a gentle twist and nudging the door open just enough to peek inside, you called out, announcing your presence and asking for permission to come in. Once again though, there was none.
Your shoulders sank a bit in defeat and you furrowed your brows; you'd come all this way, your curiosity and determination to get to know each of the riders driving you. Chewing on your bottom lip, you silently contemplated your options for a moment, deciding against simply walking away. You were going to enter anyway, and you were going to look around. As long as you weren't digging through the dresser or rifling through papers, you'd be forgiven... right?
[You selected: Door 3]
Now entering: Pestilence's room
~~~
Carefully pushing the door open and inviting yourself inside, you paused to flick on the overhead light before nudging the door shut behind yourself again. Glancing around the room, you arched a brow, taking in your new surroundings; the bed, as you'd been expecting, wasn't made. The sheets and blankets were pushed down toward the end of the bed and bunched up, and the small stack of pillows even laid carelessly strewn about.
Approaching the bed, your eyes settled on a small picture frame that occupied the bedside table. Delicately picking the item up, you furrowed your brows and frowned; in the photo was a set of brothers. One was tall and lanky, sporting a brilliant crimson scarf and a bright smile, while the other was short and appeared to be a bit rounder. He was clad in a pair of untied tennis shoes, basketball shorts, and a baggy hoodie, all worn beneath a long, oversized lab coat. A pair of large and thin glasses with circular frames were taped onto his skull and his grin was more lazy, almost making him appear tired.
The top drawer of his bedside table was open the smallest bit, and gripped by curiosity, you set down the picture of the brothers in favor of tugging open the drawer. Neatly folded and tucked inside was a bundle of red fabric, which was nearly identical to the shade of the taller brother's scarf that you'd seen in the photo. Reaching out, you gently traced your fingers over it, taking in how soft it felt. As you pulled your hand away, however, you became aware of the dust that now clung to your skin. Knowing the significance of dust, your eyes widened and you hurriedly pushed the drawer shut, attempting to brush the dust off of your hand.
Feeling satisfied after a moment and taking a few seconds to calm yourself, you let out a deep breath, glancing around the room again. Clothes had been scattered across his floor, and you were unsure if they were supposed to be clean or dirty. Not wanting to touch the potentially dirty clothes, you stepped around them, crossing the room to look at some books that lined a shelf.
The books were sparse and some laid on their sides, but from the looks of it, they were mostly joke books, books on a variety of science stuff, and books filled with puzzles and word games. You didn't take Pestilence as the type who liked reading, so finding a collection of books in his room was a bit of a surprise.
On the floor next to the bookshelf was a chest, and you tilted your head, squatting and leaning closer to get a better look at it. There was a series of locks lining the front, meaning you wouldn't be able to see what it contained. Damnit. The curiosity would eat you alive, and you already knew it.
Standing again, you approached the rider's desk. A small lamp occupied the corner, and a decent amount of papers, pencils, and pens laid scattered across the surface. A ruler and eraser also laid atop the desk, over top the corners of what looked like a blueprint for some sort of device. Your eyebrows became knit in confusion; just what was the device? What was it supposed to do?
On an attached shelf was a thick, heavy looking book. Humming softly, you gingerly lifted it, lying it on the desk and flipping to a random page, finding numerous pictures filling plastic sleeves. The first one to catch your attention was of a skeleton in thick, bulky sunglasses. He wore a large, goofy grin, showing off a single gold tooth while his arm was around the shoulders of a rather... irritated water elemental. On the next page was a photo of a purple clad skeleton with heart shaped eye lights, his arms around another skeleton who was covered in errors and glitches, a scowl fixed on his face. You flipped several pages ahead, stopping as a picture of a pair of humans appeared.
There was a girl with medium length, bright blue hair. Her wide grey eyes were lined with dark makeup and her rather pale face was flushed pink as a boy standing beside her pressed a kiss to her cheek. The boy had a tanned complexion, his face also flushed. A pair of large, square glasses rested on the bridge of his nose, and his eyes were squeezed tightly shut, messy dark hair curling in every direction atop his head. They were cute together, but you weren't sure you knew who they were.
