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#would make ABSOLUTE sense coming from a man who once had a cop offer to park his (VERY) improperly parked aston martin
sounwise · 2 years
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[In early May 1967, w]hile the Redlands trio [Mick Jagger, Keith Richards, and Robert Fraser] awaited trial, DS [Norman] Pilcher raided Brian Jones’s London flat, busting him and his friend Prince Stanislas Klossowski de Rola, the extravagantly named son of the French painter Balthus. Brian and Prince Stash, as he was known for short, were taken down to Kensington Police Station in a blaze of publicity and charged with possession of cocaine and cannabis, Jones charged additionally with possession of cocaine and methedrine. They went from the police station to the new high-rise Hilton Hotel on Park Lane, where the Stones’ new American manager Allen Klein was staying, but the hotel management made it clear that Jones and de Rola were not welcome, which is when Prince Stash took a call from Paul McCartney, whom he knew slightly. Prince Stash explained to Paul that he and Brian couldn’t stay at the Hilton, and couldn’t go back to Brian’s flat because of the press. Brian had other places he could go, but Stash, a foreigner, didn’t know what to do. ‘I’m sending my car and driver right now. You’re packing your bags and moving into my house, and if they want to bust you again they’ll have to bust me as well,’ Paul said. So Prince Stash joined Paul and Dudley at Cavendish Avenue, running movies on Paul’s 16mm projector, taking drugs and entertaining what Stash describes as harems of girls, including a [woman] named Iggy [Evelyn Rose], while Beatles fans camped outside, periodically bursting in through the gates ‘like sort of cattle breaking through a fence’. They’d steal Paul’s laundry and empty his ashtrays—‘Did he smoke this?’—before being ejected.
[—from Fab: An Intimate Life of Paul McCartney, Howard Sounes]
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bumblesimagines · 3 years
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Part 20
Request: Yes or No
~
"Time travel sounds fun until you see how cringy you used to be." You said, watching Nebula fix some things on the suit Scott had on.
"I've never been cringy." Scott said. You stayed silent in response, glancing at Rhodes. Scott blinked, scoffing softly as you giggled.
"You're great, Scott." You gave a tired smile. Bruce went to put in the red capsules.
"Hey- Hey, be careful!"
"I'm being very careful." Bruce replied.
"No, you're being very Hulky." Scott put in the capsules himself. Even if Bruce was careful, he could still crush whatever was in there without even thinking about it. It was weird seeing Bruce in Hulks body but you supposed it helped end the beef they had. Scott and Bruce went back and forth until he turned small and big in a second.
"Alright, one test run." Scott gave a sheepish smile, glancing at everyone in the room. "I'm not ready for this."
"I'm game." You turned your head, looking at Clint. You crossed your arms, a soft sigh leaving you.
"I'll do it." Clint shrugged. Scott licked his lips, looking at Bruce. Bruce gave him a small nod so Scott walked out of the room to change out of the suit. Clint followed.
"So.. He got a new tattoo." Rhodes glanced at you. You licked your lips, shrugging lightly. Rhodes sighed, leaving the room momentarily before returning with some twizzlers. He offered one to you, giving a small smile. You took it, taking a small bite from it as Clint walked into the room with the suit on. Nebula made sure everything was good with the suit.
"Clint, you're gonna feel a little discombobulated from the shift. Don't worry about it." Bruce told him.
"Wait, wait.. Let me ask you something. If we can do this, you know go back in time, why don't we just find baby Thanos and just.." Rhodes made a wrapping and squeezing motion.
"I mean, it's a solid idea. Baby Thanos was probably real ugly anyways." You said, chewing on the candy. Bruce stared at you and Rhodes in disbelief.
"First of all, that's horrible-"
"It's Thanos."
"And secondly, time doesn't work that way. Changing the past doesn't change the future."
"We go back and get the stones before Thanos gets them.. Thanos doesn't get the stones!" Scott said, shrugging. Rhodes nodded, motioning to him.
"Problem solved!"
"Bingo." Clint nodded as Nebula glanced at them, giving a small shake of her head.
"That's not how it works." She muttered.
"Anyways, who told you that?"
"Star Trek, Terminator, Time Cop, Time After Time, Wrinkle in Time, Hot Tub Time Machine-"
"So, any movie with time in the name." You said with a chuckle.
"Well, it doesn't work like that. If you travel to the past, that past becomes your future and your former present becomes your past." Bruce explained. You hummed, continuing to munch on the twizzler.
"If time travel works.. That means there's different versions of ourselves in different.. Dimensions, right? Like living things we've lived and making decisions we'll eventually make?"
"Yes, actually." Bruce nodded, glad that at least someone was getting it.
"For example, my past self might be in Sokovia fighting Ultron right now while my future self might be relaxing on a beach." Bruce said with a shrug. You hummed, nodding.
"I wonder what my future self is doing.."
"Probably getting therapy instead of napping and drinking." Rhodes muttered, glancing at you. You scoffed softly.
"You drink?" Clint questioned, brows furrowing as a frown tugged at his lips. You shifted your gaze back to the man you used to call dad and shrugged.
"Occasionally." Once the suit was good to go and Bruce had told Clint everything he needed to do, you followed the guys and Nebula to the platform Rocket had built. It was surprising how much a raccoon could built. You glanced at Thor, giving him a small nod. Bruce walked up to the controls, the others standing behind him as they watched Clint stand in the center.
"Alright, Clint.. We're going in three.. Two.." You could tell Clint was nervous, you were too. Despite everything, he had still been someone who took you in and loved you. You slowly chewed on the twizzler, gaze flickering around the platform. To Clint it could feel like hours but it would merely be seconds for you and the others. Clint suddenly appeared, falling on the ground. The helmet retracted as he panted. Natasha quickly rushed up onto the platform with you following incase he had injuries. Natasha helped him up, getting him grounded as Clint looked around.
"I saw her... I saw Lila again.." Clint panted. You stared at him, swallowing as your grip on the twizzler tightened. Clint tossed a baseball glove at Tony, nodding.
"It worked." Clint said. A sense of relief filled you along with everyone. There was a chance at getting everyone back. The team turned, heading to an office in order to talk more and come up with a game plan. You finished your twizzler, taking a seat and watching Tony pull up pictures of the stones.
"We gotta find out the when and the where." Steve said, looking over all of the stones.
"Almost everyone in this room has had at least one encounter with an infinity stone." Steve turned his attention onto everyone. You supposed Vision counted as an encounter.
"Or substitute encounter by being damn near killed by one of the stones." Tony added, shrugging as he sipped on his coffee.
"I haven't." Scott piped in. "I have no clue what the hell you're talking about."
"Regardless, we only have enough pinparticles for one trip each and these stones have been in a lot of different places throughout history." Bruce said, slowly walking around the office.
"Our history." Tony reminded him. "So, not alot of convenient spots to drop in."
"Which means we'll have to pick our targets." Clint muttered. Tony nodded, shooting him the side eye. You cocked a brow when you made eye contact with Tony. Tony simply patted your shoulder.
"Let's start with the ether. Thor, what do you know?" Steve asked, everyones' attention shifting onto the god of lighting. Thor sat in a corner, coke bottle in hand and sunglasses on.
"Is he asleep?" Natasha asked after Thor didn't answer. You stared at him. The last five years had definitely been rough for him.
"Pretty sure he's dead." Rhodes mumbled. You sighed, reaching forward and grabbing a cup of water. You made it turn ice cold before tossing it at the god. Thor jolted awake, looking down at his wet shirt.
"Thor, the reality stone. What do you know about it?" Steve asked again, watching him stand and approach the picture of the reality stone. You listened to Thors' rambling, turning to look at Tony. Scott was the only one interested in what he had to say. Tony approached him, urging him to sit.
"Alright.. Who's next?"
~~~~~~~~~~
You stared at the pictures. Three stones in New York, one in Asgard, and the other two in Morag. You looked at Steve as he approached the hologram.
"Alright, we have a plan. Six stones, three teams. One shot." Steve said. You swallowed, glancing at Rocket and Thor. You had been assigned on their team. Just in case. You stood up with the others, going off to change. You stared at the two pictures in your locker. One of the Barton family and the other of the Stark family. You headed towards the platform after changing, standing beside Thor and Rocket.
"Stay safe." Natasha said softly, giving your arm a squeeze. Steve gave a pep talk before you put your helmet on. You absolutely hated the feeling as you went through what looked like a blue tunnel. When you blinked, you were in Asgard. Thor held a finger up to his lips, passing by a room. You followed, glancing back and seeing his brother. You had never officially met Loki but he was an odd dude. You reached a hall, standing besides Thor. You listened to the women talk in the hall. You shared a look with Rocket.
"There's Jane." Thor whimpered, shaking his head. Rocket sighed.
"Alright.." Rocket hopped off the stone block, looking at you and Thor.
"You're gonna charm her, (Y/N) will be our lookout, and I'll poke her with this thing, get the stone, and we'll be gone." Rocket said, watching Thor. You gave a nod but Thor sniffled.
"I'll be right back. The wine cellar is just down here. My father used to have this huge barrel of ale." You stared at Thor, letting out a sigh as you scratched your forehead. You heard a door opening and quickly ducked besides Rocket.
"Yes, and could you also let me know when Gaia plans on visiting again?" You blinked, feeling your body freeze. You slowly stood, glancing at Thor as he slowly walked down the hall, gaze on the woman.
"Who's the fancy woman?" Rocket asked, hopping onto the stone. You swallowed, turning your head and looking at the woman.
"That's my mother..." Thor answered. Your eyes slightly widened, turning to face Thor. You opened your mouth to ask him a question.
"She dies today." Thor whispered. You shut your mouth, frowning. You licked your lips, gaze flickering around.
"How.. How does she know Gaia?" You asked softly. Thor glanced at you with furrowed brows.
"She was a friend of my mothers'." Thor answered. He looked back at where his mother had been, shaking his head.
"I can't do this." He breathed out, beginning to pant softly. You and Rocket faced him. Rocket told Thor to get closer as Thor rambled. You blinked as Rocket slapped him, almost laughing at the sight of a raccoon slapping a god.
"You think you're the only one who lost people? What do you think we're doing here? I lost the only family I ever had. Same with nature boy over here. I get you miss your mom, but she's gone. Really gone and there are plenty of people who are kind of gone. You can help them. So is it too much to ask that you brush the crumbs out of your beard, talk to the girl, and when she's not looking, suck the infinity stone and help us get our families back?" Rocket stared at him. Thor nodded, a small whimper leaving him as his eyes watered.
"Thor, calm down." You said softly, placing a gentle hand on his arm. "You're the god of lighting, Thor. You can do this."
"Yeah, yeah, I can." Thor nodded. You gave him a small smile, following Raccoon towards the door. You turned, hearing footsteps rushing away. You sighed.
"He's gone." You muttered. Rocket groaned softly.
"You go after him. I'll go get the stone." Rocket said, turning around and walking towards the room.
"I don't know this place." You huffed, looking at the talking raccoon. Rocket let out an exasperated sigh.
"Be my lookout." He mumbled. You walked towards the room Jane was in, watching Rocket enter. You stood infront of the doors, gaze flickering around. You had no idea what you were gonna do if somebody asked you what you were doing. You swallowed, glancing in the direction Thors' mother had gone in.
"He'll be fine." You assured yourself, speedwalking in the direction. You spotted Thor, quietly walking towards him.
"Thor-"
"Shh." He brought up a finger to his lips. Thor grabbed you, keeping you hidden behind the pillar as his mother passed by. She dismissed her girls. You and Thor peeked around the corner.
"What are you doing?" You flinched, letting out a yelp as a woman yelped as well. You turned and faced her, watching her look at Thor. Thor suddenly grabbed you, covering you with his jacket.
"You're better off leaving the sneaking to your brother." The woman said, head tilting.
"What are you wearing? Who is this?" She asked, stepping forward. You swatted Thor's arm away, clearing your throat.
"Uhm, I'm- I'm (Y/N)." You said. Rocket was gonna kill you.
"Frigga." She gave a polite smile. "What are you wearing?" Friggas' brows furrowed, looking Thor over. Frigga slowly approached her son, placing a hand on his cheek. Thor rambled slightly. Frigga smiled softly.
"You're not the Thor I know, are you?" She asked softly.
"Yes I am."
"The future hasn't been kind to you, has it?" She gently brushed some hair out of his face. You watched her, gaze softening. You could see why Thor loved his mother so much. They shared a tight hug, something Thor had desperately needed.
"Let's talk." Frigga smiled. You tuned out as Thor spoke to his mother. You walked around her room, looking over the glass. You licked your lips, looking over at them.
"How do you know Gaia?" You asked softly. Frigga turned to look you curiously.
"Like, uhm, Thor told me but I.. I wanna know more." You said, facing her. Frigga tilted her head, slowly approaching you.
"Gaia? What would you want with her?"
"She's my mother and she.. She kind of abandonded me." You shrugged lightly, letting out a small awkward laugh. Frigga hummed, gaze softening.
"Gaia's in.. It's hard to explain. She's in The Garden. She lives there and it's how she watches over her creations." Frigga explained.
"How do I get there?"
"Fairy rings. Only certain people have access to her portals." Frigga said. You nodded, keeping it in mind. Thor stood, approaching you and his mom.
"Mother, I must tell you something-"
"No, Thor." Frigga turned to face her son, pressing a finger to his lips.
"Mother-"
"Guys!" Rocket shouted, running towards you. "You were supposed to watch the door!"
"I know." You gave an apologetic smile. Rocket shook his head, showing the stone.
"I got it." He breathed out. "Oh, hey, you must be mom."
"I wish we had more time." Thor said softly. Frigga smiled gently, grabbing his hands.
"This was a gift. Now you go and be the man you were meant to be." Frigga said softly. Thor gave her a sad smile.
"I love you, mom."
"I love you." Frigga hugged Thor tightly. She pulled back and smiled. Rocket began to count but Thor stopped him. He extended his hand towards the balcony area. You and Rocket shared a look.
"W-What are we looking at?" He asked.
"It takes a second." Frigga chuckled softly. Thors hammer returned to him, making him beam. You smiled softly as the suit returned.
"Nice meeting you." You said.
"Same here." Frigga smiled, giving a small wave. The helmet came on and you went back through the nauseating blue tunnel. You grunted, shutting your eyes tightly.
"Yeah, fuck that." You muttered, rubbing your forehead. You looked around, noticing Clint fall to his knees with teary eyes.
"Where's Nat?"
~~~~~
Tags: @geek-and-proud @wolfelocksley @babyvisionisamenace @jjk-is-my-shit
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peralta-guaranteed · 3 years
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What abkut mafia!jake au
Stop giving me awesome AU ideas that I cannot write the fic for! 😭
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- due to some really, really bad choices after high school (did he ever make other ones? who knows), Jake Peralta has ended up as a grunt for the Ianucci family. He doesn’t really do much - he’s mostly someone who gathers information and new areas for them to work in, because he’s good at randomly befriending people and milking them for all it’s worth. He’s done a few ‘deliveries’, too, but has never had to really get physical.
- (he was at one family meeting that turned into the ‘farewell’ of a mistrusted member and he still has nightmares about it)
- he’s never been arrested for anything and thought the police didn’t even know his name, so imagine his surprise when he’s approached by one of their higher-ups (as if he knows the rankings, psh, pigs are all the same) and subtly but definitely asked if he would be willing to work with them
- his task seems simple: bring one of their cops into the family undercover, the same way he has ‘recruited’ several bodega owners and other ‘low-skill’ workers that turned out to be useful for the family. Maybe keep an eye on the cop as well and help her out if she’s struggling
- she? oh yeah, it’s a woman. A frankly gorgeous woman, he realises when they meet up with her and some FBI dude who obviously pretends he’s not FBI, to discuss it all further. Her name is ‘Dora’, and he knows that’s a lie from the second she’s introduced, but the less he knows, probably the better. The rules are set, he gets a special cellphone number of a ‘cousin’ to contact if something goes wrong, and two weeks later Dora Perez is steadily working her way up the ranks with the Ianuccis, who are very proud of Jake for bringing in this brilliant new talent.
- He might or might not be looking out for her a little bit too much. He might or might not get involved in far more shady dealings with the Iannuccis so he can work closer with her. He might or might not be in deep, deep shit.
- ‘Dora’ is grateful for it, though, he learns every time he drives her home after a more difficult job. She used to be withdrawn and quiet with him, which he tried to equalise by cracking more and more stupid jokes and doing random silly stuff during their drives, but then one time they drive in absolute silence while she cleans blood of her hands, and he says something, he doesn’t remember what, but it’s the right thing apparently, because she starts to talk. She talks to him during every ride after, telling him about the stress and the constant guard she has to keep up and how none of her research binders prepared her for this, and at some point she tells him about nightmares and seeing death around every corner and she can’t wait for this mission to be over.
- (for her sake, he can’t wait for that either. For his sake, he wishes it would go on forever.)
- They’re sent out for a big job together once, because Jake has already become ‘connected’ to Amy in the Ianuccis’ eyes, and they both end up with blood on their hands, and some of it is hers.
- he gets out of the car after that drive home, and gets up to her tiny, fake apartment, and helps her clean the wounds (nothing too big, just cuts, because thank god that guy only had a knife before he beat it out of his hands and then beat the living daylight out of him after he injured her) with the softest fingers she’s ever felt. Then the cleaning alcohol is swapped for drinkable stuff, and they talk, and they talk about everything and nothing, about how a dead-beat dad and an absent mother make a Mafia goon, and how family pressure and a sense of constant duty make a detective who so badly wanted to say no to this assignment but couldn’t.
- “For what it’s worth, Dora, I’m glad you said yes. I mean, not that- not that I want you to do this kind of work- and I want things to be over for you soon, because- but- I’m glad it’s you.” “Amy.” “Hm?” “My name is Amy. Amy Santiago.”
- He wakes up in her bed the next morning, with her in his arms, and he kind of doesn’t regret a single thing, even as his smart-brain is screaming at him. He’s pretty sure he would’ve willingly died for her even before this night, but now, he realises... that he probably will.