A rat scurried past you and squeaked, and you jumped, your entire body jolting in surprise. Processing that it was only a rat, you let out a deep sigh, trying to calm your racing your. It was just a rat. Nothing to be worried about. It's not like Pest was back already-
From behind you, someone cleared their throat, and you mentally cursed at yourself. Slowly withdrawing your hand from the photo album, you reluctantly turned to face its owner, who stared at you with a raised brow bone and a hand on his hip. He tilted his head, his tone completely even and calm, "So. Is there any particular reason why you're in my room, going through my old pictures?"
You began attempting to explain what was going on, telling the skeleton that you'd come here because you were curious about him and only wanted to learn about him more. That you'd come such a long way and didn't think you could simply leave when you found the room empty.
His gaze was locked on you as he slowly nodded, processing what he'd been told, "So let me get this straight... You let yourself in and started rifling through my stuff, because you wanted to get to know me better?" Fully aware of how bad that sounded, you made a sound of confirmation, practically radiating guilt as you admitted that you should've just gone away and come back some other time. He hummed in agreement, "Yeah, you should've. It's awfully rude of you to go invading people's privacy like this. Makes me almost kinda wanna go to your house and go through everything in your room, just so you can see how uncool it is."
You hung your head in shame, silent for a moment before you all but hurled yourself in his direction, wrapping your arms around him. Pulling him into a tight hug, you began to apologize profusely, and working past his momentary shock, he sighed, awkwardly returning the hug and patting your back, "Hey, hey, dude, cut it out. I don't appreciate the invasion of privacy, but I'm not gonna strike you dead or anything. Just... this is a warning, I guess. All I ask is that you don't do this again."
You agreed not to let yourself into his room again without permission and he pulled away from the hug, reaching up into his other sleeve to dig into a pouch, withdrawing a vial of the antidote to his touch. He offered it to you and you eagerly accepted it, quickly uncapping the vial and gulping down the bittersweet contents. Returning the empty vial, you thanked him, and then turned to begin walking toward the door.
You briefly paused, your hand curling around the knob as you turned to glance at him, saying your goodbyes. Having already removed his sash and belt, he tugged his hoodie off, a bulky, beaded necklace around his neck. In its design, you wondered if the necklace was made by a child. Pestilence made a soft sound of acknowledgement, returning the goodbyes.
Tugging the door open and exiting the room, you gently shut the door behind yourself. You hadn't expected him to show up so suddenly, and when he had, you thought he would've infected you on the spot as punishment of some sort. The fact that he kept his distance and then even gave you an antidote was mildly surprising, and you made a mental note to thank him again later.
#writing#undertale#undertale au#four horsemen of the apocalypse#riders of the apocalypse#pestilence.exe#room exploration
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My Everything~ Lucas
Summary: Bad dreams of losing you made put fear in his heart
Pairing: Lucas X Reader
Warning: Angst character death though it's a dream, fluff
Admin Winnie🐻
Your hands gripped onto his, as the chill of the cities breeze passed over the bare skin of your legs. Your eyes gleamed up at him, the sharpness of his jaw made you lips itch with the want of the feeling of the stubble the trailed across his skin. As if he felt your stare, he turned away from the conversation he was in the middle of and smiled down at you. His fingers squeezing yours as he leans down to have his lips press against yours making you smile. The soft feeling of his lips made your hand move to his chest and press against the base of his neck, his hand moving to cup your cheek when you hear gagging making you fight to roll open your eyes.
"Love birds, come on!" Taeyong called out, making your eyes flip open as the two of you finally pull away from each other, there stood the grey-haired man with a small playful smile on his face. Lucas large hand slides from your cheek down to around your waist, the feeling of his fingers gripping at the top of your ripped up shorts had your heart speeding up as you look back up at him. Nothing in your mind making sense, with the feeling of his fingertips brushing your skin as the two of you step up to the ticket booth.
"End Game, right?" His deep voice was breathed into your ear,a jump from you made him chuckle as he smiled once again down at you.
"Yeah, End Game." You whisper making him nod as he moved forward his warmth slipping from your body making your heart finally slow as if it felt like you could finally catch your breath. You stand back watching as the ticketer handed him the two tickets as he looked to you, taking a step forward. The feeling of his fingers grabbing your back pocket and pulling you back to his side made you giggle as he nudged against the top of your head as you catch up to the waiting boys. "Think it's gonna be worth the hype?" He asked as the two of you walk into the slightly warmer movie theater.
"I mean I hope." You say looking up at him, he couldn't help but look at you as you two walked to the food convention stand. His eyes watching you look around the theater with wide bright eyes, the different movie posters catching your attention as you finally stop inline the salty smell of popcorn making you roll your bottom lip between your teeth. Taeyong moving up behind you suddenly making you jump and make a squeal of noise when his cold hands touched your waist
"Oh, my Y/n-ah." He chuckled as your glared at him your hand moving forward to slap his chest. Lucas gripped his stomach as he watched the scene unfold, a smile gracing his face as he watched you interact with his friends.
"I might have a bad knee but I still have a good foot to shove up your ass." You mumbled making Mark spit out the laugh he had been holding back, Jungwoo had looked at you with wide eyes as Lucas jumps in. His arm sliding across your waist as his nose brushed against the base of your neck, his warm breath fanned against your skin making you shiver slightly.
"Come on baby, let's get some candy and popcorn." His voice brought a small smile lifts onto your lips, your hand moving to his arm as the two of you order, pulling away to grab a drink making him pout as you chuckle. Jungwoo nudged you with his hip making you look at the brown-haired boy with a small smile and a raised eyebrow.
“Yes?” You question moving to the side to place a lid onto your cup, he gives you his toothy smile as he looks at you.
“He really loves you, you know that right?” His words made your smile grows, your ears burn and your heart hammer against your chest, it felt like it was even gonna try and reach up and out of your throat.
“Well, I really love him.” You said look at Jungwoo then turning your head, your eyes catching his tall lanky body waiting for you with popcorn and candy, talking with Mark and Taeyong. You couldn’t help the smile grow on your face as you swallow, quickly looking back at the older man with a smile. “I really do.”
“I can tell.”
The night becoming nothing but laughs and memories with Lucas and your friends that you could never forget. On the drive home, you were enjoying jamming out to the new Got7 song, the beat making you nod your hand as his hand laced with yours as the other was resting on the steering wheel. Suddenly a blaring light in your eyes, a jerk, sound a breaking glass and a car horn. All Lucas could see when he opened his eyes was your bleeding head eyes opened but there was no life behind, making him shake his head as tears build up in his eyes.
“No, no no baby wake up.” He whimpered his hand moving to your shoulder, blood smeared against his hand as he moved, ignoring the throbbing pain in his neck. “Baby? Y/n...Y/n please please baby I need you so much..wake up.”
“Y/n!’ He woke up to gasps of air, reaching his lungs, he was in his room in his bed uninjured. No pain at all, but when he laid back down his hand reached for you, and you were gone making him jump up and look around, your side of the bed was cold his eyes wide as he jumped out of bed in a rush and into the hall. "Y/n!" His voice called out, the morning sun hitting your bare thighs as you sat on the ledge of one of the windows of his studio apartment. Your hands placed your phone down as you looked up, his voice full of panic as you say his bare-chested frame stumble from his bedroom. His brown mocha eyes wide as he looked around, they even looked puffy and read as if he was crying, and that thought was confirmed with his sniffle and his had whipping at his cheek.