- Amy (Amy, not Dora) does freak out a little more than he does when she wakes up. She can’t get involved, she says, this is a job, a dangerous one, and she has to focus on that job and getting the mafia gang and not- okay, okay, let’s not overthink this then, Jake says only to calm her down, we don’t do anything ‘involved’, we’re just... having fun. Keeping things light and breezy. Helping deal with the stress.
- and so, despite how much it hurts and how much it makes him happy at the same time, Jakey the Jew becomes Jakey, Dora’s Loverboy. It helps, he supposes, because it means the Ianuccis won’t suspect them hanging out so much, and send him along to most of her jobs now so he can watch out for her, and he gets to be with her in a way, even as she constantly reiterates ‘light and breezy’ to keep him at a distance no matter how close they get.
- it doesn’t feel very ‘light and breezy’ when they spend time together in front of the TV, though, to get their minds to relax after doing whatever the Ianuccis needed them doing. It doesn’t feel ‘light and breezy’ when they joke around in the bodega getting ice cream on a particularly hot day out doing jobs, or when she shows him around the library after meeting her ‘cousin’ there for a chat. It doesn’t feel ‘light and breezy’ at all when she sighs into his arms when he’s holding her in bed, neither of them even wanting to take the night any further than soft hands under tshirts, because all they really need at some point is the comfort of each other.
- and then one day, after a few months of this ‘light and breezy’ and ‘Dora’s Loverboy’, Jake gets invited for a ‘Talk’ by the family. With a capital T. And he’s not been that high up in the ranks at any point, and he’s not really done much for the family, but he’s not an idiot. He knows what that means. So of course he doesn’t tell Amy, writes her a short but succinct note instead that maybe ends with the L-word somewhere in it, and goes to have a Talk.
- The Ianuccis know that there is a rat, but they don’t know who. And they know that if Jakey is good for one thing, it’s information. So The Talk doesn’t end as quickly as it usually does, and the way he’d expected. It hurts a lot more, for one thing. Jake thinks of offering up some other goon or lower family member as the rat, if only to make the torture stop, but his brain is too broken in the moment to figure out a convincing story. And when the name ‘Perez’ suddenly drops into the conversation, there’s really only one other name he can still think of clearly to blame. Peralta.
- he doesn’t remember much after that - he’s pretty sure he heard gunshots, but none of them hit him, so what’s the deal with that? Everything else is pretty much a blur of pain and cold, and lots of shouting, and then warm soft hands on his face and a quiet voice saying his name amidst it all, and when he wakes up the next time he’s in a hospital bed.
- He’s in that hospital bed for two weeks to recover, and no one visits him. Not that it should be surprising - Nana is dead, his mom doesn’t know about anything he’s done since the age of 18 for a reason, and there’s no one else who in their right mind should care to visit him. So imagine his surprise when a detective shows up, introduces herself as Rosa Diaz, and explains that she’s Amy’s partner at work, but she’s not here for official business.
- “She wanted to come see you. Hell, she fought tooth and nail for it. But she had to be debriefed, stupid FBI assholes, and then it turned out two of the Ianuccis got away, so we had to find them first to make sure they don’t go after her for revenge” (well that explains the constant patrols in the hospital for him, as well) “and we had to hide her for her safety, but, Jake, she wanted to come see you. I swear.” “It’s okay.” Jake says, and it’s really not, but he’s been a brilliant liar for years now. “You can tell her... it’s okay. The job is done, and I’m, I’m glad she’s finally got it over and past her. Really. Tell her it’s okay.”
- He’s debriefed by the FBI after he gets discharged, as well. They tell him ‘good job’ and ‘thanks’ and pay him a surprisingly large amount of money and cover his hospital bills, so that’s good. They also advise that he move, not far, but far enough that any possible leftover scragglers of the family don’t remember his old place for a ‘visit’. So he moves, a few blocks only, enough to get a new favourite bodega and deli and discover that the library is actually nearby and that there’s this community college that Amy kept talking about for some reason, and if he takes a few classes to finally get a degree, it’s not about getting a proper job at some point, it’s more about not thinking about anything else. About maybe forgetting, even if it was her that basically got him where he is now.
- (it does not work)
- she knocks on his door a month later. She looks strange in her professional outfit instead of washed out jeans and a tanktop with a stupid slogan on it, but also so perfectly her. That’s Amy, he thinks, not Dora anymore. That’s Amy, and he still loves her just as much as he did when she was ‘Dora’ in his sweatpants and tshirt. Maybe more.
- “You’re a hard man to find, Peralta.” She says, and he knows that’s a lie, but she smiles with a scared look through it and he takes it for what it is - an attempt at saying anything, really, after 1 1/2 months of silence, when she’s probably got a speech all prepared in her head but needs to get there first. “That’s such a bad, cheesy movie line.” He helps, and she laughs and yeah, that’s all he needs in life. “Well we never watched any good movies, did we.” “Hey, we watched Die Hard. That’s the best movie there is.” She rolls her eyes but nods, and opens her mouth, and Jake thinks that the speech is coming now, but he has no idea what it might entail. Thank you and good bye, maybe. Good job, great work, can you sign this official statement for me so I can add it to my paperwork? possibly. “Screw light and breezy.” She says instead, and then she’s in his new apartment, which is much nicer and cleaner than the old place was even after she worked her magic on it, and she’s kissing him, and he’s never, ever letting her out.
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itsbenedict · 3 years
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I just finished hosting a 15-person game of Mafia for some friends. One tradition we have for these games is that every death is accompanied by some themed narration, so for my game I opted to spice it up with some art on top. Had to draw it real quick since I didn't know for sure who was going to die next until it happened.
The game's theme was "JoJo's Bizarre Adventure", with the hidden subtheme that all the roles (stands) were named after They Might Be Giants (@tmbgareok) songs! A list of their powers, links to songs, and a recap of the game under the cut.
01) Mogis - 「Flo Wheeler」
02) TD260 - 「Working Undercover For The Man」
03) JGH27 - 「Good To Be Alive」
04) Raya - 「Stone Cold Coup D'Etat」
05) KK / Sahrimnir - 「Thinking Machine」
06) Spontaneous Combustion - 「The Statue Got Me High」
07) Leviwulf - 「Push Back The Hands」
08) DarkFalco - 「I Am Alone」
09) Deli064 - 「Doctor Worm」
10) Fedaykin - 「Letterbox」
11) Surge - 「I Am Alone」
12) Wikxen - 「Put Your Hand Inside The Puppet Head」
13) Minby - 「Where Your Eyes Don't Go」
14) Bel - 「(She Was A) Hotel Detective」
15) SnakeInABox - 「By The Time You Get This」
Bold roles were Jotunheim (Mafia), normal roles were Johnsburg (Town), and italicized roles were third parties. (Jotunheim is the realm of giants from Norse mythology! The mafia were, in fact, giants! And the town's job was to figure out who might be giants! And the two sides were Jo and Jo! JOKES!)
「Flo Wheeler」 was a town role with a power that was pretty dangerous to the user- if anyone happened to be watching or tracking when a kill took place at night, Mogis would look like they'd visited the target that night in addition to whoever actually did. It could potentially be used to catch a mafioso in a lie, but otherwise it was more of an obstacle for the town to overcome- a miller-type role.
♪ You can't do the time, therefore you didn't do the crime ♪
「Working Undercover For The Man」 was a third-party role working for the Speedwagon Foundation to perform a threat assessment. TD could win with the town, but could win and leave early if he could guess all the names or powers of every other stand in the game. He could scan a name every night, to help that along.
♪ Planning midnight raids / On our unsuspecting fans / While the roadies rig / The video surveillance van ♪
「Good To Be Alive」 was a spin on the usual town doctor role- normally, a doctor can target a player and prevent their death if they would die that night. But... JGH couldn't actually prevent deaths- just fake it. The dead would become ghosts, who couldn't vote and couldn't be killed but were still allowed to talk as if they were alive.
♪ Hello leg / such a shaky leg / Just barely more than decoration ♪
「Stone Cold Coup D'Etat」 was a third party with an unusual win condition. They had to recruit a certain number of people to a private side-chat- and then make sure all those people got killed. Plus, she could redirect anything that happened to her at night to her recruits. If the recruits figured out what she was doing and got rid of her, they'd get a boost to their power.
♪ The bark now commands the trees / The queen is overruled by the bees ♪
「Thinking Machine」 was a town role with a mysterious purpose that didn't seem to make much sense at first. Sah would get, every morning, a strange series of numbers and letters of uncertain origin. It was information, somehow, but how to use it?
♪ Tape has brightening arm connect (Wait, that didn't make sense.) / Self-paint lever itching does! (That made even less sense!) ♪
「The Statue Got Me High」 was a mafia power. As the song describes, the victim is enthralled by the monolith and forced to obey its commands, until their eventual death. That is, Spont could recruit a player to the mafia, but they'd die one night later- and if he wasn't careful, he could die and his recruit would flip back.
♪ And now it is your turn (your turn to hear the stone and then your turn to burn) / The stone, it calls to you (you can't refuse to do the things it tells you to) ♪
「Push Back The Hands」 was a passive ability that caused anything that would happen to Levi- a nightkill, an execution, some other power- to be delayed by one day, giving him some time to react. He'd be told who it was that targeted him, so going after him as mafia was risky.
♪ Screeching tires but never a collision / Endless day without a sunset provision ♪
「I Am Alone」 was a weird one. See, DarkFalco, who was mafia, didn't have a stand as such. She was the stand- and she was the stand of Surge, who was town. They were linked together in everything, meaning the mafia had to work to keep Surge alive on top of their own people. She could send messages to Surge at night to mess with him, though.
♪ Before you fire I should inform you / One of us is a double ♪
「Doctor Worm」 had no real special abilities. His ability was to be pretty good at playing the drums, a power that had absolutely no relevance in a game of Mafia.
♪ I'm not a real doctor, but I am a real worm I am an actual worm ♪
「Letterbox」 was a mafia ability that let Fedaykin pick another player, and offer that player a chance to deliver a private message to one other player of their choice. He could see the "secret" communications, though, and once per game he could edit the message before delivering it.
♪ I'll never know what you'll find when you open up your letter box tomorrow ♪
「Put Your Hand Inside The Puppet Head」 is a classically mafia ability, but in the hands of a town player: the ability to force another player to vote for another. Normally the manipulated person isn't allowed to say what happened, but there was no such restriction here- confusion's no good for the town.
♪ Memo to myself: do the dumb things i gotta do: Touch the puppet head ♪
「Where Your Eyes Don't Go」 let Minby pick someone else to watch him at night. If anyone visited him to target him with an ability, the person he designated would be told the names of those people. A nasty trap for the mafia, as long as Minby doesn't pick a mafioso to share the information with.
♪ Where your eyes don't go, a part of you is hovering / It's a nightmare that you'll never be discovering / You're free to come and go / Or talk like Kurtis Blow / But there's a pair of eyes in back of your head ♪
「(She Was A) Hotel Detective」 was a very powerful town role- Bel was the cop, and could scan another player's alignment at night, plus track or watch them. Except... not directly. She couldn't scan players- she could scan hotel rooms, and if other players didn't check into the hotel at night or give up their room numbers, her information was useless.
Here are the room numbers, in order: Levi (1) Snake (2) JGH (3) TD (4) Spont (5) Sah (6) Deli (7) Fed (8) Minby (9) Falco/Surge (10) Raya (11) Wikxen (12) Mogis (13).
(Oh, and Thinking Machine's codes were actually encoded versions of her results, and Sah would get a weaker version of her power if she ever died.)
♪ She's got her ear to the walls / And she's tappin' the calls / If you've got a secret, boy / Forget about it! ♪
「By The Time You Get This」 imbued its wielder with the incredible powers of... an estate lawyer! Which meant Snake could leave a will behind when he died, naming another player and casting a vote on them from beyond the grave the next day.
♪ By the time you get this note / We'll no longer be alive / But our skulls are smiling still / At the thought of things to come ♪
So! Here's how it all shook out.
Day 1: The first day is always kind of a tossup, since no one has any information yet, and everyone's just trying to verbally stir the pot. Levi soft-claims his role right out the gate, warning town not to try targeting him or else. Mogis is executed, casting a vote on himself to save the town the trouble of dealing with Flo Wheeler.
Night 1: Spont uses the statue to recruit Wikxen, at the same time that Wikxen forces Snake to vote for Levi. So, now the usually-scum power in the hands of town is in the hands of scum for real. Bel scans room 3, and learns that its occupant is innocent. Raya recruits DarkFalco, and accidentally recruits Surge alongside her, to her surprise. JGH tries protecting Levi, to test if his claim was a bluff.
Day 2: Levi tries to push JGH on the basis of having targeted him last night, but everyone agrees to wait and see if Levi actually dies first. Votes circle around Wikxen and Raya for suspicious-seeming defensiveness on Day 1, and ultimately, when it seems like Wikxen's about to be executed, a small group of players flip their votes at the last minute and vote Raya out while she's asleep and can't defend herself. Rude! She was poised to win the game for herself and the town, since she'd convinced Falco that the mafia would benefit somehow if they were all recruited.
Night 2: The mafia kills Minby- and Minby opts to tell have Fed watch him, wasting his power. Lucky for town, though, Bel happens to scan room 8, confirming Fed is mafia since he volunteered his room number. Wikxen's coat contains a furnace where there used to be a guy.
Day 3: Wikxen forced Snake to vote for J, making him look bad- but Sah begins sharing his bizarre results from Thinking Machine, and Bel confirms that they're a log of her detective power. Then she points out that Fed is mafia, and the town falls in line behind the accusation with Sah to confirm.
Night 3: Spont uses the statue to recruit Bel, to keep any more problematic scans from ruining them. Bel, before being recruited, scans room 10, though- and now the town knows there's something funky with Falco and Surge, because Sah gets the results and knows what they mean. Due to their mismatched alignments, though, the encoded version is still misleading, so there's wiggle room. TD scans Spont and learns his role name.
Day 4: Spont concocts a daring scheme. He has Bel lie and claim to have received an incriminating result on him- so that Bel will be caught in said lie when Sah produces his own results. The plan is to frame Bel, who's a dead girl walking anyway, and clear Spont's name going forward. But the town talks themselves into explaining away the contradiction- even when TD reveals Spont's stand name, and Spont denies it outright and claims 「Combustible Head」, a fake vigilante (town nightkiller) role instead, the town explains away that, too. After a few more people claim, TD260 has completed his mission- his correct guess wins him the game and he leaves. Spont cleverly excuses himself by claiming that TD lied about his role to get him to claim his "real" one. Afterwards, the town ends up executing Deli064 instead, for some reason- poor Doctor Worm!
Night 4: The evidence vanishes from Bel's charred and smoking chair- because JGH tries to protect her at the same time the mafia are killing him! Bel is a ghost now, and the town never finds out her alignment.
Day 5: Bel not dying poses a problem for the mafia, because Spont was supposed to prove his own innocence by pretending to kill her! The mafia tries to misdirect by having Bel lie again, claiming to scan room 10 when she actually scanned room 6, Sah. Ultimately, though, the town is able to coordinate behind killing Surge and Falco, which- because they're linked- is a compromise option that both parties are happy with (when perhaps they shouldn't be).
Night 5: Since Bel is technically dead, Spont recruits again, grabbing Sah and removing the threat of scans entirely. If he'd recruited Snake instead, they'd have won on the spot, since only his will-vote prevented them from winning instantly due to outnumbering the town. We move on to a somewhat redundant...
Day 6: It's now down to five players- Spont, Sah, and Bel vs Levi and Snake. The mafia technically outnumber the town, but Bel's vote doesn't count, and Sah's going to burn the next night- so the town can still win by forcing a tie and then using Snake's By The Time You Get This power to place a vote on Spont. But that's if they can figure it out and get on the same page, and... they don't. There's no way there could be three mafia still alive, so the mafia are able to sow total confusion and ultimately get the town all voting for Bel... who's a ghost, and can't vote or be executed, which the town doesn't know because JGH died before he could fully explain. The execution defaults to Snake, and the mafia win the game.
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drabbles-mc · 3 years
Text
Take A Little Ride
Angel Reyes x F!Reader
Request from @bishopslosawife​: What if one of the Mayans’ S/O was an NFR professional barrel rider from the south? Like S/O plans a trail ride for everyone to get them to relax and someone recognizes her and asks her to show off her moves? Maybe S/O has a horse boarding at the stable?
Warnings: language
Word Count: 4.3k
A/N: (Sorry if this is the second time you’re seeing this fic! I’ve had some issues with posts disappearing from my blog and the tags and I’m trying to get everything back on track haha.) I know we talked about this fic forever ago, and I’ve been thinking about it ever since lol. We threw around a lot of ideas and I tried to fit as many into this fic as possible without it feeling cluttered. Also, I know this is technically an Angel fic, but we get to see a lot of our boys in this story. Hope you enjoy! xo
Angel Taglist: @mayans-sauce​ @encounterthepast​ @helli4nthus​ @lilacyennefer​ @angelreyesgirl​ @everyhowlmarksthedead​ @starrynite7114​ @rosieposie0624​ @queenbeered​ @mylittlelonelyappreciationtoo​ @sincerelyasomebody​ @mijop​ @sadeyesgf​ @xladymacbethx​ @thesandbeneathmytoes​ @blessedboo​ @appropriate-writers-name​ @holl2712​ @tomhardydallasstarsgirl​ @multiyfandomgirl40​ @sillygoose6969​ @beardburnsupersoldiers​ @louisianalady​ @gemini0410​ @paintballkid711​ @chibsytelford​ @yourwonkywriter​ @sesamepancakes​ @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead​ @georgiaaintnopeach​  @plentyoffandoms @twistnet​ @themoonandthewicked​ @garbinge​ @bucky-iss-bae​ @enjoy-the-destruction​
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“Oh come on,” you pleaded as you sat in Angel’s lap, “It would be so fun!”
He chuckled, shaking his head, “Yea, for you maybe. I’d have no fuckin’ clue what to do.”
“It’s really not that hard,” you reassured him.
EZ sat down across from the two of you, “What is Angel fighting you about now?” he smirked.
You laughed, “I was saying that we should go for a trail ride sometime soon—all of us. It’s such a good way to unwind.”
“What’s the issue then?” he was clearly confused.