"Baby?" You called making his eyes quickly catch you, his body unfreezing, as he quickly moved to where you sat landing onto his knees. His arms pulling you into his grasp, your toes sliding against the concrete floor as his head nuzzles into your chest. Your hands reach around his head, finding their way into his hair as you felt a wet spot build upon his shirt you had stolen making your eyes widen as he slipped closer, between your legs as his hands tighten around your hips. "Hey, Lu, baby what's wrong?" You mumbled pulling his head away from your chest, though he fought it when you did you wanted to shove him right back in and hold him closer than before. There he sat, bloodshot eyes matched tear-stained cheeks and nothing but a puffy face and lips pouting as he looked at you. Scanned every single feature as he let out a choked sob. “Oh, baby.” You whispered making him fall back into your chest, his hands gripping the fabric around you tightly as he took a deep breath in, his body shaking.
“Bad.. a bad dream.” he whimpered out making you softly huff, your nose pushing against the top of his head, taking a deep breath in as one of your hands slid down to his shoulders. “You..you weren’t..and then I woke up and you-” He couldn’t catch his breath making you tighten your grip around him, your body sliding off of the ledge into his awaiting lap as he held onto you.
“Hey..hey I’m right here, I’m holding you right now and I’m not going anywhere..ever..okay I love you so much Lucas it’s not even funny.” Your words seemed to have soothed him enough to pull away and look at you, a small smile lifting on the corners of his mouth as he looked at you. His eyes stayed on you, his head moving up making you bend down to meet halfway, forehead against forehead, noses brushing as your hands move to cup his cheeks as you smile down at him.
“You're my everything..literally my everything I don’t know what I would do without you anymore.”
#nct#nct 127#nct u#nct dream#nct wavy#superm#wayv yangyang#wayv winwin#wayv hendery#wayv xiaojun#wayv kun#wayv ten#wayv lucas#wayv xuxi#wayv x reader#wayv x you#nct lucas#lucas x you#lucas x reader#wayv fluff#wayv angst#wayv smut#lucas fluff#lucas smut#lucas angst
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bumbleby fic: pretending i was made for you
[prompt: an au where your eyes turn the same color as your soulmate's aura when you first meet/make eye contact with them. Blake and Yang don't realize they're soulmates because that's already their natural eye color. also inspired by @wishcircuit]
Yang’s fourteen the first time she meets her soulmate. It’s young, by most standards; the average time frame is somewhere between eighteen and thirty-five, though outliers aren’t exactly rare. It’s supposed to be simple, instantaneous: you lock eyes with the love of your life and your irises flush with the color of home, of serenity, of belonging. It’s the story of every fairytale, the subject of every rom-com. All anyone wants is to exchange gazes with a pretty stranger and discover the rest of their life.
Eyes are the window to the soul, Summer had always said playfully when she was still a child. Your eyes change color when you’ve found your soulmate, because windows don’t just allow us to look out - they reflect what’s looking in.
I don’t get it, Yang would always complain back. I like my eyes. They’re purple. They’re pretty.
Summer would laugh. They are, she’d agree. But you might like them more when they’re the color of what you love.
Yang never really understands her. She always loves the lilac of her eyes, loves them like darkening sunsets, like flourishing gardens, like the gemstones she sees bound into jewelry. She never grows out of it, never hits a year where she finds a color she thinks of loving more.
There’s a reason for that.
Yang’s fourteen the first time she meets her soulmate. It’s not that rare. What is rare about it is the fact that neither of them know until much, much later.
--
It’s their first day at Signal Academy. She’s wearing the same uniform as everybody else, blazer on, collar buttoned, tie fitted and proper. Weiss keeps chattering nervously under her breath - there’s so many new people, she keeps saying, how will I even know, what if my eyes change and I don’t notice for another two classes - and Blake only shrugs, humoring the rant.
“You’re supposed to feel it, too, aren’t you?” she says. “Like, it’s not just that your eyes change. I’m sure there’s more to it than that.”
“Like I’m just supposed to know?” Weiss says dramatically, as if it’s a test she hadn’t studied for, a novel she’d left unfinished.