“She means a horseback trail ride, Boy Scout,” Angel piped in with a shake of his head before returning his gaze to you, “Anyone besides you and Taza even know how to ride?”
You paused, trying to think back on your conversations with everyone. Truthfully, now that he said it out loud, you couldn’t say for certain if any of the guys knew how to ride. You didn’t want to cop to that, but you weren’t a good liar, “I have no idea,” you chuckled, “I mean for some reason I wanna say that at one point Riz said something to me about it but I’m not sure. You guys could learn, though! It’s not like we’d be competing or anything, just a nice mellow trip. Like a hike! Besides, it’d be good for you boys to learn something new.”
“Y/N,” Angel started, “I’m not gonna fu—”
EZ cut him off, “I’m game,” he was genuinely interested, but he also loved being a little bit of an instigator when it came to things like this between you and Angel.
Your eyes lit up, “Yea?”
“Bro,” Angel shook his head, “What the fuck?”
“Put it to a vote!” you said excitedly, “That’s what y’all do, right?”
EZ laughed, nodding, “Yea, that’s exactly what we do.”
“What, we gonna go to Templo for this?” it was getting more and more difficult for Angel to keep a straight face.
“We’ll do it right here,” you leaned forward and grabbed your empty beer bottle off the table, rapping it on the wooden surface a few times to get everyone’s attention, “Hey! Boys! I have an offer for ya.”
If Angel had the ability to melt into the couch cushions, he would’ve. The guys could see the look on his face and it only made them more interested in what you were going to say. EZ was sitting back with a smug grin, extremely invested in where this was all going to go.
“What’s the offer?” Taza asked with a soft smile.
“So,” you got up off Angel’s lap, “I know y’all have had a rough couple of weeks. And I think it’d be good for everyone to get out and unwind,” they were all nodding along in agreement so far, “I just so happen to know of a really great ranch about forty minutes North of here. What would you guys say to a day trip and a trail ride? Switch things up a little.”
Taza’s response was immediate, “Sounds good to me.”
You could see the apprehension on some of their faces, so you tried to reassure them, “If you don’t know how to ride, they give you a rundown of the basics. Plus, the horses that they have there are all push-button—absolute gems.”
“How do you know about this place?” Bishop couldn’t help but to ask.
“I’ve been boarding my horse there since I moved to Cali,” you paused, “So, what d’you say?”
Sure enough, everyone started to speak up in agreement. You had never felt so excited. You looked back at Angel, who was shaking his head trying not to crack a smile. He had a feeling it was going to go this way.
“Majority vote,” Bishop said with a laugh, “It passes.”
“Yay!” you clapped, “Alright, I’ll call and get it all set up for this week. It’s gonna be so much fun, trust me.”
As the week passed by, Angel and a few of the other guys asked you questions about just what exactly they had gotten themselves into. They all knew that you rode, but they never thought it would have any crossover with their lives.
You all met up at the clubhouse late Saturday morning. You had your jeans and boots on, along with a tank top. You’d packed a backpack with water bottles and a few snacks, as well as your riding helmet. There was a palpable sense of excitement in the air, along with nervousness.
“You guys might not wanna take the bikes,” you warned with a laugh, “Your legs might be a little sore afterwards.”
They all stood and thought about it for a moment before deciding to take your word for it. They split up and piled into the few trucks they had, allowing you to lead the way since none of them knew where you were going. It was one of the very few times that Angel ever rode shotgun and let you take the wheel. You’d seen EZ crack a smile as his brother begrudgingly handed you the keys.
You rolled into your parking spot at the ranch, instantly jumping out of the truck once it was in park. The rest of the guys weren’t far behind, their vehicles falling into line with yours. You waited for them all and then waved for them to follow you as you confidently strode across the grounds to the barns. A few of the other people there smiled and waved to you, recognizing you from your frequent trips there.
The man who ran the ranch came out of one of the barns, arms out wide as he approached you, “Y/N, so good to see you,” he gave you a hug, “I was excited when they told me about your call.”
“Who’s this fuckin’ guy?” Angel murmured to EZ under his breath, elbowing him when he saw his brother trying to bite back a laugh.
You hadn’t heard the exchange, but you turned around to introduce everyone regardless, “Boys, this is Matthew—owner of this fine establishment and also one of the first people to help me settle in when I moved here to California. Matthew, this is my crew,” you laughed, “Best group of troublemakers you’ll ever meet.”
He laughed, nodding in acknowledgment, “Gentlemen, it’s a pleasure. I’m here to help and get you guys up and running, but you’re in good hands with Y/N here. She knows the trails out here like the back of her hand.”
“Well,” you chuckled, “I wasn’t gonna say it, but he’s totally right,” you clapped, “Let’s get you boys all saddled up and ready to go!”
It was refreshing to see them a little out of their element, with the exception of Taza, and surprisingly enough Coco seemed rather comfortable in the barn. You didn’t comment on it, wanting to see just how much he knew. But so far he had gotten all his tack on without much of an issue, and he seemed really comfortable with the horse they had provided for him.
You went back and forth with the guys about wearing helmets. Angel was adamant that he would be fine without one, “You’re not even gonna wear one! Or Taza!”
You laughed, “And when you’ve clocked as many hours as we have, you won’t have to wear one either. But for now, you’re gonna have to. Deal with it.”
“Yea,” EZ chuckled as he clipped his on, “Gotta save all the braincells that you can.”
“Shut up,” Angel shoved him as they both broke down in laughter.
Your horse was waiting patiently in her stall, all tacked up and ready to go. You were thankful that she was so mellow and patient, because you didn’t have to worry about her while you got everyone else situated. Up until that point, you had never realized just how diverse the ranch was when it came to breeds of horses. Most of them were rescues in some capacity, bought at auction when they weren’t competition or breeding material anymore, but they still made great companions, especially for beginners.
The fact that Taza let the boys struggle on their own a bit wasn’t lost on you. He was already perched atop his horse, waiting for the rest of them to get their acts together. You were certain that it was the most entertained that he had been in a while—you could see it in his eyes. To make up for the lack of Taza’s guidance, you were running around helping however you could.
“C’mon,” Coco taunted as he hoisted himself up onto his horse with ease, “What’s takin’ you guys so long?”
“Since when do you know anything about horses?” Angel said with a hint of bitterness to his voice.
“Psh, you don’t know everything about me, ‘mano. Don’t worry about it.”
Once everyone was on and ready to go, you finally went back to bring your own horse out. She was waiting patiently as ever in her stall. You slid the door open and stepped inside, gently resting your forehead against hers. It was exciting to be able to share this part of your life with all of them, even if it was going to be a little extra chaotic the first time around. You hoped, though, that they would enjoy it enough to want to come back and do it again. You thought that it would be good for them, because it certainly was for you.
You led your horse out of the barn, not that you really needed to be holding onto her reins anyway—she’d follow you wherever you went almost without question. You had her stop so you could slip your foot into your stirrup and hoist yourself onto her. The guys looked on in slight awe, not able to believe that it was so easy for someone of your height to climb up that easily onto a horse that was so tall.
Once you were situated in your stirrups and adjusted your backpack, you turned and looked around at your crew with a wide smile on your face, “Everyone feel like they sorta know what they’re doing? Matthew give you an overview of the basics?” there were various mumbled of agreement as they nodded their heads and you had to laugh, “You’ll be fine. Just remember, gentle on the reins—it’s attached to their mouths. Squeeze with your legs and nudge with your heels if you wanna go faster. These horses are super well trained so you shouldn’t need to kick, or be loud with them at all. Just use a clear voice,” you paused, “We should probably do a couple laps around the arena first before I take you guys off-roading,” you laughed, “Follow me.”
Admittedly, you were pretty impressed at how well the guys were picking it up. A lot of it had to do with the horses that they were riding, but still. It was the first time you could ever remember Bishop seeming out of his element and you had to admit that you found it amusing. Angel and Gilly found themselves struggling together while EZ practically rode laps around them, of course.
“Show-off,” Angel said with a laugh and a shake of his head as he shifted slightly in his saddle.
“You’re just mad because I’m already good,” EZ chuckled as he made his way over to where you and Taza were watching the rest of them.
Once you started making your way towards the trail, you and Coco found yourselves side by side. You glanced over at him and had to smile at how comfortable he seemed. For a man who seemed to be a little jumpy at baseline, he seemed really calm.
“I have to admit,” you said as you glanced back to make sure you didn’t lose anyone yet, “you surprised me a little bit with all of this,” you gestured to him and the horse.
He laughed, “Yea, I’m full of fuckin’ surprises.”
“You ride for a long time?”
He shrugged, “Not in a while. Started when I finished my four years. One of the guys who came back with me told me to try out equine therapy. Seemed kinda pointless but I really wasn’t in a position to be sayin’ no to anything—I was pretty fucked up. And it helped. Stopped when I started getting in with the club.”
You nodded, unable to hide how invested you were in everything that he was telling you, “Got it. That why the guys didn’t know?”
“Yea. Plus, they don’t gotta know everything,” he chuckled.
The topic fell by the wayside as the group of you continued on your little adventure. It was peaceful, and it was nice to hear all of them laughing and joking around with each other. You felt like you were constantly turning around to make sure that you hadn’t lost track of anyone, but you really didn’t mind it. It was hard to not be a little amused at how out of sorts Angel still seemed. The downside of being as tall and lanky as he was, is that it’s impossible to miss when he is feeling uncomfortable or out of his comfort zone. It was written all over his body language.
You looped around so you could land yourself next to him. You smiled over at him as he focused intensely on his reins, “Still getting the hang of it?”
“You guys make it look so easy.”
You laughed, “We’ve got years of practice. You’ll pick it up.”
“Gilly wants to know why he’s the only one that didn’t get a horse,” Angel laughed.
You chuckled and shook your head, “Mules are great, he’s got nothing to complain about. They’re strong, and smart, and a little stubborn but that’s just like the rest of you guys so it should be fine.”
“I know I’m not good at this shit,” he shifted slightly in his saddle, “and I dunno if I ever will be. But it’s nice to see you enjoying yourself like this. I don’t think I’ve ever really seen you like this.”
You smiled, feeling your face get warm, “Well, now you know,” you paused, laughing, “Plus I think this is one of the only times that I’ve been better than you at something.”
“Couldn’t let it be a sweet moment, could you?”
You chuckled, “Is this how you feel all the time with me?”
“I’m not better than you at everything, querida. Stop bein’ dramatic,” he smiled.
“Cooking and horseback riding are the two things I definitely have over you. And I’m holding onto those for dear life,” you laughed.
“I’ll let you have them. Just for you, I promise I won’t get any better at this.”
“For me?” you pressed a hand to your chest with a smile, “You’re too sweet.”
You nudged your horse onward so you could get back to the front of the pack. You’d ridden the trails hundreds of times but they never got any less beautiful. They were different than where you used to ride back home but the change was nice. The trail that you had taken them on was one of the easier ones—no crazy inclines or anything like that. It was a slow but steady ride up one of the smaller peaks that surrounded the ranch. The view from the top was beautiful—you could see for miles. You had a feeling that the guys were going to love it.
“We’re almost to the top,” you called back over your shoulder.
Within a few minutes, the whole group of you had made it to the clearing at the top of the peak. They were all letting out their own murmurs of approval and you felt so proud of yourself. A few of them hopped down, wanting to get a little closer to the cliff edge so they could look down over it. There was nothing but the sound of the breeze and the screaming of the birds while you all stayed there and took in the view. It was the most peace that they’d probably felt in a while.
“Pretty great, right?” you looked over at Angel, who had managed to guide his horse to they were right next to you.
He nodded, “Beautiful. Had no idea any of this was out here.”
“This is what I used to do with pretty much all of my free time when I first moved here, back before I really knew anyone.”
“You gave this shit up to hang out with us?” Angel chuckled as he gestured to the rest of the guys.
You laughed, shaking your head, “I didn’t give it up. I still come out here at least once every weekend, if not more during the week if work allows for it. I still make the time.”
“I love you,” he had a starry look in his eyes as he gazed over at you.
You smiled, “I love you too. Thanks for doing this—I know you weren’t really all that thrilled about it.”
“I’m glad I did. It’s nice to see something that means so much to you.”
After a few more minutes of lingering, chatting, and getting photos of everyone, it was time to complete the loop and head back towards the ranch. You were glad that the guys had pacified you and allowed you to do a little impromptu photoshoot of them with their horses—it was a moment that you wanted to remember. They were quite the diverse pack and you couldn’t help but to smile.
The ride back down was smooth. It was evident that for the most part, the guys were starting to feel more comfortable in their saddles. There weren’t as many, “oh fuck’s” said under their breath. There was a little more talking and joking going on and it made your heart feel fuller.
Cutting through the quietness of the trail was Angel’s voice, “Shit, fuck, oh fuck,” he wasn’t yelling but you could tell that he was worried.
You whipped your head around to see what was wrong, and you had to bite back your laughter as you watched the scene that was playing out. Angel’s horse had bumped up from a walk to a jog and clearly it wasn’t Angel’s doing. The panic that was on his face was priceless. Realistically, the horse wasn’t even going that fast, but it was enough to send Angel into panic mode.
“I’m just gonna fuckin’ jump off.”
You laughed, “Do not jump off. Just apply a little pressure to the reins and tell him to walk. He should slow right down. They don’t understand curse words.”
He did as you instructed, and sure enough the horse dropped right back down to a leisurely walk. You were trying not to laugh but the rest of the guys weren’t as kind and forgiving as you. You knew that that was going to be something that he wasn’t going to be living down anytime soon.
The rest of the descent was uneventful. The whole squad made it back down to the base of the trail unscathed. You hopped down off your horse and began to help all of them to do the same. You told them where to go and put all of their tack once they took it off, and also told them that if they could walk their horses for a couple minutes just to help cool them down it would be appreciated. It wasn’t the most intensive ride but it would still be good for them. Besides, it would be good for the guys and their legs too.
You were getting ready to bring your horse in when a girl came walking up to you, trying to politely get your attention. She couldn’t have been more than seventeen or eighteen. Her t-shirt and jeans were streaked with dirt but there was a giant smile on her face as she walked up to you and your horse.
“Hi, excuse me, are you Y/N?” her voice was quiet, shy.
You nodded, slightly confused, “I am. Everything alright?”
“Yea! I just, um, god sorry I don’t mean to be weird. I used to watch you race, though. I went to almost every NFR circuit event for a few years back when we still lived in Nevada. They said you moved but I had no idea it was here and I,” she stopped herself, “Sorry, I’m rambling.”
You shook your head, smiling, “Don’t be sorry. I don’t think I’ve ever had a fan before,” you laughed.
“Well that’s not true,” the girl laughed. She paused for a few moments, “Would it…would it be weird to ask if I could see you do a run?”
You raised your eyebrows, “A barrel run?”
She nodded excitedly, “Yea.”
You laughed, “I mean, I don’t see why not. I’m a little out of practice but I think we can still manage it,” you patted your horse on the shoulder.
“Oh my god this is so cool. The big arena inside is already set up—I just finished my lesson.”
The two of you walked together, your horse following behind without you having to hold too tightly on the reins. You listened to her gush and talk about riding and it made you miss what it felt like to be training for competitions. You didn’t regret stepping back from it to live the life that you have now, but there was nothing quite like that rush of adrenaline.
The guys had heard the entire interaction and all of them had since gotten their own horses situated so they could come and see what was about to happen. EZ and Angel were leaning against the side of the arena, their voices carrying in the echo chamber it created.
“You know she used to compete?” EZ asked as he watched you hop back up onto your horse.
“Yea, I mean, she mentioned it,” Angle replied, “Didn’t know that she was a fuckin’ celebrity, though.”
“Paparazzi is gonna show up any minute,” Bishop materialized next to them, chiming in with a laugh.
You settled into your saddle, getting both you and your horse positioned so that you could start your run. You could tell that she felt the shift in energy as the two of you stood at the entrance to the arena. You could feel her starting to get a little antsy, a little wound up. It had been a long time since you ran the pattern, but you had no doubt that it would be like riding a bike for the two of you.
As soon as you nudged her with the heel of your boot, your horse took off. You couldn’t stop the laughter that erupted out of you as she flew around the first barrel, gliding seamlessly into the turn. You could faintly hear the guys from the sideline over the sound of the wind in your ears. You felt your hat fly off your head and you didn’t even care. You’d almost forgotten how fun it was to neck-rein at that high of a speed.
You looped around the second barrel, and the third, and your horse all but flew down the center of the pattern as she ran out of the arena. You sat back in your saddle, trying to get her to slow down but you didn’t really want her to. It had to have felt just as good for her as it did for you—the two of you hadn’t done more than a light canter in a while and she was clearly itching to get out some pent-up energy.
Finally she slowed to a walk as you turned her around to head back towards the arena. The young girl came running out of the building with a huge smile on her face, your hat hanging from her fingertips.
“That was so cool!” she handed your hat back to you.
You hopped down off your horse with a smile, “That was the most fun I’ve had in a while, I can’t lie,” you laughed, “I’m glad you asked us to run it—that felt amazing.”
“Do you board here?” she looked at you expectantly.
You nodded, “I sure do. Here every weekend, pretty much. Not that we’re really training to compete anymore, but you know.”
“If we’re ever here at the same time do you think that you could give me some pointers?”
You nodded, feeling your heart swell inside your chest, “Absolutely.”
“Yes! Oh that’s so awesome. Thank you so much. I’ll, um, I’ll let you get back to your friends. But thank you so much.”
You smiled, “Of course. I’ll see you around.”
She bounded off, an excited spring to her step. You chuckled and shook your head as you started to lead your horse back to the barn so you could take off her saddle and bridle. As the two of you meandered, Angel and the guys all came out of the arena, looks of surprise all over their faces.
“What the fuck was that, querida?” Angel laughed as he shook his head in disbelief.
“What?” you feigned ignorance.
“When were we gonna find out that you know how to do all that?” EZ piped up.
“I told you guys that I ride!”
“That,” Angel threw his arm around your shoulder, “was not just riding. That was insane! You guys were fucking flying.”
“Shoulda seen how fast we could go when we were actually training for it.”
“Also, didn’t know that you were apparently a celebrity,” there was a smirk on his face as he pressed a kiss to your shoulder.
You laughed and shook your head, “Not a celebrity. The horse world is a small one.”
“You gonna be able to teach us how to do all that?” EZ asked with a laugh.
“Not a fucking chance,” you smiled over at him, “But you guys are more than welcome to come here with me any time.”
“Well now we definitely have to,” Angel said, “Gotta see what other moves you’re holding out on.”
“Oh,” you laughed, “you’ll see. Don’t worry.”
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nincompoopydoo · 3 years
Text
PAIRING, BAGELS, REPEAT
— HYMN OF THE LOVESICK ; PART 5 / ?
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( gif from this beautiful gifset by @knightwayne )
PAIRING: Bruce Wayne x reader
WORD COUNT: 2k
SUMMARY: Alfred definitely knows something about Bruce that you’re not willing to think about and Bruce has an epiphany that changes the way he sees you.
A/N: Guess who forgot which day pbr is usually posted? This idiot here. God, I’m sorry and this chapter can be boring. Next chapter will have a lot more going on, I promise. Also, this might end in the next chapter or two. Enjoy, folks.
WARNINGS: Kinda dramatic because I’m dramatic.
MASTERLIST ; MASTERPOST
Driving through the Wayne estate gives you a sense of much-needed peace. The never-ending tunnel with walls of identical colossal pine trees as you faintly hum to Aretha Franklin over the low whirring of the running engine. It’s a quarter to noon, and the sun doesn’t seem to shine in the city of Gotham—clouds of grey constantly shield its optimum shine, only to ever allow rays to seep through the gaps in the moving Autumn wind. You don’t mind it and you never did, growing up in the city left clouds unnoticed to you unless it signified the arrival of a thunderstorm. Weather and nature are the least of your concerns but you would appreciate it now and then.
The tunnel of trees comes to an end as a clearing of extensive fields emerges into view. What is left of the Wayne Manor still stands with ostentation, despite its skeleton along with its dignity rotting away to be eventually consumed by mother nature herself. There’s a sense of eeriness to it; you find it odd how a building could seem so alive at times, like it's watching you, despite its apparent decay.
You turn your head away and focus on the road.
A glance at your hand on the wheel, you’re reminded of last night, when his hands held yours—it burns at the mere thought of his gentle touch. And the drive home, silent with the occasional glances and small smiles. You recall how the passing streetlights cascade hues of orange on his wearied expression and how his eyes were bright when they flit to your figure in the passenger seat for just a moment. Something must have changed between the two of you, but you can’t quite tell what. Maybe it’s your undying love for Bruce. Maybe he feels the same way. You snort to yourself, alone in your car, one can only dream but it doesn’t mean they all come true. Bruce may love but he doesn’t commit. You can’t commit too. Now, you’re starting to believe you’ve been lying to yourself.
The glasshouse comes into view as you steer around the bending road and into the driveway. It contradicts everything the manor was but only shared its sense of glory. You like the glasshouse, less deafening and structured with the purpose of bareness and vulnerability but its dark furnishings keep it grounded and secure. Its sense of balance tricks your mind into thinking you’re stable. His car is still around, parked by the porch but you don’t see him, ambling around the household.
Switching off the ignition, you snatch the paper bag from the passenger seat and clamber out of the car. Darker clouds begin rolling from afar, your hair flying in the strong wind. A storm is coming, you’re sure of it. One of the rare times it rains during the season. You dread the thought of having to drive back into the city and across Westward Bridge. Driving over bridges built over the water in the rain scares the heck out of you.
As you swing the car door to a close, you hear the shuffling of feet amongst leaves behind you. Alfred, with a barrel of chopped wood—stocking up for the winter. There’s a glimmer of amusement in his eyes albeit startled by your sudden presence. He mentions your name with endearment; you greet him with a small smile. You always liked Alfred. You enjoyed his company.
“What a pleasant surprise seeing you here,” he says, pushing the barrel aside as he nears you. “I’m afraid you just missed Bruce. He left for Metropolis an hour ago—duty calls.”
You nod, ignoring the clench in your heart. He hadn’t told you anything but frankly, you weren’t expecting him to anyway.
“Well, I just came by to drop off this,” You lift the paper bag, swaying it a little within your grasp. “As a thank you gift, you know.” Alfred smiles at this, gestures towards the house in a beckoning manner. “Come on in, I’ll make you some tea.” Before you could even protest, he’s gently guiding you to the door by the shoulder. It’s hard to say no to Alfred, especially when he offers tea.
-
Your mind wonders as you watch the drizzle of rain form ripples in the lake. You sit on a chair with a contemporary structure to it; it digs into your lower back, due to your bad posture. Uncomfortable but nice-looking and great armrests. Contradicts everything a chair should be. Alfred emerges from the kitchen with a black ceramic mug in hand, steam from the brewed tea lingering above it. He holds an identical mug, for himself. With two hands, you clasp onto the mug with acceptance, a radiant appreciative smile upon your lips. “Thank you, Mr. Pennyworth.” Alfred shoots you a look of disdain, “I’ve told you many times, Alfred is fine.” Taking a sip, you shake your head, a smile still lingering. “No way. I have too much respect for you to call you by your first name.” Alfred mirrors you, settling for the chair to your right, swiftly sliding the scatter of papers to the corner of the table. You find it easy to fall into a natural conversation with the older man—the two of you are mutuals after all of a certain billionaire. Yet, Alfred is more of a father figure, having practically raised Bruce and you, well, it’s complicated. It always is. You don’t know where you stand in his life, and you're not sure if you want to know.
“Anyway, where have you been? I haven’t seen you in weeks.” It’s true. The usual sight of the butler sauntering around the glasshouse or somewhere in the Wayne Estate was absent during the last two weeks. Alfred is always around, his disappearance was glaring, impossible to go unnoticed.
He shifts in his seat, placing his mug on the table, teaspoon moving with a soft clang. “I was visiting family back in England. I appreciate that you have noticed my absence,” An eyebrow raises, your laugh comes out more like a huff. “Always, Mr. Pennyworth.”
Family. Mother. Dinner—you remember the dinner with your mother on Sunday night, and you’re the host. The host hasn't decided on the menu for tomorrow’s meal. Oh God, it’s tomorrow. Procrastination is your friend but your family’s expectations for you aren't. If you pop enough wine bottles, maybe she'll be too drunk to be disappointed by the end of the night.
And the wedding. The mere thought makes you sick. You don’t want to bring a date, but you don’t want to be alone. Weddings, love, couples—it makes you tick. It’s a glaring reminder of how your love life is an absolute disaster and your inability to maintain relationships. It’s hopeless, you’ll die a spinster and everyone lives happily ever after.
“Are you alright?”
It’s funny how those three words have been the most frequent words you would hear from those around you. You appreciate the concern, really, but you can’t help but feel there’s a stronger and deeper meaning to those words. It’s a question of assurance, a reality check, and a realization that you might be broken. Everyone is broken—in their own ways.
Although you seem reserved to some people, your tendency to open up about your issues to those close to you contradicts that though you instantly regret it. Especially when people tell you to change. You hate change. It’s terrifying.
You pause, suddenly feeling...fidgety. Yet, in the words of Bruce: In Alfred, you trust.
Remember, keep it light. You don’t want to haul all this luggage of yours onto an aging man. He’s already got Bruce’s luggage.
“My cousin’s getting married in two weeks and,” you sigh, he listens intently. “And as pathetic as this sounds, I really don’t want to go to it alone.”
Your words are direct, straightforward and you sound like a whiny teenager or the main character in a Wattpad story but truth be told, there’s an underlying meaning to it and you know, Alfred knows it. You just don’t want to admit it.
He takes a beat, assessing your sentence like he’s a therapist, wanting to select his words carefully. “Well, I don’t think you’re pathetic. It’s...understandable,” he flashes you a pointed look and you find yourself straightening your back. “Why don’t you ask Bruce?”
Your brain must have short-circuited at that moment.
Oh, hell no. Not in a million years.
You’re shaking your head, laughing nervously. “No, no. No. Never. I couldn’t possibly ask him to do that. He’s already done so much for me—”
“You’ve done a lot for him too.”
A pause, words stuck in your throat. You just look at Alfred through confused eyes. You’re not sure what that means. He’s staring at you with a knowing look. You sigh, shaking your head in denial once more. “No, that’s...that’s not true.”
It’s almost infuriating how stubborn you can be sometimes that it’s even irritating yourself. You’re staring at your fingers, playing with the tag attached to the teabag by a thread. As far as you’re concerned, Bruce is...the greatest friend you’ve ever had. Through thick and thin, he’s been there for you. He’s always there. It’s partly the reason why you have fallen for him in the first place. Hard. He’s easy to love when he wears his heart on his sleeve. It’s rare but it’s beautiful. You almost feel ashamed to be allowed to see him in that light.
“Bruce will do just about anything for you,” Alfred says calmly as he watches you avoid eye contact. “And I know, you’ll do the same for him.” You throw your eyes at the older man as he cops you a look. Your heart is beating so fast, so thunderous, you hear it in your ears. He’s right and you know it. That accidental kiss to your forehead on the night you asked him to come for the play comes back to mind in a flash. It feels like a mark on your forehead, it feels like it’s burning.
“Would you like a scone with that?” He’s pointing to your tea and with that, he’s off to the kitchen once more, leaving you alone with your thoughts.
-
It’s late—a quarter to four in the morning. He spends most of his nights in the Batcave, hidden away from all the sounds and tumult of the world, shrouded in the darkness as the light of the computer screen cascades on his tired eyes. He ambles through the glasshouse, weary feet against hardwood floors, body begging to lay on grey sheets though he dreads a vacant bed.
He strains his eyes peering into the gloom when he perceives a paper bag, sitting idly on the table by the window. Nearing it, there’s a yellow post-it note stuck onto the bag and under the gentle light from the moon that reflects against the lake, he can make out words written on it.
It’s from you.
Thanks for coming to the play. I would have bought you something else, but I’m really broke. Sorry. I owe you one.
A drawn heart follows it. It’s tiny. His chest feels warm.
He should have recognized the paper bag because inside, there are four bagels. Four Asiago bagels. He laughs, it comes out more like a puff of hot air, feeling the warmth that resides in his chest spreading throughout his body.
Then, it hits him like a bullet to the heart. The impact is strong, powerful. Your impact on him is strong, powerful. There’s no mystery to his feelings for you but at this moment, he’s completely certain. For the first time in life.
He loves you.
Bruce staggers into the chair, hand carding back the strands of his hair. He can’t keep doing this to you. Whatever the hell is going on. Your friendship, the...stupid agreement. He wants none of it because it feels like he’s constantly going around in circles.
But what do you really want, Bruce?
TAGLIST
@raineeace
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frostfireft · 3 years
Note
I would love to hear more about Southern Freed and British Laxus. Please, I beg of you, tell me more
Of course! this is combining the AU we made and bits of canon stuff so that it could be used in either context!
Freed:
-Freed has South Eastern southern accent because he grew up moving around the little area where Georgia, Tennessee, and North Carolina meet. (or in canon, whatever the closest equivalent may be. I honestly don’t know)
-He also talks really fucking fast, especially when he’s excited. This causes a lot of his words to turn themselves into weird contractions that can be hard to parse through if you don’t have experience with it. (Contrary to what you might think, if someone has a southern drawl, it doesn’t necessarily mean they speak slowly. It just means they elongate certain vowels and diphthongs sounds or even just the most prominent syllable of the word. (like how “going to” becomes “gonna” but is pronounces like “gun-na” with heavy stress on the first syllable) )
-example for the last one: y’ain’t gonna’lieve thi’shit (you are not going to believe this shit) 
-He has the ability, if he’s not sleep deprived, to completely neutralize his accent. He learned how to do this explicitly because people stereotype southerners as stupid, and he enjoys seeing people’s reactions when he gets done presenting his theses or linguistic findings. He’s using their reactions to them finding out he’s southern and has a deep accent to write another theses about why judging people by their first appearance or based on stereotypes is a terrible thing to do. 
-When he really sleep deprived his words slur so bad that his own momma wouldn’t be able to understand him. 
-He’s written a few books, but no English major would be surprised to learn he’s southern. This is because no matter how well you nuetralize an accent, the tendedency to use certain colloquialisms is usually very present in any author’s style. (examples: Bless your heart, I reckon, pot-kettle, fisticuffs, doohicky, hissy fit, fixin’, Sir/Ma’am, calling a shopping cart a “buggy”)
-has used southern colloquialisms in his runes. This is part of what makes them so hard to fight and decypher. No one fucking understand them on top of them being hard to change regardless.
-He has some of the best insults, be it the super southern ones(“Well that’s about as useful as a screen door on a submarine.” and “She’s a few green beans short of a casserole, but that’s all right”) or just straight up sassy ones (”you’re why the gene pool needs a life guard” and “the bar was low but you brought a shovel”)
-Definitely called Laxus “highfalutin” before they became friends. (pronounced high-fo-loo-tin, means that someone is uppity and thinks their hot shit when they’re not)
-Drinks sweet tea with so much sugar that it’s damn near molasses, but hot tea with very little. 
-Would punch a cop without hesitation, ducktape and wd40 can fix 90% of problems. “If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it,” “if it’s stupid and it works, then it ain’t stupid,” definitely knows how to make and/or owns illegal fireworks, definitely went to a horse camp as a kid and can ride. 
Laxus:
-Grew up in Westminster and has an RP/Queen’s English accent(b-are-th pronounciation. this is the accent that’s  most often mimicked by people and used in movies. once again, in canon he’d have grown up in whatever the most canon equivilent is. probably Crocus, and then he moves in with Makarov after Ivan(fucking cunt) gets arrested)
- He speaks so properly and it’s a drastic contrast to the way he looks.
-and by that I mean. This man has no fashion sense. None. This is because he doesn’t want to be seen as posh, and he decided that dressing like a blind man who ran through a thift store is the way to do it. 
-Tried so hard to get rid of his accent. So. fucking. hard. He hates it because it reminds him of his dad. 
-Insults people while trying to be “nice.” He doesn’t really realize he’s doing it until after he meets Freed and sees the way he intentionally insults assholes while being “kind.” He did not understand why everyone hated him until then. 
-Would punch any other person who sounds and acts posh without hesitation. Makarov is proud of him. 
-Used to drink a shocking about of black and milk tea, but Freed got him to try a bunch of other kinds. He still won’t touch the sweet tea though. 
-His words tend to drip with sarcasm. Most people just think he’s being an asshole, but the few who understand his humor get the biggest kick out of it (Makarov, Freed, Evergreen, Bickslow, and then a few other’s later in life) 
-Would also punch a cop without hesitation. 
-he can’t handle spicy food. Like at all. He feels like he’s dying one bite into anything with crushed red pepper in it. Not that he’ll let anyone know that. 
- Absolutely loves the rain, and not just because of his magic. It makes him remember what little of his childhood was actually nice and plesant. 
-he sunburns really easy because it wasn’t sunny very often where he grew up for the first 12 years of his life. He peels really bad as it heals too. 
Fraxus:
-the first time Laxus spoke to Freed while he was sleep deprived, he had no fucking idea what he was saying. Not a fucking clue. Freed tried four seperate times to seperate his words before just giving up. 
-They argue about what the proper word for something is all the time. All. The. Time. (fries vs chips, cart vs buggy, cookie vs bisciut. 
-Laxus once watched Freed mentally die inside when a waiter offered him sugar packets because there wasn’t actual sweet tea. 
-There aren’t many dishes that they’ll agree on. Especially if they’re arguing about who will do the cooking. 
-Freed has absolutely made the food “too spicy” just to get Laxus back for dumb things. watching his partner die inside from something that barely tingles will never cease to amuse him. 
-They eventually get to a point where parts of their vocabulary make it into the other’s, and soon they have theis weird mix-matched dialect that confuses the shit out of other people. 
-They use their hellish combination of sarcasm and insults disguised as compliments to subtly insult and cuss out homophobes, concervatives, TERFS, and basically any piece of shit they come across. 
-They also argue over whether or not to fix something or buy a new one when it breaks
Laxus: Are you sure it’s safe to fix that with duct tape? 
Freed: Duck tape is insulated enough for this-
Laxus: no it isn’t. It will catch fire if it gets hot enough.
Freed: Toaster’s worked fine with duck tape holdin’ the wire for the past decade. 
Laxus: You fixed the toaster with duct tape?
Freed: It worked, dinit?
-He doesn’t mention that he also added runes to it too explicitly because it’s funny. 
-There’s a lot of stuff like this: “You dumb mother fucker, how did I fall for you?” “Because you tripped.” 
-If you insult one of them, you better believe the other will roast you so thuroughly that a bonfire wouldn’t compare all while the one of them you insulted kicks your ass into the stratsophere. 
-They both have so much respect for each other. So. Much. Respect. They’re completely honest when alone, no sarcasm, no half insults, just them. 
- Even when not alone, they fully trust each other. There’s no one else they trust to have their back the same way, even if Ever and Bicks are close seconds. No one can pick apart their mind and thought process the same way, and it comes from the fact that they argued so much before they were in sync with each other. 
-Once they get to the point of being in sync with one another (let’s be real, it propbably only takes like a year) nothing can get in their way. 
-Freed’s captain of the Raijinshuu for a reason goddamn it, and it’s not just because he and Laxus are together. It’s because he’s strong as fuck, should have been fucking S class, and he’s one of the only people who can talk sense into Laxus. 
-is the last bit partially because they’re together? Yeah probably, but Freed and Laxus are equals damn it. He could at the very least, tie a fight with Laxus. 
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hotchnersbiitch · 4 years
Text
Hands of Another
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A/N: I’m absolutely in love with this request. I hope you guys are too!! Buckle up my friends, its a long one. 
Request: @jojosgirlkat1dluvr
Pairing: Derek Morgan x Reader 
Category: Angst and fluff 
Warning: kidnaping, violence, cursing 
Word count:  2,003 ~ 8min
-
“Good morning good lookin,” Derek says cheekily as you walk into the bullpen, you chuckle as you make your way to your desk, Derek close on your tail. 
“Good morning Derek,” you say with a sweet smile setting your bag down on your desk before flattening down your blouse. 
“I need everyone in the briefing room, we got a case.” Your boss Aaron Hotchner says sternly as he walks into the meeting room. 