Blake’s about to open her mouth, snarky reply already sitting on her tongue - isn’t that the point of a soulmate, that you look at them and feel - when a girl bumps lightly into her side as they’re piling into the auditorium, immediately turning to apologize. Her repentant smile’s already in place, blonde hair long and spiraling down her spine, but the minute she meets Blake’s eyes, every word dies on her lips.
The world ends, actually. There’s no ground left for Blake to walk on, no path forward. There’s no school, no students, no sky, no sun - those last two are suddenly standing in front of her, bottled up in the form of a tall, somewhat lanky girl with her backpack slung over one shoulder, collar unbuttoned, tie loose around her neck. She’s staring, staring the same way Blake is, her irises the color of thunderstorms reflecting over water - the lilac of them the same heaviness of clouds - she reminds Blake of a place she’s lived before, of a solitude, of a home--
“Blake?” Weiss calling her cuts abruptly through her reverie. “What are you doing?”
“Blake?” the girl repeats softly, a voice she swears she remembers, something ancient and vivid, something beyond the breadth of time.
“Yes,” Blake says breathlessly. “And - you’re…?”
“Yang,” she says, and her name sounds like the only right note Blake’s ever heard.
“Yang,” she echoes, lips curling shyly. “Hi.”
“Hi,” Yang says back, also nervous but too pretty to look like it. Sure, she’s a little lanky, still growing into herself, but she’s - fuck, she’s the most beautiful person Blake’s ever seen; there’s no way she isn’t - there’s no way this--
“What color are my eyes?” Blake blurts out, needing confirmation. Her heart pounds against her chest like something trapped and flightless.
“Gold,” Yang says, but no, that’s wrong, that’s all wrong. “Mine?”
“Lavender,” Blake says, and sees Yang’s expression dip into a similar subtle confusion.
“That--” Yang starts, stops, falters with her bottom lip pulled into her mouth. “That can’t be right.”
Blake’s nails are digging into her palms. “I know.”
“Blake,” Weiss says again, having pushed her way backwards through the crowd. “What’s wrong with you?” She stops, hand curling around Blake’s upper arm, taking in the source of her arrest. “Who’re you?”
“Yang,” Blake answers for her, dry and cracking. “This is Yang.”
“Okay,” Weiss says slowly, clearly noticing something amiss but having no physical proof of it. “Well, Yang, I’m Weiss. If you’d like to join us for the welcome assembly, feel free.”
“Sure,” Yang says, gaze dropping low. Her bottom lip is red from the way she’d gnawed on it, struck by what Blake hopes is the same intensity. “That’d be nice.”
They don’t speak again until they’re seated on a bench the third row from the top, listening idly to the chatter of the other students; Weiss wraps up a boy with blue hair into a conversation, recognizing Blake’s apparently lost her bite. Even if she pries later, Blake won’t know what to tell her. Everything’s changed, somehow; everything’s changed except the one thing that matters.
“It’s funny,” Yang finally says, blonde hair swinging over her shoulder and not quite managing to hide the sadness of her smile. “The way everyone talks about soulmates - I swear it should’ve been you.”
--
It doesn’t stop them. It doesn’t even come close.
They wind their way into each other’s lives, tighter than rope, thicker than thread. There used to be all this empty space, all these closed doors and alleyways, and now it’s Blake who lives there, takes it over with a crooked smile and sharp jab. Yang can’t get enough of her, can’t even remember what she did before Blake bumped into her life.
Weiss picks up on it easily, allows Yang into their friendship without a complaint, like dusting off a chair that always had her name on it and saying sit. Blake doesn’t trade her in, and that’s what counts, even if every other free moment she has is spent wrapped up in Yang’s arms. That’s the part they don’t talk about.
It’s too hard to be around Blake without touching her, magnetized, polarized. Yang links their fingers, watches the blood rise to the surface of Blake’s cheeks, wants to believe that belongs to her while simultaneously knowing it doesn’t. It’s an uphill battle, the burden of fate and recognizing it exists - if Blake is meant for someone else, how can Yang reconcile feeling anything at all?