“I’ll see ya in there sweet thing,” Derek says with a smile before turning to head to the briefing room, classic Derek you thought to your self. You would never admit it out loud but you had the biggest crush on your coworker and close friend Derek Morgan. You knew better than to think that you had a chance with him, you were nothing like the other girls he has dated in the past. There’s no way in hell he’d ever look at you as anything more than friends. You walk into the briefing room sitting next to Spencer. 
“Hey, Spence.” You say as you sit down patting his back. 
“Hi Y/N.,” he says with a smile as he hands you the case file. When you open it you couldn't help but cringe. You knew this was going to be a tough one. 
“Our unsub is abducting women in St. Louis Missouri, between the ages of 20 and 30, he tortures them before killing them by strangulation. He’s dumping the bodies behind local hospitals.” Hotch says explaining the case to his team. 
“It’s almost like he’s feeling remorse by dumping them outside the hospital,” Emily states looking at the crime scene photos. 
“How would that show remorse, they are already dead the hospital can’t do anything,” Derek says. 
“He thinks that by dumping them at the hospital gives them a ‘chance’ to be saved. He is clearly feeling remorseful after the fact.” You state before Spencer joins in. 
“It is not unusual for unsubs to drop their dead or nearly dead victims outside of healthcare faculties, it makes them feel less guilty by thinking that they are going to be able to be saved making the unsub feel like he’s almost doing the right thing.” Spencer elaborates and you nod in agreement. 
“Either way we have a killer on our hands and we need to hurry before he kills again. Wheels up in thirty.” Hotch says before walking out of the room. 
“Let's go catch this guy team.” You say before heading to your desk to get your go-bag and head to the plane. 
When the plane lands in St. Louis you and the team head straight to the police station to get to work, the whole team knew there wasn't much time until he strikes again. There wasn’t much done besides addressing the profile and checking out the crime scenes. 
“This guy is good Hotch.” You say standing next to him as you both survey the scene.
“Yeah, but we’re better. We better head to the hotel, there's not much we can do, and we're running out of daylight.” Hotch says in his signature authoritarian voice.
“I’m going to stay behind and look around some more, we are missing something, I just know it.” You say, your boss lets out a sigh before nodding, he knew better than to argue with you. You were just so passionate about every case, you could never sleep on a case until it was solved. Hotch gathered the team, before everyone left Derek came up to you. 
“You comin’?” Derek asks placing a hand on your shoulder, you could almost feel yourself physically melt under his touch. 
“No, I told Hotch I’m going to stay behind and look around some more. There's something here we're missing, I’m going to find it.” You say and Derek chuckles, shaking his head. 
“I know you will, you're good at what you do. Be careful, call me when you get to the hotel okay?” You smile a soft blush forming on your cheeks at his sweetness.
“Of course,” you say before Derek walks off and your team heads to the hotel for the night, leaving you alone with the other officers that were still cleaning up the scene. You walk around the scene surveying different areas behind the hospital. By the time you made it to the other side of the building the cops were gone, they offered to wait but you insisted they went, you had your gun and your SUV was only a few yards away. Besides, you weren't afraid of this guy you knew he was a coward.
 You walk up to a dumpster, you don't remember you or anyone else checking it out earlier you went to step up to look into it when you felt something cold press your back. 
It was a barrel of a gun. 
You closed your eyes knowing exactly who it was, your unsub. 
“T-take your gun out and put it in the dumpster. N-now!” the man demanded, you knew better than to argue with him. 
“Alright, alright,” you mutter as you slowly pull the gun out of your holster before reaching up and dropping it into the dumpster. 
“I’m going to l-lead you to my car, you scream or try to run your d-dead.” the man stammers out, he was nervous you figured he would be, this isn't what he's used to. He’s becoming bolder you knew he would kill you if you resisted him. He pushes you to the car jabbing the gun into your back to hurry you up. Once your in the back seat he pistol whips you, then everything went dark. 
Back at the hotel, Derek was waiting for you to call or at least text him to let him know you made it to the hotel. It wasn't unusual for you to stay behind at a scene, you always felt like you could see things clearer when you were alone. And most of the time it did work, you'd discover something you missed before, it was almost like a sixth sense to you. Derek nervous about your whereabouts got up and went to Hotch’s room knocking on the door, he promptly answered looking tired as always. 
“Did Y/N come and get her hotel key from you? She hasn't texted me she's here yet so I didn't know if she got her key and maybe fell asleep forgetting to let me know or something.” Morgan explained, Aaron could tell he was worried. 
“No, she did not. Call her.” Hotchner ordered feeling much more alert now at the fact he didn't know where one of his agents was. 
“Straight to voicemail Hotch, this isn't like her,” Derek said running his hands over his head. 
“Gather the team...now!”
You woke to ice-cold water being poured over you, you gasped and quickly sat up shocked. You looked up and saw the unsub standing over you, an evil smile on his face. Out of nowhere, he yanks you up by your hair, you yelped in pain, you tried to fight back but to no avail. Your hands and feet were bound, the man laughed before dropping you on the floor, you take in a deep breath, you didn't want to fall apart in front of the man. You didn't want him to know you were scared and make him feel powerful. 
“My team is going to find you!” You yell but only to be silenced by being kicked in the face, you could taste the blood in your nose and mouth. 
“No they won’t, you're all too stupid to find me. I sat there and watched you all search the scene and no one even noticed me. You'll end up just like the rest of them.” He says that evil smirk still plastered on his face. 
“Fuck. You.” You state looking him dead in the eyes, his face filled with pure rage at your words. He immediately started beating you, kicking you in the stomach and back repeatedly, stomping on your head, punching you in the face. You tried to take it for as long as you could but the pain was becoming too much, tears started running down your face, mixing with your blood. The man smiled grabbing you by your face making you look at him. 
“Not so tough now huh? Bitch.” he said before spitting in your face and kicking you in the head, you were out like a light. 
You were awakened again, but this time by the man's hands around your throat. You panicked, this was it, you were going to die. You didn't know how long you were out or how long you have been here. Hours? Days? Weeks? You had no idea, all you knew you were scared and wanted out, you tried to squirm under him but he only tightened his grip on your throat. So tight you could feel your trachea being crushed under his grip, you felt like you were about to pass out.
“FBI! Step away from her!” You instantly recognized Aaron's voice, thank god. Your relief was cut short when the man ripped you off the floor and put a blade against your throat. You were gasping for breath your eyes wide as you stared at the wonderful team before you, they were your family, you didn't want to die in front of them. 
“Let her go!” Emily yelled stepping closer to you and the unsub, bad move. The man pressed the knife harder against your throat, he was about to drag it across your neck before gunshots rang out and you fell to the floor again. Derek rushed to your side cutting off the rope that was keeping you bound together, you were still gasping for breath from almost being strangled. 
“MEDIC! I NEED A MEDIC IN HERE NOW!” Derek hollered before looking down at your battered face. 
“You're okay pretty girl, you're gonna be okay.” He said tears stung in his eyes, you started crying clinging to him as EMTs rushed to your side loading you on to the stretcher. 
“Morgan you ride with Y/L/N and we will meet you at the hospital,” Prentiss instructed and he nods running after you, getting into the back of the ambulance with you. Derek held on to your hand as the EMTs addressed your less serious wounds and hooked you up to a morphine drip. 
“I knew you guys would find me.” You say your throat feeling incredibly sore, Derek nods kissing your knuckles, you blushed but you didn't care you were in pain. 
“I wouldn't ever leave until we did. I promise to make sure you're never hurt at the hands of another again. I promise.” Derek says tearing up, you were honestly quite shocked at his reaction.  
“Derek, why are you so worked up. It is okay, I’m okay. They got me hooked up to drugs, I feel better already.” You say with a small chuckle trying to lighten the mood but Derek didn't budge. 
“No Y/N I’m serious. I love you so much and I’ve been too much of a coward to admit it to you. Then he took you and I was so worried I was never going to be able to tell you how I really felt.” He says tears now streaming down it his cheeks, you were flabbergasted at his confession, you started crying too squeezing his hand that was still holding on to yours. 
“I love you too Derek. I’ve been afraid to admit my feelings also.” You say softly and Derek smiles kissing your hand. 
“I’m going to protect you, I'll never let anything like that happen to you again. I promise.” He says standing up in the ambulance and placing a soft kiss on your busted lip before sitting back down. You just smiled at him, you knew he would. At that moment you knew that Derek would love and protect you to the best of his ability, and you promised to do the same for him. 
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razrbladekiss · 3 years
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Tyrants | Chapter Four - Peril
WORD COUNT: 5.1k
WARNINGS: Mentions of death, drug use, Tig being Tig. The usual SOA shit. Sorry Donna..
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She always saw the beauty in darkness. The lugubrious belle that came alongside the moon and stars and whatever else lurked amidst the murk of nighttime.
Isla was cliche in that sense.
She was cliche in the sense that she adored watching the sun set, swallowed by the mountains and high-rise buildings as the evening fell and Charming was painted black.
And maybe it was mostly melancholic because of the horrors that swathed that small town, but it was still beautiful nonetheless.
She still liked to bask in the scenery, to discern the marvel of her home, from the highest point she could access. And, sometimes, she liked to take somebody along with her so she wasn't completely alone.
"Why'd you still come up here?" Ope asked, pulling himself onto the roof as she sat with her back to the wall--puffing on a cigarette.
"Because it's quiet." She was content, comfortable with her response. "And whenever I'm looking for Jax, or Gem, or my dad--or they're looking for me--this is where we're almost always found. Just people watching, or reminiscing, or having a few minutes to ourselves away from the chaos downstairs."
It wasn't an unknown safe space--Gemma had told her that JT and Clay would climb up there during the earliest days of the club--but it was special.
Jax, Opie, and Isla spent time up there as kids, too. Because they were bastards and were always running from their fathers--and den mother--and the roof of the clubhouse was their go-to.
She never really got out of that habit. She'd spend hours up there if she could, just watching as Charming bustled beneath her. And she liked that it was separate to the garage, but everyone knew where to find her if they needed her.
"It clears your head, being up here." She added. "I have got so much shit going on right now--between work, and my personal life--but coming up here is like a refreshment, I guess."
Opie understood what she meant because he was also seeking comfort in the night. Riding through dusk, spending time alone on his bike as he cruised the streets of his quaint town, relishing in the darkness because it was strangely comforting to him.
He liked to be alone. His thoughts were brutal and they seared his brain left and fucking right, but he liked his own company.
"Wish I thought about comin' up here when I was released from holding." The man chuckled, balancing a cigarette between his lips. "Stahl grilled the fuck outta me."
"She did?"
"Yeah. She really fuckin' did." He added, grunting as smoke blew from his nostrils. "Did she get you? I know she got Gemma."
"Nope, she didn't. I don't know why, though. She interrogated everyone else. Starting to feel a little left out."
Opie chuckled, smiling a bit. "Be glad. It's obvious that she's used to getting what she wants."
"And did you give it to her?"
"Fuck no." Isla smiled. Proud. "She can cross-examine me all she fuckin' wants—I'll never sell the club out."
"They know that, Ope."
"I know." Half confidently, he nodded. "Just—Stahl made me second guess it all, y'know?"
Nobody in Charming--aside from the PD--knew where that despicable bitch came from, and nobody cared to ask.
What they did know, though, was that she had her heart set on making that town a living fucking hell as she strived to eradicate the Sons of Anarchy by getting to its members.
She'd grilled everyone she could've. She cornered Gemma when she was out running errands, leaving the grocery store with a sour taste in her mouth when Teller told her where to fucking shove it.
Same went for Jax, and Clay, and Chibs, and Tig, and...Well, all of them told her to get fucked, actually.
None of them caved. None of them wanted to sell the club out because there was no reason to.
Well, there was a reason to, but no desire to.
There'd been murders. Three, to be specific. And one of them just happened to be a police officer--which was quite unlucky, but it wasn't awful.
They hated cops.
What they hated more, however, was the idea of getting caught by them. And Clay was. Somehow, anyway.
Piney's old "friend"--Nate Meineke--needed quality, albeit illegal, guns with no traceability to attack the convoy that was transporting one of his friends from point A to point B. And it went as swimmingly as possible...
Until June Stahl was put on the case and found that idiot's phone at the scene after dropping it mid-ambush.
Clay just happened to be the last person he had called. Which then caused the investigation to point toward Charming.
They all knew the Sons were guilty of supplying those weapons. Who else would it have been? They were known for running illegal firearms without batch numbers from a quaint Californian town whose name didn't quite fit its image.
It was blatant, though nobody gave it up.
But Stahl tried her damndest to get answers. And when she didn't, she targeted the member that she saw to be the most vulnerable--after a hit went wrong and he failed to cover his tracks--and Opie just happened to be that guy.
She questioned him for hours. She practically held the man captive in that little cell until he caved. But he didn't--and he wasn't going to, either.
He was loyal. That's one of the reasons why Jax wanted to patch him back in.
"Yeah, I know." Isla got to her feet when she heard Tig yelling for her downstairs. "But you're the strongest guy I know, Ope. I don't think Stahl, of all people, is gonna get to you."
He shrugged her off, flicking the butt of his cigarette to the gravelly ground of the roof.
Opie had changed. Not much, and it wasn't very apparent, but he'd changed. Chino had changed him, she thought.
He was still dedicated to his club, still in love with the reaper and the responsibility that came with the patch--but Opie Winston lacked that flicker of enthusiasm now.
"How does your dad feel about you being back at the table?"
"Said he's proud of me."
He was a man of very, very few words. But the tone that he took--the sheer relief twined into contentment--spoke a greater volume.
Piney would always support his son, feel a sense of gratification from his involvement in the club. And, of course, Ope felt grateful to be back--but it was different now.
He'd served time for his club. Donna consistently argued that they sold him out and that he was fucking stupid for running back into the arms of SAMCRO.
But it was his brotherhood. The Sons of Anarchy were his family--his lifeline. He was nothing if not blessed to be patched back in.
"And I guess that wife of yours isn't too happy about it?"
"How'd you reach that conclusion?"
"Well," she ignored that Tig was waiting for her, standing directly in front of him. "If she was genuinely thrilled about you being back here, she'd have been coming to Gemma's dinners, and spending more time at the clubhouse with us. But she isn't, and I'm starting to realize that she probably hates me now."
His head shook. "She doesn't hate you. It's just...It's just raw. Weird being back, I think."
"She didn't even have to leave. She knows that."
Donna did know that. But there was always something about Gemma. About the way she let things slide so often, how she felt that she had Clay so pussy whipped that he'd be at her every beck and call--but, really, that was redundant. Because Gemma let him get away with fucking murder.
Literally.
"Is she gonna be there tonight?
"Of course. She wouldn't miss Jax's son coming home." He got up, reaching for her hands. "Sorry that she's been so distant with you, Isla. But she's just been stressed out--money worries and the kids and stuff, y'know?"
"Yeah, I know."
Donna wasn't traditionally a worrier. But five years worth of finances, being a single mom, and fretting over her husband potentially not making it out of prison alive, just did that to a woman.
"Anything I can do to help?"
"I don't think so." Grateful for her offering, though recognizing how damn stubborn his wife was, he conceded. "Thanks, though."
"Anytime. And if you change your mind, or need me, you know where I am--"
"Isla!"
"He is getting on my last fucking nerve today." She groaned, flipping Tig off as she looked over the ledge. "I'm coming! Give me a minute!"
"I've given you plenty of minutes! Just get your ass down here!"
"Just go," Ope chuckled, leaning down to peck her cheek. "We can have this talk another time."
Isla turned back to him, frowning. "Are you sure?"
"Absolutely. Go 'n talk to him--I'll see you tonight."
He was such a nice guy. So considerate, kind.
She loved him a lot.
The flouncy sundress rose to the middle of her thighs as she sauntered through the clubhouse, hearing Trager talking--rather conspicuously, though slightly muffled--to somebody on his cell.
"C'mon, Tiggy. Why'd you yell at me?"
He waved his hand to shut her up, gesturing for the blonde to follow him out of the clubhouse and toward his bike.
"Yeah, cool. K, brother--see 'ya later. Bye." He hung up and slid the phone into the pocket of his cut, swiveling to face Isla with a smile. "You ready?"
"For what?"
"The party?" Tig told her, watching confusion sweep over her face. "I'm taking you over 'cuz you want a drink and don't wanna drive home after? And that you're probably gonna end up heading home with Juice, or something--"
"Juice?"
"It always happens," he shrugged, pointing at the helmet he set out for her at the back of his bike. "We all head out, you get too drunk, you take a liking to Juicy, and you try to ride his dick."
"What?" Isla got herself situated behind him as he got on first, her arms wound around his waist. "That was one time. I've only slept with him once, and I told you it'd never happen again."
"And why is that?"
Her cheeks flushed red, the engine revving sending vibrations through her entire frame.
"Because he was too gentle." Tig's foot collided with the kickstand.
"And the little Catholic girl likes it rough."
She felt the solid gold crucifix burning a hole into her chest.
"Yes. I like it rough." He groaned, leaning into her. She swatted at his chest over his shoulder, laughing heartily. "Just take me to see the baby, dickhead."
The bike sped out of the lot and Isla was loving the thrill of being on two wheels. She'd always liked being stuck to the back of somebody's Harley--but she'd never own one herself.
Isla was like Gemma. She felt stable enough riding with somebody, but riding alone--being in control of the motorcycle--was fucking terrifying.
Jax and Opie had encouraged her to take a ride at one point, but it didn't end very well, and Chibs spent the best part of two hours trying to stitch his daughter back up whilst Gemma castigated the two imbeciles who thought it was even reminiscent of a good idea.
Weaving through traffic gracefully, freely, was appealing to her, however. But she wouldn't be caught dead--alone--on a fucking bike.
Plus, she quite enjoyed being taken places. Escorted by a member of the club. It was safe.
The wind whirred and whipped around them, and she wished she didn't make the effort with her hair tonight. It was ruined, tousled to within an inch of its life, and she dreaded the thought of having to brush the knots out in Jax's bathroom.
Still, commuting via Harley was a hell of a lot quicker and had a few more benefits than commuting via car.
But the looks that they got were piercing. Horrible. Mainly from Hale stationed beside his squad car, watching as Isla and Tig raced down the freeway.
"He likes you." He spoke over the roaring engine when he hit the first stop light all night. "He hates that you've never given him a chance--"
"He's a cop, and I'm the outlaw's daughter. I've been raised to hate his kind."
Tig nodded his approval, setting off once again when the light switched to green and all opposing traffic stood still.
At one strange point in time, David Hale had his sights set on Isla Telford. He was in love with her. Completely besotted.
And she never gave him a second glance because, for one, she wasn't interested. He hated that she was so close to Jax and Opie, but not him, and he wished that she'd push herself away from the bad guys to grow closer to the heroic law-enforcer.
But he was a control freak above everything else, and Isla was just a free-spirit. She was loyal to her friends and family but she didn't want to get tied down, and she didn't want to become friendly with a fucking cop.
The only cop she liked was crooked. And Unser was in a similar spot to her--a little too affiliated with SAMCRO, but not completely doted on. Though, they were both strangely essential fixtures, and Clay would've been lost without them.
"Juice is here." Tig taunted as he helped her off the bike, holding her hand when she stumbled over herself a little. "Try to keep those panties on."
"Can't make any promises, Tiger." Her growl was seductive, though he knew that she was fucking with him.
She'd given up rebuking his claims, instead feeding into them because, with Trager, she couldn't seem to win. He was sleazy, and she loved that back and forth.
What she loved more, though, was that he was comfortable. He was a strange man, and nobody really understood just where he came from, but Isla liked that she could make jokes of any kind around him. He was easy to get along with. Easy to love.
And, man, did she love Alex Trager.
"If you do fuck him, though, would you make a video?"
Isla stepped into Jax's front room, turning on her heels. "Who said that we haven't already got one?"
She chuckled and wandered into the party, leaving Tig with a few convoluted thoughts and even more raunchy questions.
"Fuck. Gemma taught her well." He grumbled under his breath, reaching for the beer in Half-Sack's hand.
He slumped on the couch, motioning for his usual lay to sit in his lap as he watched Juice fawn over his little blonde friend making conversation with some other random woman already.
"Yeah, totally..." she agreed with whatever the girl was saying, but her eyes were glued on Tara. Just floating around the party.
She felt bad that the doctor was alone. Despite all that she thought of her, being out of ones depth in such an intimidating setting wasn't very nice. And Isla was an empath.
"D'ya think anyone 'round here has any nail glue?"
"Gemma might." She smiled, pointing toward the kitchen.
Grateful that she managed to shake that one off, Isla weaved through the small conclave and sat beside Tara, offering a friendly face during a time of such discomfiture.
Her heart was aching, the sheer nervousness was palpable, and she knew that Tara felt the same way too.
But Isla just sucked it up. Because she wanted to talk to her, and had to be the one to initiate it.
"Thanks for coming." Her smile was wide, genuine.
She offered a beer to the brunette, hoping that she'd take it.
"Thanks for asking me here." Tara accepted it, glad that Isla remembered she wasn't particularly a wine girl like herself.
Christ. This is awkward.
"Trust me, you were the first person I asked to come tonight."
"How so?"
"Well," a little bit more comfortably, she faced her completely, "you've literally nursed Abel back to health. You've been there every step of the way. You've been the best surgeon. And, as much as I hate to say it, you helped Wendy so much, Tara. I'm really thankful for all that you've done for this family."
"It's my job." She tried to brush the comments off, but her heart definitely fluttered at the praise.
Isla never changed. She was still the sweetest soul, she thought.
"I know, but you've had it rough with this lot--with Gemma, I mean."
"She isn't anything I can't handle." Confidently, she asserted.
"I know, and I'm glad that you're able to stand your ground." Reluctant, a hand landed against Tara's palm.
She jolted a little bit, but softened into the embrace.
It was comfy, warm. Prosperous, perhaps, because it meant something. Tara not jerking away and leaving once Isla offered a friendly embrace, was promising.
They spoke about the baby for a little while, and shared a few laughs at Tig's expense. It was strange, really. To be talking to her ex-best friend was strange, but she'd missed it.
Donna joined the mix, too, and it was starting to feel like old times. Isla recognized that they'd never slip back into that routine, the dedication to one another that they'd known when they were kids--but it was nice.
The conversation stuttered and it wasn't able to flow as freely as what she might've liked, but it was a start.
To know that she had something resembling an acquaintanceship with two women she admired, was nice.
And Jax introducing his baby to his brand new home, to his extended family that were already so fucking dedicated to him, was just the most wonderful thing ever.
"What about a beer?" Clay joked, holding the bottle close to Abel. Jax laughed, though he shook his hand away. "What? Grandpa can't give him his first beer?"
"No, he can't."
"I'll take it, though. If you're offerin'." Chibs grabbed the Budweiser and twisted the cap with the leather grip of his glove.
He gestured to Isla, tipping it toward her. "Want some?"
"No, you're alright." She went back to her wine, smiling at that little bundle of happiness in Jax's arms, wondering how the hell he'd gotten to be in this position now.
But it was because of Tara. Her commitment, her talent, and sheer want to help that angel through the roughest patch that a baby could have possibly been thrust into.
How Gemma could still loathe that girl--after everything she did--was beyond her completely.
Tara was the unlikeliest hero in Abel's story.
"Why is it that every time I see you, your highlights get more chunky?" Gemma smiled at the comment, turning to see her favorite girl, flaunting the most beautiful smile.
She handed Isla the bottle of whatever wine Chibs could get this evening, unable to quit beaming at the thought of her grandson finally being at home. Where he belonged.
"I told you I'd do them for you, Gem."
"I know," she nodded, playing with a few strands of hair, "I was gonna ask you, but you've been a little distant this week--didn't wanna add to your workload, baby."
"That's super considerate of you. Are you alright?" Isla teased, holding a hand to Gemma's forehead.
She slapped it away with a laugh. "Fuck you. I'm always considerate."
"Sure you are. That's why Wendy is here, right?"
"No," her head shook, "she's here 'cuz this is her house. If I had it my way, she'd be out on her ass faster than what you could even say 'crank whore.'"
Isla wiped at her lips with the back of her hand, tipping her head toward the blonde in the living room.
"I thought you made sure she was gonna be here tonight?" Confused, she quizzed.
She was under the impression that Wendy was starting to grow on her. After she'd tried to kill her, of course.
"I did," Gem confirmed. "But only because I knew it'd be awkward between her and Tara."
Amazed, or maybe fucking horrified, Isla simply glared at her.
It should've been obvious to her--plain as day--that Gemma Teller doing a good thing was simply a bullshit facade, built in order to take away from the fact she wanted to do an inherently bad thing.
But Isla liked to see the good in people, so it wasn't. And that really was one of her mot fatal flaws.
"She thanked me for letting her stay, too."
"And what'd you say to her?" Almost as if she didn't want to know the answer, she asked.
Black nails danced along the rim of her wine glass as she leaned against the counter, watching everybody enjoy themselves as they bitched and moaned.
"That she's lucky to be alive."
"Jesus, Gem," her head shook disparagingly, disappointed perhaps.
But being surprised that the woman made a threatening comment toward Wendy, was just as stupid as being surprised at Tig for fucking another hooker during his free time.
"You've gotta keep her close, ma. She's the mother of your grandson, the woman your son did love at one point."
Ma. The word rolled off her tongue unintentionally most of the time, but she didn't hate it.
Gemma was the mother figure in her life--hell, she was the mother figure in a few of the Sons' lives--and it didn't feel weird using that around her. It was affectionate. She adored it.
"Jax never loved her," matter of fact, she retorted. "They got drunk together. They smoked dope together. They didn't love one another--"
"They got married." Isla reminded her. "They have a kid together. They have a lot of history."
"Just because they have history, doesn't mean they love one another. You've got history with him."
Her chuckle was throaty, almost a full-on splutter. "We have not got that same history--we're friends, Gem, you know that's different."
She supposed the blonde was right.
There was hell of a contrast between friends for life and friends with benefits--and Gemma knew that. She just didn't like that Jax gravitated toward Wendy when he'd always had Isla right there in front of him.
Though, she was more than aware that the pair didn't look at each other that way--she still lauded the thought of the two together.
"I still hate her."
"I know," Isla laughed at Gemma's irritability, sipping on her wine, enjoying the sight of everybody having a damn good time.
"She's checking into rehab, too."
"Really? Where?"
"Some place in Oakland, I think." Gemma added, smiling at Clay when he wandered over to the pair. "But you didn't hear that from me."
"You think she's gonna stick to it?"
"Couldn't tell 'ya." He answered for his wife, leaning in to press a chaste kiss to Isla's cheek. "She's determined though, I'll give her that."
"Yeah?" His nod was optimistic--strange for Clay Morrow. "Well, I'm glad she's working on herself, anyway. She's got potential."
"You hate her."
"I know." She didn't refute the assertion. "But I'm still happy for her."
At least somebody is.
She wasn't lying. Wendy was a good girl, a woman tortured for no good reason. And she felt for her, she really did.
It'd been a shock, finding out that she was pregnant. But it wasn't like they weren't expecting it--what with the rate she and Jax were going at it.
From the start, Isla and Gemma were worried. She was notorious for her crank habit and the girls thought she was going to kill herself before she had the chance to see her son into the world.
And that almost happened, didn't it?
The doctors at St. Thomas were fucking miracle workers--Isla was on pins and needles waiting for a call to say that Wendy and Abel were okay.
But she tried not to dwell on that, now. They were both as healthy and Abel was as happy as he could've been, so Isla was content. She wasn't pleased, but she was comfortable with the way that things were going.
Tara, however.
"No!" She yelled, backing out of the nursery. "No, fuck you, Jax."
Juice stumbled backward when she nudged him out of the way, pulling her purse from the kitchen counter.
Isla and Gemma couldn't not stare.
"Tara, c'mon!" Jax called after her, but it was too late.
The front door had been slammed shut and the party came to a complete standstill. A thickening tension was shrouding the group, and things were only just starting to simmer.
"What was that all about?" The blonde asked Juice, leaning against the island.
She didn't want to prove Tig to be right but, after a few glasses of wine, Juan Carlos Ortiz was starting to pique her interests.
He swallowed thickly, watching Clay leave the room. "He said something about Wendy--wanting to keep whatever it is that he and Tara have going on the down low so it doesn't set her off, or something."
Makes sense.
"He has a point. She's doing really well lately." He continued. "Jax would hate to stunt her progress by shoving his relationship with Tara in her face."
Isla was rattled.
Jax hadn't talked to her in days, and she wasn't aware that so much had changed. She wasn't aware that he had established a relationship with Tara Knowles.
Again.
You know what they're like--like two fucking magnets or something. They always find a way back to one another.
She was too irritated to reside in that same room as Gemma, now. Knowing the conversation she'd initiate the second that Juice left was too fucking much. So she left first, instead.
The living room was almost empty. Just Clay, Bobby, Tig, and Chibs sat around the couches as Donna, the kids, and Ope were preparing to set off.
Everything was annoying her, now. She hadn't made the effort with Donna all night, but she was pissed that she hadn't started to say goodbye to her yet.
Isla was so fucking irritated that she didn't even want to talk to Tig, or her father. So she didn't.
"Where're you going, petal?" Chibs asked, hindering her plan to keep her mouth shut for the rest of the night. He knew that she'd crack a smile at the nickname.
"I was just wandering. Not really sure what to do with myself."
"Come sit down," he gestured to the space between himself and Tig, and wound an arm around her when she met the leather. "I've missed 'ya."
"Tonight? Or just in general."
"In general. It's been a few days, love."
"I know, I'm sorry." Her head rested against his Sgt. At Arms patch, and she sighed. "Work has been so fucking busy and I feel like I haven't gotten a moment to myself this week."
Isla only worked a part-time gig at some shitty salon just on the outskirts of Charming--edging into Stockton--but she hated her job.
She hated driving into the city every morning and evening, wasting a fuck ton of her paycheck on gas when, really, there was no point.
She hated her cunt boss.
Hated her cunt clients.
She hated that nobody really spoke to her because of who her father was. And when they did speak to her, it was almost like they were scared. Of Isla.
Gemma had always promised her that there was a space at the auto shop for her had she needed it, but she couldn't think of anything worse than having to answer to Gemma and Clay every single day.
Well, more than what she already was, anyway.
"Who'd 'a thought that being a hairdresser was so demanding?"
"Me, apparently." She joked, watching Tig get up and leave the room.
It'd turned somber. A little too bleak for her liking, but she guessed that everyone felt a bit awkward after Tara stamped out and Jax sat on his porch. Alone. With a bottle of whiskey.
She hated the hold that woman had over him sometimes. The way he was so fucking devoted to Tara Knowles that she could literally slap him, scream in his face, and ruin his son's homecoming party--and he would still pine for her.
She'd never understand that.
And she didn't understand how such a lively bunch of individuals had mellowed out over the course of two hours, either.
The party had disappeared. Dissipated into nothing and the atmosphere she once lauded was completely dead in the water.
It was fucking grim, and she couldn't wait to head home.
"Can I come with you tonight?"
"Why'd you even ask? Y'know you're welcome to come home with your old man whenever you want." Chibs told her a little bit stern, though it was essentially full of love.
She just smiled up at him, a bit buzzed. But she was having a good-ish time and who was he to chastise her for drinking a little too much tonight?
"Wanna head off now?"
"Yeah--lemme just say 'bye' to Gemma."
"Alright, I'll be out front. Don't forget your purse." He reminded, knowing she was too ditsy for her own good.
Chibs helped her to her feet, letting go of her hand only to part ways for a few moments.
Her mood was perking up, now. The prospect of being able to spend a few hours with her dad after a long fucking day, was just the best.
And she'd really missed him. Missed the time they once had an abundance of. Missed the evenings that they'd spend talking, drinking, watching movies, doing the generic father daughter activities.
They hadn't had that for a while, and it was truly a blessing that it was within reach tonight.
Well. It was within reach for all of five minutes.
"Oh my God--" Gemma's cell slipped from between black nails and bounced across the table. Saturated hues were locked on Isla, and her head shook.
"What?"
"There's--there's been an accident." She managed to muster out. "Or, maybe a drive-by, I don't know, but Donna--"
"Donna?" Piney's attention was snatched at the mention of his daughter-in-law. He stood up. "What about her?"
Isla knew the answer. She knew what Gemma was going to say because it was just the usual now, wasn't it?
Being affiliated with SAMCRO just did that to somebody. Man, woman, child. They didn't fucking care.
"She's--Piney, she's dead."
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Tips and Tricks
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Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader
Warnings: Spencer scares you for a second. And your mom is disappointed.
A/N: I know I have so many things going at once but I couldn’t help myself with this! I’m sorry. Forgive me. Like, comment, reblog, send me asks and shit. I love you! Enjoy!
___
A true book enthusiast knows that the most beautiful smell in the world can be found in the middle of a book. Whether it’s old and it’s pages are yellowed with age, or its so new that the text wipes off onto your hands when you open the cover, the smell is like a drug that gets your engine running the way no actual drug ever could.
It’s that thought that makes your pull your car into the nearly deserted parking lot of the bookstore as the rain crashes around you. You’ve seen enough ID Channel to know that waiting for the storm to pass while parked on the side of the road is about as dangerous as walking into a serial killer club meeting with a sign around your neck that reads, ‘kill me, I look like every person who has ever wronged you in life.’
Pulling your bag up over your head, you dash inside as fast as you can. The bell rings through the empty store, the smell of books hitting your senses and putting you at ease.
Even with your bag over your head, your hair is drenched and your clothes stick to your body in the most uncomfortable way possible. The store is manned by one forlorn looking teenage girl with short black hair, you can hear the gum she’s smacking behind the desk from four feet away.
Classical music filters down from the speakers, nestling among the thousands of books that take up every available space in the room. While some books fill the floor to ceiling bookshelves, the rest have been stacked on the floor like a maze of knowledge. Some stacks go up so high that even if you stand on your toes and stretch your arm as high as you could, you would still be a good ten five-hundred paged books from the top.
Every turn into the book maze reveals another secret of the store, like the collection of vinyls tucked into a corner beneath a record player that is older than your grandmother. Down a narrow path of towering novels, is a small reading nook with two red armchairs that have seen their fair share of readers.
It feels like you’ve stumbled upon the house of an immortal book-lover, the rugs that stretch across the floor feeling just as ancient as the words around you. But it’s peaceful, relaxing. You find yourself humming along to Chopin’s Nocturnes, Op. 9: No. 2, the spines of books bumping under your finger. Unsure how the books are organized, or even if they are, you’ve decided to look at the book your finger is on once the song is over.
When the last notes fade into a brief quietness, you stop on a book written by a ‘David Rossi.’ You can’t help the breathy laugh that comes from your chest in surprise that the first book you look at is a true crime novel.
Ever since you were a little girl, stealing your mom’s police badge to play ‘cops and robbers,’ and sneaking into her office to read case files you weren’t supposed to, you’d been in love with the puzzle-solving of the investigative world. You’ve always had a mind for finding clues no one thought to look for, it was the only reason you didn’t get in trouble when you left sticky notes full of observations and theories in your mother’s case files.
It was this background that made everyone around you so sure you would become a detective just like your mom. It was this same background that surprised everyone when you became an author instead. To say your mother was disappointed was an understatement, she’d been the most shocked when you showed her a four hundred page manuscript instead of an application for the police academy.
“Who gets a master’s in criminology only to write books?!”
Even still, she was the dedication in every book you published. So far, that was two, you’d been in the midst of your third book for four months now. Something about the story didn’t feel right, and no matter how many times you rewrote every page, it still didn’t click together the way the first two books had.
You don’t let the thought bug you as you flip open the hardcover, the pages falling to the side as you read the synopsis printed to the inside flap. The ringing of the bell barely registers in your mind, falling somewhere behind the book in your hands, the sound of the rain beating at the roof, and Beethoven’s Sonata No. 8. After reading the first page, you decide to give the book a chance and you tuck it beneath your arm for safe keeping.
This time, you turn your eyes up to the tops of the shelves, scanning for something that might be interesting. Each binding tells a story of its own, with spines creased from frequent readings or smooth spines begging to be cracked open. There are titles in gold and black, silver and red, the backgrounds varying in more colors than the words.