Blake’s on the phone with her dad out back, begging him for permission to spend the night; Weiss’s parents never seem to care what she’s out doing and permission is assumed. Tai’s taking Ruby to tour some fancy school up north and they have the house to themselves. Sometimes Yang likes to be alone; or she used to. Now her version of alone always ends in company.
Weiss is scrolling through her phone distractedly when Yang finally breaks; it’s been five months and a lifetime. She can’t believe she’s still so young.
“Do you think you can love someone even if you’re not supposed to?” she asks, staring blankly up at the ceiling. It doesn’t come out exactly the way she wants it to, but nothing ever does.
Weiss pauses, doesn’t lift her eyes from her phone, though her finger stops flicking. She’s silent for a long time, long enough that Yang doesn’t think she’s going to answer at all, focusing on Blake’s pleading voice in the yard with her eyes shut. She’s almost dozed off to it, drifting like a tide she’s on, when--
“I don’t know,” Weiss says quietly, uncertainly. Yang snaps her eyelids open, tilts her head up; Weiss has dropped her phone entirely, fingers toying with a loose thread on the blanket draped across the couch. “I...I used to think a lot of things until I met you, until I saw you with Blake. And now - now I don’t know.”
Yang’s too afraid to ask her what she means and so she doesn’t. Blake transitions into relief and appreciativeness, glancing at Yang through the glass with her heart sitting on her lips, smile spread wide.
“Yeah,” Yang echoes, her own mouth stretching in response, crinkling the corners of her eyes. It isn’t the first time Yang thinks about forever, but it’s the loudest. “I don’t know, either.”
--
They make it another two years. Later on, Yang’ll laugh and call it a miracle they even made it that long without snapping, without the string between them looping itself around and tying them together. Yang lives in her bed, in her room, in her eyes - she rides her bike over on weekends with a backpack and doesn’t leave until Sunday nights, learns how to crack an egg one-handed from Ghira, lets Kali teach her about soil and what grows best when. They spend a memorable afternoon planting flowers in the nooks of the garden; it’s an illusion, Kali explains. I want it to feel like so much is blooming it’s pouring out of the frame. Like a painting that extends past its canvas.
Yang presses her playfully against the back of the bathroom door, streak of dirt still on her cheek, skin somewhat sweaty. “That’s you,” she says, and Blake’s heart is somewhere buried in that garden. Her smile sits lopsided, honest. “Like there’s so much of you in me I can’t contain it.”
“Yang,” Blake says helplessly, her irises a softer color than any single one of those budding petals. “You can’t - you can’t say shit like this.”
“Why not?” Yang asks, and Blake thumbs the dirt on her cheek, spreads her palm against her face, and gives up entirely.
When she kisses Yang, well, that’s when she knows the universe is out of tricks - there’s nothing that can possibly prepare her for the devastating perfection of it, the rush of watching a falling sky, the flash of a collapsing sun, the taste of the ocean sitting on her lip. Blake kisses her and Yang swallows her heart whole, cups it carefully in her own chest. Her soul shoves everything out of the way, declutters. It’s you, she thinks. It should’ve been you. Blake kisses her and wonders how much of love belongs to her.
Yang hears her thoughts like she writes them down, speaks them aloud; she catches her mouth again, tangles her fingers through Blake’s hair. “All of it,” she murmurs. “All of it’s yours, and all of mine’s yours, too.”
“Don’t,” Blake whispers, her lifeline pressed against Yang’s heart, her own heart, where the both of them are beating as one.
“Too late,” Yang says, drawing so close she blurs to nothing.
--
They’re too far gone to stop. Yang turns out the lights when it’s time for bed and they’re wide awake in the night, overcome by all its potential for secrets and possibilities, denial and destruction. Yang kisses her again, sucks hotly on her bottom lip, and Blake’s spine arches. Yang wedges a knee between her thighs, crouches over her. She looks like something dark and mystical, blonde hair wild and muscles defined, moonlight catching in her curves. “Fuck fate,” Yang breathes against her mouth, fingers tugging at the hem of her shirt. “If I’m not meant for you, then I’m not meant for anyone.”
Blake swallows against the tears until Yang’s steady enough to distract her from them, teeth nipping at her pulse point, followed by a flattened tongue. Blake tilts her head back, gasps, finds the stars in her veins, finds her skin like a compass, wants to pull herself apart and say here, here, here; I swear you’ve been here.
“Yang,” she breathes out, fingers knotting in Yang’s hair, and prepares to pour forever. It’s Yang. There’s always going to be something left. “I love you,” she chokes out, hit with wave after wave after wave. “I love you. I love you.”
“I know,” Yang whispers, smoothes her bangs away from her forehead, lips red and wet in the dim light. Blake drags her down, tastes herself on Yang’s mouth. “I love you, too.”
“If we aren’t soulmates,” Blake says, “we must be so much more than that.”
“Show me,” Yang says, touches their temples together, and Blake swallows, her fingers slipping over skin.
--
They know Weiss knows, but she never says anything about it. She’s the one who finds them in their quiet moments alone, orbiting each other and redefining gravity. Yang steps up behind her in the kitchen and stretches for a mug, the space between them collapsing itself as if it refuses to be the reason they can’t touch. Blake reaches for her hand between classes and it reeks of more intimacy than sex, their fingers intertwining and tugging closer. Weiss’s blush sits delicately in her cheeks and she turns away.
They’re studying in Blake’s bedroom one evening. Blake’s resting with her head in Yang’s lap, book between her hands, and Yang’s stroking her fingers through her hair. Occasionally she dips to Blake’s cheekbone, her jawline; Blake only tilts her head to the side, allowing it. When Weiss leaves tonight, she knows Yang won’t. The bed sits behind them, hastily made, pillows askew. Weiss tries not to picture them and fails, thinks of them melting together and smearing like paint, thinks of the stubbornness of their eyes and how much it must hurt to see them as they’ve always been.
She’s never met soulmates like them. She’s never met anything like them. It’s so effortless, so right for something so wrong; she holds the world in her hand and rips a piece of it up like paper, unravels it one layer at a time. There’s a truth somewhere. There’s a love that can exist for them, a destiny that allows it. There must be.
Yang glances up, catches her staring. “What?” she asks softly; Blake’s dozed off on her, book resting against her ribs.
“If I don’t end up with what you and Blake have,” Weiss whispers, troubled, “then I don’t think I want it.”
--
They follow each other to Beacon, of course; it’s the next logical step from Signal. The entrance exams aren’t as tough as they’re made to believe they’ll be, but there are all kinds of bizarre in-betweens - at one point their fingers are pricked for their blood types, and another has an eye-scan to mark their bonds and the strength of them, though Yang has no idea how any of that works - and then they’re sent home to wait for a week while results are processed.
All three of them are accepted; Blake and Yang are miraculously placed in the same dorm, share all the same classes - who’d you fucking bribe for that, Weiss snarks exhaustedly as she looks up her own roommate on social media, and even Ruby snickers from where she’s sitting on the couch. Yang only grins, Blake tucked against her side.
Fate, she says ominously, and Blake laughs until it doesn’t hurt anymore.
--
It’s their sparring class where the extraordinary happens. It’s not a place they expect to find answers and so they aren’t searching for them. Yang’s resting her chin in her hand, dutifully taking notes, her hair up in a careless bun with loose strands curling around her face. Blake’s half-listening, half-staring; Yang’s only grown more beautiful over the years, and sometimes it just hits her, pummels her like an ocean. Like drowning from too much oxygen.
“I need a soulmate pair for this demonstration,” Glynda calls, running a finger through her notes. “There’s a few in this class, I see - Miss Xiao Long and Miss Belladonna, why don’t we start with you?”
There’s a pause. “What?” Yang asks, taken aback, chin slipping off her hand.