By the time you’ve wandered back to the reading nook with armchairs strategically placed to face each other at a diagonal, Beethoven is coming to a close. The notes vibrate for just a moment, and you choose the book tucked into the end with a dark purple cover and gold lettering. You can’t quite see the title but something tells you that this is something you want to read, that this books is going to be a good one.
Call it a reader’s instinct.
It’s just that, there are no step ladders to get to the top shelf and you aren’t exactly tall enough to reach it. Climbing the shelf just sounds dangerous, and you aren’t too eager to die at the hands of hundreds of books and a large bookcase. You contemplate moving one of the armchairs to assist you, but ultimately decide against it when you imagine that teenage girl coming to the back with a disappointed look on her face at the sight of you.
Instead you stretch like your life depends on it, your toes cramping a little as you push up on them as high as you can go. The tips of your fingers bump the spine when you curve your hand around the lip of the shelf. The wood digs into your wrist but maybe if you keep pushing and pulling at what you can grab, it will wiggle itself free.
That’s your plan until a warm body unintentionally brushes against you, an arm longer than yours coming up beside you and taking the book from its place up high with ease. Falling back to your feet, you’re quick to turn around and come face to face with a man you’ve never met before.
His expression is kind and gentle, crinkling his eyes and dimpling his cheeks when he offers you a shy smile and the book he grabbed for you. He’s definitely in the department of tall, tilting his head down a little to meet your gaze with eyes that you can’t quite describe as brown but you can’t quite describe as hazel either. Everything about him makes your heart stutter in your chest, from the color and shape of his lips, to the sharp cut of his jawline.
He’s curls himself down a little, his empty hand palm up and open as if he is trying to seem less threatening. It’s such a stark contrast to most of the men you meet, who invade your personal space and eyeball your breasts like they’re human bra size detectors.
You don’t realize you’ve been staring until he clear his throat, a dusty pink color rising to his cheekbones as he shuffles nervously in his spot. Blinking away the cloud of initial shock from the angelic being before you, you grab the book and mumble a ‘thank you.’
“Are you a big fan of David Rossi?” He says, shoving his hands deep into the recesses of his pockets.
“Who?” Internally, your facepalm yourself at the absolute stupidity that must be radiating off of you in waves strong enough to affect the whole population of Virginia.
“You’re holding two of his books.” Sure enough, not only is the book tucked under your arm David Rossi, but so is the book in your hands. The laugh that sputters out of you is even more surprised than the first laugh, the sheer coincidence of grabbing two random books by the same author in this whole building pulling the laughter from the pits of your stomach.
His lips flicker into a confused smile. It makes him that much more adorable.
“I was choosing books my eyes or finger landed on when the song ended. I couldn’t really figure out how everything is arranged so I thought I’d let the music decide for me.” He looks around now, his male-lead, love-interest eyes flying across the room to confirm that there really was no form of originization, his brows furrowing in thought. His bottom lips is sucked between his teeth and the vividness of the lewd fantasies that come from the small action are enough to push you back a step.
Only, you’re already pretty close to the bookcase, and when you step back to get some distance your back bumps into the wood and his hand comes up to cradle the back of your head to keep it from hitting the corner. You’re not even sure how he knew to react so fast, those eyes coming back to meet yours.
“Careful there, your head almost hit the shelf behind you.” Putting just a little pressure on the back of your neck to guide you out of harms way, he doesn’t let go until his back is to the case and you’re standing in his old spot. The new smile he gives you is lopsided, causing your heart to trip over itself. What you wouldn’t give in that moment to capture that smile on camera or canvas, to hold onto it forever.
You don’t even know this man, what are you thinking?!
Pulling the books to your chest like a shield for your heart, which has digressed to the same emotional maturity you had as a thirteen year old girl when you were in love with every member of New Kids On the Block, you tighten your grip around the covers to the point that your knuckles turn white.
“I’m (Y/N).” Somehow his smile brightens even more.
“I’m Spencer.”
“Are you hiding from the rain too, Spencer?” Everything about you hates small talk, you always wanted to jump straight into the nitty gritty of getting to know someone. You wanted to know what made them tick, what made them who they were. But you were willing to do the normal thing and lure him into an actual conversation, if only to keep him talking.
“Actually, I came to this bookshop with a specific purpose.” Spencer schools his features, suddenly all business. The brown blazer with elbow patches and the lavender button up certainly help to make him appear serious. You still imagine reaching for the dark purple tie around his neck and pulling his lips to yours, the severity of his expression only adding to his sexiness.
“I work in the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI, I came here because I’m in the middle of an investigation that led me here,” You blink in surprise, all kinds of questions popping into your mind. “You see, I got a tip that I may find it here. I wasn’t sure, but after some looking around it appears they were right.”
You open your mouth to ask him what he’s talking about, thinking of all the local cases you’ve heard about in the last week or so. Nothing that would involve the FBI comes to mind, especially not the BAU.
Between the end of his sentence and the opening of your mouth, Spencer has time to reach out to the side of your head, his fingers brushing against a few strands of hair.
“I only want to know two things; how you got ahold of my favorite pen, and why you thought you could get away with it?” Balanced in his thumb and index finger is a black pen, the writing tip pointed toward the ceiling. He holds it between you, a silly grin stretched across his face as you reach up to touch your ear.
Of course you’ve seen the old ‘coin behind the ear’ trick before, never with a pen but it’s the same concept. It’s just so funny and out-there that you cant help being a little amazed.
“Is this how you flirt with women, Agent?”
“Actually it’s Doctor. Doctor Reid,” he smugly goes about tucking the pen back into the breast pocket of his blazer, you can briefly recall it being there before he distracted you by switching places just seconds ago, “I do work with the BAU, that wasn’t a ruse. I have my credentials if you want me to prove it.”
He isn’t boastful, he’s just trying to distract you from the answer to your question. The answer was yes, this is how he flirts with women. It was the only way he knew how to flirt with women that worked, having stuck to the method since Atlanta, Georgia. You wouldn’t be the first woman who thought it was cute, you were the first woman to call him on it though.
“As long as you don’t try to arrest me for the kidnapping of your pen, I’ll be inclined to believe you without proof.” He chuckles, the first time you’ve heard it since the both of you started talking, and you didn’t realize he could get better. The sound warmed every part of you so much that you felt like you were glowing from inside.
“I knew you were framed. I’ve had my suspicions on the girl running the store.” You nod your head, trying to keep the smile from pulling on your lips as you tuck a piece of your still wet hair behind your ear.
“I knew something hinky was happening with her.”
“My best law enforcement advice is to always trust your gut when it comes to crime, ma’am.”
With the ice broken thanks to the magical Dr. Reid, the conversation flows naturally between you. You both gravitate toward each other like opposite ends of magnets, unaware how close you are to touching until you absentmindedly kick your foot out and hit the tip of his shoe with your own. In an attempt to keep yourself rooted, you sit in the armchairs.
Anyone, FBI profiler or not, would have been able to tell what was going on when they found you both leaned against the arms of your seats, heads together as Reid explained how the serious looking man in the back of your book is actually one of his team members. He names all of his team members, affectionately describing them to you as if they were characters in a new book you were reading.
Normally he would keep all of this information reserved, but something about you made him feel so at ease.
You too, reveal more information than you normally would to a stranger you’d just met. You tell him about your books and your mother, you tell him how you aren’t sure why your newest book isn’t working and ask his advice on it all. He takes each question into careful consideration before answering.
It isn’t until you’ve been there for two hours, talking about anything that you could think of, that Spencer’s phone starts to ring. It’s a case. You want to ask, the young girl from your childhood coming out at the mention of a case you could help on, but you don’t.
“I’m really sorry, (Y/N), but I have to go.” He fluidly rises from his seat, all at once the carefree air falls around him to reveal the intelligent, elegant, crime-fighting, doctor underneath the nerdy, magic-loving young man you’d spent the last couple of hours getting to know.
“I’ll walk you to the door.” You offer, hoping to figure out a way to cheekily ask for his number before you make it there. His answering smile is infectious, reaching out and tugging your own cheeks into a smile that hurts. The books hit the wood of the desk with a thunk, Spencer standing just beside you as the girl, her name tag reads ‘RAveN,’ rings up your purchase.
“Watch out for your pens.” Spencer teases, that boy-like amusement coming out. You’ve noticed that when he tries to make a joke, he looks so nervous that you won’t get it in the seconds immediately following it. It isn’t until you laugh or crack a smile that he visibly relaxes, glad to have someone that understands his humor.
Earlier, he’d told you the joke about the existentialists and the light bulb and had been absolutely elated when you doubled over in laughter. The joke wasn’t even that funny, but he’d been making you laugh for so long that your ribs had started to hurt.
“That’ll be $12.78.” You slide your card across the desk, pulling your eyes away from Reid longer than you wanted to. When you look back, there’s a look on his face that takes you a minute to recognize. It’s just on the tip of your tongue when the smack of pen and receipt paper hit the counter.
Quickly, you sign your name on the stores copy of your receipt. You flip your copy of the receipt to the back, using the pen to scribble out your phone number.
“Call me if you ever learn any new magic tricks you want to show off.” The bell dings when you lean back against the door, your books in a bag that dangle from your left hand while your right hand comes up in a wave.
Spencer still stands at the counter, the one in a hurry being the one who still isn’t out the door. The lopsided smile is back, that look crossing his face again as you let the after-storm sun shine on your face.
“Sir, can you take your longing elsewhere? I’d like to close early. I have a thing to get to.” He pats his hand on the countertop, ignoring the buzzing of texts coming through his phone as he makes his way to the car in a bit of a daze.
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bisexualsforprompto · 3 years
Text
The Burden Of The Bond Pt. 3
I hath returned!!!
Seriously though, I’m sorry (again) for the wait, I really hope that it’s worth it
A knife slash to the arm and a whole lot of bruises later, Marinette emerged from the alley victorious. The victim had thanked her profusely although confused as to why Batman hadn’t intervened before she did.
‘Batman can’t be everywhere at once,’ Marinette mused to herself, even without ever being a hero herself, she knew that. It was almost silly how she could be rational and logical in a situation such as this, yet jump at every shadow around her, thinking Damian might emerge from one to end her.
Marinette clutched her bleeding arm. She’d have to get it bandaged. It’d knock a bit out of her already low funds (especially because transferring euros to USD is hard when not a legal citizen of America), but it was either that or be severely weakened and risk death if her soulmate ever did come find her.
She huffed, some soulmate he was. Sometimes she had entertained thoughts that he might’ve changed, but she quickly realized that that kind of thinking from her heart would get her killed. Marinette refused to make herself easy prey, so locking away emotions was one of her main tactics.
She absolutely despised that she still craved for Damian to be a good person. It didn’t make sense, not after what he’d done to her and what he’d forced her to become. What naivety she had.
Yet on the other hand she acknowledged the darker side that Damian was her soulmate. How terrible a person, how screwed up, was she that the person she was “destined” to be with wanted to kill her? Did she deserve it? Would she end up deserving it? Were soulmarks even fate or were they just a cruel form of entertainment for those who created them?
With a sigh Marinette strode down the bustling street, injured arm still clutched. Self-deprecating thoughts weren’t going to help her survive. Neither was questioning the universe’s will or whatever soulmates were. She internally smacked herself in order to keep herself going and to stay out of her thoughts. She saw a general looking store ahead, one that looked like the type to have a small pharmacy. Bandages would likely be found there.
A bell chime dinged as she walked through the store. Ignoring the quizzical look she was given from the front cashier she made her way to the back of the store where the flickering “pharmacy” sign was. As she searched, slightly frantically, for some cheap bandages she heard a loud whistle from behind her.
“Quite the injury you got there,” remarked a rough voice.
Marinette spun around like a terrified animal, subconsciously getting into a fighting stance.
The stranger held her hands up in mock surrender, “Hey, hey, no judgment here. I’ve had my fair share of cuts.”
Somehow Marinette could tell, she knew it was rude to judge someone’s appearance but in her defense brightly dyed blue hair, piercings and leather clothing where there weren’t any scars didn’t exactly paint a “I-had-an-incredible-life” story.
Not that Marinette was one to judge, trauma knows trauma after all. Glancing down to the out of place, bright red shirt beneath the woman’s leather jacket Marinette caught sight of a name plate.
“Harper.” The blue haired woman—Harper—offered, “You?”
Marinette was hesitant to answer.
Harper chuckled a bit, “You don’t have to give me a real name sweetheart, I think you can tell I’ve got no ties with the cops.”
“It’s...Nette.”
Harper raised a brow but didn’t comment on the name (or the terribly faked American accent), “Well Nette, need some help with that slash there? Looks like it cut pretty deep.”
Marinette paused as if to assess the situation. She knew Harper was probably no threat, but there was also no guarantee of that…
“Here,” Harper said, pulling a first aid kit off the top shelf, “I get an employee’s discount here, so how ‘bout you let me get this at least. If you don’t want a stranger patching you up, I understand that, but the offer still stands.”
“Uhm...no offense, but you don’t quite look like the kind of person to patch someone up…” Marinette whispered to the floor.
Harper laughed loudly (and a bit obnoxiously if Marinette was being honest), “Hey, at least you’re honest. I get that a lot though, don’t worry. Even if nobody says it outright you can tell I don’t really look the type to be manning a pharmaceutical.”
‘That’s why she was in the back,’ Marinette thought.
“I know my way around bruises,” Harper said, face suddenly growing dark before getting a slight light to it, “I know my way around healing them too...in a batty way you could say.”
Harper smirked as if she made some kind of joke, or told a secret that only she knew.
“Alright, c’mon kid, let’s get you all fixed up.” Harper grinned, “Hey! I’m taking my break now!”
“Whatever.” Was shouted from the front of the store.
Harper rolled her eyes and led Marinette to a chair near the pharmacy. She motioned for her to sit, to which Marinette obliged.
“Care to tell me your story, kid?”
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some-cookie-crumbz · 3 years
Text
Philosophy 101
Philosophy 101 Fandom: My Hero Academia Pairing: FuyuPress Summary: FuyuPress Week 2021 Day 2 Prompt Fill: Soulmate - “Soulmates?” he asked with a brow raised. He reached up with his prosthetic hand to rub at his chin thoughtfully. “What a peculiar thing to ask about.” Minor Warning: Implied Hanky-Panky but nothing explicit. Standard Disclaimer: If you read and enjoy this, please give it a like/ reblog so I know if I should write more.
When she was just a child, she loved stories about soul mates. Things like true love’s kiss and handsome princes’ come to save the day on horseback became her idealistic view of the world. She clung to those fairy tales and how they could be applied to the real world, asking Mother often is that was what Father was to her. Back then she hadn’t noticed how the smile never reached the gray depths of Mother’s eyes, but she came to understand it as she got older. A prince wouldn’t belittle, berate and beat the princess he so adored. Her parents’ marriage being something born of financial comfort and narcissistic ego rather than loyalty and love had been a heavy blow.
The accompanying realization that there may never have been any love between her parents had been somehow more terrifying.
In high school, her disillusionment with the idea of love and soul mates had been given even more evidence. Between herself and her friends, so many of their “charming royal suitors” turned out to be nothing but façade and hormones. They would be cruel in so many different ways, in ways she still bore the physical and emotional remnants of, and she’d resolved herself to be content on her own. She had her family and her work and her friends – the ones that had been with her through it all – and she determined that she would commit to that being enough for now. She resigned that she would most likely settle for someone Father selected, someone who would be financially secure and – if she was lucky – gentle enough that rearing a family would be tolerable.
And then there was Sako Atsuhiro, more enigma than man.
Their first meeting had been anything but graceful. It had been on a field trip day to a local museum for a more hands-on experience involving pre-Quirk society. Her little problem child, Toshiro-Chan, had been fiddling about with his Quirk as he was prone to. His Quirk was that he could temporarily make any item - even ones that lacked any metal component - magnetic for a short period of time. Thinking that it would be a fun little prank, he’d magnetized one of the plastic line poles used to keep the children from getting too close to the exhibits…
And ended up dragging poor Sako over through the means of his prosthetic arm.
Fuyumi had been absolutely mortified, offering frantic apologies to Sako and stern words to Toshiro-Chan as she tried to help separate his arm from the pole. Sako had been a darling and taken it all in stride, though. He made a few teasing remarks to help alleviate some of her distress and the young tot’s guilt, reassuring that he was in as many pieces as he’d entered the establishment in. He had ended up trailing along with her class after that, the students all fascinated more in his prosthetic arm than the sights they were there for. Once the students were all loaded back up onto the bus and with one final plea from Fuyumi to find some way to make it all up to him, he made a suggestion.
“If you insist, young miss,” he mused, producing a small slip of paper between his fingers from thin air, “treating me to a beverage some time would be a welcome gesture of apology.”
And that first little coffee date had bloomed into something unexpected but new. Fuyumi was used to the polite and suave gentleman act that he seemed to play at, but she found the big difference to be that it wasn’t an act with him. THe more she grew to know him, the more she realized he was very much a “What You See is What You Get” kind of man. He wasn’t afraid to purr softly in her ear of the things he’d relish in doing to her once they were alone and then hold true to those words when they were. He was as polite and respectful and responsible behind closed doors as he was on the street and this concept was absolutely earth-shattering for her. For Todoroki Fuyumi, who presented herself as the sensible and mature daughter most would expect of a Pro Hero, the idea of someone who was so unabashedly themselves in every aspect of their life, it was new and enticing and hypnotic in a way.
Which was probably why her mind wandered back to childhood fantasies, blurting the question out before she could think better of it as they lounged together in his bed one night.
“Soulmates?” he asked with a brow raised. He reached up with his prosthetic hand to rub at his chin thoughtfully. “What a peculiar thing to ask about.”
She shuffled to nuzzle into his pillow a bit more, hiding the lower half of her face and muffling her words a bit. “Is it?” she asked uneasily. A flash of panic coursed through her. Had she crossed some strange line between them? Would such an immature question turn him away from her? “You don’t have to answer it if you don’t want to. It is a kinda weird question. I’m sorry for bringing it up.”