“You and Miss Belladonna will be a perfect pair for this exercise,” Glynda says, adjusting her glasses and looking over her notes. “Your bond is already incredibly strong - unusually strong, I’d say. When did the two of you meet?”
“Fourteen,” Blake answers on autopilot since Yang looks suddenly incapable of speaking, staring at their instructor in complete confusion. “But we - um - we aren’t. Soulmates, I mean.” The words sting as much as they always do.
Glynda’s gaze slips up to them, eyebrows high. “What do you mean?” she asks, sounding as bewildered as the two of them must look. “Of course you are. It’s in your files.”
Blake blinks. “In our--”
“Our eyes didn’t change,” Yang interrupts, a note wavering under her voice that doesn’t match the steadiness of her tone. The class is watching them raptly. “When we met. So we - I mean, we can’t be.”
Glynda observes them both carefully, expression flickering. There’s a truth creeping in the shadows of the room Blake’s not sure they’re ready for. Glynda says, “You’ve had the same eye color your entire lives?” And it sounds like the second before the explosion of a bomb.
“Yeah,” Yang says, shifting uncomfortably. Kids keep glancing back and forth, whispering to each other. Blake would be burning under the pressure of the attention if the universe weren’t about to crack wide open.
She seems to be weighing her options; tell them now and get it over with, or wait and make them suffer. She’s apparently not so cruel. “Well, girls,” she says, her mouth still a straight line, “Although this is highly unusual, I’m pleased to inform you that you are most certainly soulmates.” She doesn’t wait for them to ask, noting their shock and disbelief and aptly marking them as unable to respond. “Has anyone ever heard of true soulmates?”
Even if someone did know, the tension in the room’s too great for any of them to break alone. She continues on, unperturbed. Everything’s a teaching moment. “True soulmates are people who are born with the color of the other’s soul intrinsically linked to them - already reflected in their eyes. It’s their soul’s way of memory, if we’re being poetic about it. Most of us have lived many lives before, had many different soulmates - it’s why our eyes change. Because we do, and so do the people we love.”
The absolute silence that has consumed the room is almost unsettling, eerie - or it would be if Blake could feel anything but the pressure of Yang’s fingers wrapped tightly around her knee. Her eyes are wide, lips still parted in awe. Blake feels herself trembling, but it isn’t her, somehow, like she’s hearing this information from a great distance.
Glynda says, “True soulmates, however, do not change. They are drawn together over and over and over again without interruption, without respite. They’re destined to find each other, and the first time they meet in each life is often a powerful reckoning.” She directs a question to them again. “Does that correctly describe your experience?”
Nothing even breathes. Somewhere beyond these walls, the planet stops spinning and waits. Finally, Blake whispers, “It was like - like the world ended.” She can’t meet Glynda’s stare as she talks, caught up in four years ago, and it’s still as vibrant as it’s always been. Yang at fourteen, awkward and lanky with the essence of time pooling in her hands. “You - I looked at you and I - you were everything. Everything.” She whispers it to Yang only, keeps her gaze low.
Yang finds her fingers under the table, stands abruptly up, tugs Blake until she follows. She leads her out the doors, whispering rising behind them - let them go, she vaguely hears Glynda say, continuing the lesson - through the halls, out to the courtyard, under the sun--
Yang spins, cups Blake’s face in her hands, and kisses her.
There’s a desperation to it similar to their first kiss because that’s what it is: they’d been right all those years ago, murmuring in the darkness about being, being something, being more; now they have context on their side, they have truth, they have fate. Yang’s cheeks are wet with tears and she tastes like the ocean. The two of them don’t change. It’s been four years and a lifetime, and they’re still so young.
“I always loved lavender,” Yang whispers against her mouth, and it’s closer than home. “It’s because of you. It’s you.”
“I love you,” Blake says back, kisses her lips again. The world ends, builds itself brand-new. “I always knew I was meant to.”
Yang pulls away and meets her eyes, and Blake finds the color of her soul.
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