He blinked, brown eyes twinkling as he fixed his gaze back on her, before a small smile tipped up on his lips. “Nonsense, my dear. If you were thinking about it to a point you wanted to mention it, it is clearly important for you to discuss it,” he said, reaching out with his flesh hand to gently stroke along her cheek. She shifted to tilt up into the touch more, relaxing a bit at the soothing familiarity of his touch. “If you are asking as to whether I believe that soulmates are real or not… I don’t believe in something as basic as one singular soulmate for your whole life long.”
She perked up and made a small confused noise. “What do you mean?”
“Well, I feel like every partner - good or bad - has qualities indicative of what a soulmate is meant to be. For elaboration, what is a soulmate as you see it?”
She hummed thoughtfully as she pushed herself to sit up with the help of her elbows more. She steepled her and tapped them against her lips as she tried to sort her thoughts properly. Atsuhiro had moved to gently trail his hand over her shoulder to draw little shapes along the exposed skin of her back instead. “Well, they’re someone who is there for you when you need them and not always in ways you expect. They accept you as you are, and inspire you to be a better person. To work to be the best side of yourself. The side of you that they see you as,” She watched as he nodded along with her words, smile widening a little bit. She shifted to move a smidge closer to him. “And what about you?”
“I would agree with what you’ve said,” he hummed, holding up one finger on his other hand, “and would also state that there are parts or what you said that I learned from past lovers.”
“So you’ve met your soulmate before then?” she asked, cocking her head and knitting her brow.
He chuckled and shifted to lay on his side beside her. “Not quite. Perhaps they are not your soulmate for all of time, but they are in that moment. And I think that there is something to be treasured in that,” he explained, lifting his arm to invite her closer.
She frowned as she shifted to laying on her side as well, hands sliding to rest on his shoulders. “But… Doesn’t that kind of lessen the significance of having a soulmate? If every person you’re with is a soulmate?” It made little sense to her and felt a bit like a cop-out, if she were honest. After all, the idea of her past partners being considered soulmates make her stomach churn uncomfortably. Sure, there had been points where she’d thought it could be possible, but… Well, hindsight was 20-20, right?
“Perhaps, yes, but I do not feel so,” he mused. He settled his arm around her waist and pulled her closer to himself, looking down at her with a fond expression. “If not for those past experiences, I would not be the person that I am proud to be today, the man who is happy to spend his time with you and treat you as you deserve. And I needed all of those past lovers and the times with them - both the good and the bad - to be able to come to certain realizations about myself. To teach me what was important to me in the kind of partner I was as well as the kind of partner I wanted.”
Fuyumi blinked and nodded slowly, letting his words turn over in her mind. It… Did make a certain kind of sense, actually. She was only able to determine the things she wanted in a serious, committed relationship because of what she’d been through with her past partners. If she hadn’t dated them, would she still be as naive as she was at age seven? Believing that her ideal partner would be someone who was perfect and handsome and, realistically, didn’t exist? And that wasn’t even taking into account the little things she’d learned to perceive from a handful of dates. Would she still be able to spot a wolf in sheep’s clothing? Or would she just be a sheep to the slaughter, of sorts?
“Does that help at all, my dear?” he asked, pressing a small kiss to her forehead and snapping her from her internal ramblings.
She flashed a small smile before curling into his chest. “Yes, I think it does, Atsuhiro. Thank you,” she hummed, closing her eyes as he began to gently stroke her hair, fingertips grazing along the shell of her ear.
Perhaps his definition was a bit more romantic than she’d thought.
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justemmagracethings · 3 years
Text
headcanon // How did Mello join the mafia?
This is long, ok ya it's really long. But, well thought out and makes a lot of sense for that confusing 4.5 years. Also, it is not absolutely depressing like some other theories about how he got into the mafia!
!!!!!READ BELOW!!!!
CONTEXT: this post mentions Machiavelli, basically he believed that you should do anything it takes to get what you want if you believe your cause is just. He wrote about this in his book The Prince written in 1532.
tw // murder, praying, Catholicism
Well after learning of L’s death, as we know Mello runs away from Wammy's house orphanage in Winchester England to live his own life, and 4 1/2 years later he turns up as a mafia Godfather living in LA. Mello tells you that it’s a complicated story but how he wound up where he is now:
helping in the LA BB murder case he did a lot of fieldwork as instructed by L
he even meets Rod Ross while gathering info from gangs about the bb murders (L and Naomi speculated the murders could be related to gang activity due to them all occurring in active gang territory)
Mello uses infiltration to gain their trust and Mello says that he is an abused child who is as seeking refuge from his household and offers to do some minor jobs for the mafia (all non violent of course most of them being basically being a little bitch for the mafia and just washing their motorcycles and shoes and stuff) and they let him hang around unknowing that Mello was essentially an undercover cop but they suspected nothing because they would never imagine the LAPD putting a little kid in that situation (but let’s be real knowing L if that’s what it took to get info he would do it)
Mello manages to impress Rod with his intelligence, fiery temper, and go-getter attitude especially his intense belief in the phrase “ends always justify means” and rod actually doesn’t mind having him around but Rod doesn’t think much of it once Mello leaves to go back to Wammy's house after the murder case’s conclusion, Rod assumes that Mello had run away from the LA area or maybe died
Mello never forgot the sense of tribe the mafia had a feeling of belong he remembered thinking how unstoppable they could be only if they were to be my all complete goons all they needed was someone with some brains and with their money and resources and manpower they would be invincible
however Mello continues his life at Wammy's house and continues his sights on beating near and surpassing L
however, his plans changed when L died
right after Mello stormed out of rogers office Mello takes as many things as he can fit in his bag and sets off on his own
he realizes that he will live by his favorite philosophy The Prince from now on indefinitely, the ends justify the means, it’s better to be feared than loved, and revenge is the strongest motivator to success
he believes his off the charts intelligence will make him useful to the mafia and he can rise to the top there and finally be the best, he makes it his ride or die goal: get to LA. and he has a plan
Mello goes to an English convent to live as a orphan receiving seminary training where he allows people to call him Mihael
he learns all about faith something that he would come to hold dear to him the rest of his life hence the various catholic motifs he wears and decorates his hideouts with and the nuns instill in him humility in the form of wearing black plain clothes with no embellishments other than a few ecclesiastical motifs similar to that he used to wear at Wammy's house which brought back painful memories but regardless it would form a habit he would continue in for the rest of his life in some way
he continued wearing all black every day even after he left but he learned to appreciate fashion in this time and rebelled against this rule after he left the convent commonly wearing flamboyant clothes like feather jackets, leather, fingerless gloves, and chunky belts they also didn’t allow him flavorful food or sweets which he would rebel against constantly always having a candy bar in hand in an act of permanent rebellion
since he is an older child (14-15) the convent has his him do some chore jobs while also doing seminary school Mello is embarrassed to say that he took advantage of that to steal everything he possibly could he stole silver forks, knives, and spoons from the kitchen, he stole from the offer boxes between mass, he even managed to steal a golden candelabra he stashed the cash and pawned off all the items for money he remembered what machiavelli said “the ends always justify the means” if he could make enough money to make it to LA he could catch Kira and avenge L’s death that was what God wanted him to do and if he had to steal from the convent a bit to do that God would forgive him
he made enough money to support himself a little while on his own and fly to LA by the time he was 15 but he thought that maybe he could atone for some sins by at the very least graduating from seminary. he had done so much damage in the name of “ends justifying means” maybe if he could prove himself to be a true vessel of christ he wouldn’t be damned
he booked his flight and he was leaving that night it was also the day he graduated from seminary school as the star pupil he was awarded golden cufflinks, a platinum ecclesiastical ring, and a handcrafted sterling silver beaded rosary embellished with a few red beads leading down to an engraved cross, it was the most beautiful thing anyone had ever given him
upon receiving his graduation awards he was overwhelmed with regret all he ever wanted was to be loved and accepted and the best and he found it the convent thought he was the best pupil they ever had hence the expensive gifts and wanted nothing more than for him to be their leader their priest and he was going to fly across the world into the unknown hoping a few criminals were still alive and not incarcerated and maybe remembered him well enough to let him into their gang
after becoming beacon of christ brother Mihael did he really want to go back to being lonely orphan Mello? maybe Mello had died after all that time and he should just go on as brother Miahel and become a priest like everyone at the convent expected and invested so much in him to do
Mello fell onto his knees praying to his Virgin Mary tapestry and he felt something telling him “go”
promptly with tears in his eyes he got to his feet and rolled up his tapestry and grabbed the same bag he took from Wammy's house not taking a single article of clothing other than what he was wearing with him
he quietly started the fireplace and burned every belonging he had his sheets, clothes, papers, books, anything that would be a reminder of him ever being there
Mello looked at the bare bed and walls with everyone in the convent asleep he could escape without anyone ever knowing brother Mihael ever existed, well except his graduation gifts ‘i can’t take one more valuable item from this place’ he thought
reluctantly he grabbed his rosary putting it around his neck saying to himself softly “I’ll never forget this place and who I could have become” he thought of L and how L always declared he represented good in the world ‘i will represent righteousness just like L’ he thought
leaving home for the second time Mello watched the image of the convent dissipate into the darkness as he walked away never to see it again
with nothing but the clothes on his back, a tapestry, and the rosary Mello went on to the next phase of his plan
he boarded his flight and made his way across the sea on his way to America, LA, his destiny
Mello touched down in LA and immediately the hot California heat washed over him, it was nothing like the cool and cloudy weather of England
his first step was to go back to the streets of echo park where he remembered rod’s goons frequenting
he was starting to lose hope after 2 nights of walking the streets until dawn scared to fall asleep exposed clutching his rosary be prayed he would find them
after 3 days of sleeplessness and seeking fate smiled upon him, he heard a familiar rev of motorcycle engines and a low growling voice ‘Rod’ he thought
he approached the men on the motorcycles hoping they would remember him only to be met with cackling and they began to move away impulsive and panicked Mello yelled “THE ENDS! THE ENDS ALWAYS JUSTIFY MEANS!!”
Rod stopped in his tracks and turned around looking Mello in his Cerulean blue eyes “Mel-Mello? What the hell you’re alive?”
Mello said finally “I’m here again because i have no where else to go. you were able to make use of me all those years ago. i promise i can be useful again.”
next thing Mello knew he was doing drug runs and lookout for cops during hits on other mobs
then came the thing that changed everything for Mello the mob all sat around the couches of their base screaming about how to get a mob boss that opposed them
“KIRA CAN'T EVEN GET HIM HOW THE HELL ARE WE SUPPOSED TO?!?” the men hollered now was Mello’s chance the moment he had been waiting for
Mello laid out his plan with everyone listening in awe “let’s do it“ rod said at last to Mello’s lack of surprise his plan worked out exactly as he wanted ‘too easy’ he thought
finally, the time came for the gang to promote him from errand boy to member his job was to show his commitment to the gang and execute the man his plan apprehended he saw the man bound to a chair Mello heard the haunting choir of the convent in his ears and the sound of the nuns reading the 10 commandments their voice echoed on “thou shall not commit murder”
suddenly Mello swung his blade silencing the voices in his head and making a gushing noise on impact
shaking and panting Mello turned away from all other mafia members tears filled his eyes at what he had done
suddenly his face hardened to a grimace and his blue eyes turned snakelike as he bent over to grab the decapitated head from the ground by the hair turning around to hold it up facing the other men to which they whooped and hollered in his head Mello thought ‘forgive me father. the ends shall justify the means’
after that initiation when Mello was just older than 16 Mello convinced himself that he was dead inside and was imperious to human empathy his once glowing blue eyes became icy holes and his mouth furrowed to a permanent scowl frequently reaching into his pocket to pull out a candy bar biting off a piece with a chuckle and a loud snap
while he didn’t have to get his hands dirty again after that his plans continued to claim lives establishing him as a Godfather of the mafia
he had his goons, he had resources, he was the best, he was accepted, and he seemed to belong, he had everything he ever wanted right?
he reached into his bag that had brought him from his parents apartment, to Wammy's house, to the convent, to the mafia and pulled out his Virgin Mary poster plastering it against the wall, phase 3 of his plan had begun
clutching his rosary he said “Now all i have to do is catch Kira. I'll avenge L and beat Near by any means necessary, and the ends always justify the means.”
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watchtower-feed · 4 years
Text
Detective
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Anon: after your last imagine I can't shake college Damian off my mind, can I request one about him and his s/o in college? I don't really have an specific idea but something like walking them to class, studying together, getting each other coffee and just overall taking care of each other. Notes: I didn’t get to cover everything in the request because there are too many scenes and I didn’t wanna turn this into a bullet point fic. Hope you like it though! Words: 2,774
     “No.”
     The girl that approached the table looked forlorn and her friends slowly helped her walk away.
     “Ugh,” Will groans. He’s one of Damian Wayne’s friends and their varsity is currently doing charity work for Gotham Academy. Will took a brilliant idea from the internet where they set up a table offering people to walk them around campus if they feel bullied or generally unsafe.
     “You can’t keep saying no to people, Wayne. That’s not how the charity works.”
     Damian clicked his tongue. “I know exactly how this works, and those girls did not need assistance.”
     “Yeah. In the bedroom, they did,” Mike laughs and tries to fistbump Will who just stares at him until he puts his hands down.
     Damian’s attention is already taken by you. He kicks back his seat to leave.
     “Where are you going now?” Will whines.
     “Helping someone who actually needs it.”
     You’re walking to your next class while looking over your shoulder every now and then. To Damian, they’re simple signals of someone who feels like they’re being followed. So he stands right in front of your path in the middle of the quad where there is a multitude of people around. You almost bump into him but he quickly takes a step back to give you your space. 
     You know him. Everybody on campus knows him. He’s the greatest player the football team has ever had. Too bad he left halfway through his first semester and joined the swim team instead.
     Damian is staring down at you from being almost a foot taller. Then something catches his eye and he looks at someone behind you who quickly hides behind a statue.
     You see a small snarl on the corners of his lips before he starts taking steps around you. You stop him immediately.
     “You can’t--”
     “Why not?” Damian quickly asks.
     “If you-- if you get in a fight again, they’ll kick you off the team.” 
     Damian raises his eyebrows in thought, “That doesn’t sound like much of a loss to me.”
     “Please don’t.” You grip his arm tighter.
     He stares at you, “Why haven’t you reported him?”
     “He-- he hasn’t done anything. He’s smart. He keeps his distance and no one has actually noticed him following me around.”
     “I did.”
     And you want to thank him for that. This whole semester has been a nightmare for you. It started with your survival instincts kicking in, always warning you that you’re in danger. Your gut has never failed you so you listened. But this stalker is so good that he’s hidden himself well from all of your friends. Friends you’ve lost because they deemed you too paranoid and anxious.
     “Come on.” Damian’s voice saves you from your thoughts. “I’ll walk you to your class. Spanish, right?”
     You’re stunned, “How-- how do you know that?”
     He rolls his eyes and then points at your books. “It’s the one on top of your pile. Lucky guess.”
     You suddenly feel assured and laugh a little. “You’re quite the detective.”
     His eyes widen at the comment and he slowly turns back to you. “You have no idea.”
     Damian walks you right up to the door of your classroom. As soon as you thank him, he leaves and heads for his own class. When it’s time for lunch, you’re surprised to find him standing against the wall outside of the room.
     “You’re here.”
     “Do you have another class?” he asks you while his eyes roam the hallways.
     “No, I’m about to have lunch.”
     “Okay. Let’s go.” Without giving you time to respond, he starts walking to the cafeteria and you try to keep up with his strides. 
     So far nobody has paid attention to the two of you. But when Damian carries both of your trays to your table, the staring and the whispers start. There are even some flashes from cameras that almost blind you.
     “Sorry,” he mutters under his breath while concentrating on his food.
     You shake your head as you watch the lines on his brows and the irritation on his face. “It must be hard being a Wayne,” you say.
     He grins at the thought of what it’s like to be a real Wayne beyond what the gossip columns say. “I wouldn’t trade it for anything. It’s all this stupid attention that I hate.”
     “That’s probably why you don’t date, huh?” Damian looks up and stares at you with a raised eyebrow. You quickly wave your hands, “It’s just that-- my friend-- well my old friend-- she asked you out once and you said you’re not interested. We teased her that maybe you’re just not interested in her but--”
     A sudden flash hits the side of your cheeks and Damian is quickly leaving his seat and marching over to another table, the table where your stalker is sitting with a camera pointed at you. You wince at the sight of it. 
     Damian grabs the man’s camera still strapped around his neck. “What? Did you think you could hide your flash among these paparazzi wannabes?” Before he could say anything, Damian takes off the camera and starts flipping through the pictures. 
     “Hey, man! That’s mine!”
     Damian scoffs. “Really? That’s good then. You can get it back from the cops.” Damian turns the camera around and shows the stalker a picture of you in the girl’s shower. His eyes widen and quickly tries to run but Damian grabs him by the collar and slams the side of his head against the table.
     You watch all of this go down from your table. People’s murmurs are louder, trying to figure out what’s going on. When word reaches you that Damian is calling the cops, you feel a new kind of relief wash over you. Suddenly, your shoulders felt lighter and it’s easier to stand up straight.
     Damian stays with you the whole time. Whenever the officers and the stalker’s voices got too loud, your voice would falter and Damian would speak for you, authoritatively holding everyone’s attention. 
     Once the stalker was detained and all evidence tagged, you and Damian walk back to campus.
     “You seem… happy.”
     You didn’t even notice you’re smiling until you touch the upturned corners of your lips. “I feel kind of free… like a bird.”
     Damian snorts to himself, “Yeah.” 
     You mull something in your head and speak your thoughts out loud, “You planned that, didn’t you?” Damian stops walking and he’s looking at you when you turn around. “You knew he wasn’t just following me, and that he wouldn’t pass up the opportunity you created.”
     Damian’s brows furrowed, “I apologize for using you as bait--”
     “No!” you interrupt and hold his hands, “I was just thinking that it’s ingenious. Forget being a detective, you’re almost as good as Batman.”
     Damian smirks. You suddenly see a whole new side of him probably no one on campus has ever seen. A playful one. “Just almost?”
     When you reach the dorms, Damian walks you right up to your door. He takes a quick look inside to make sure you’re roommate is already there. Before you let him leave, thinking this will probably be the last time you’ll be together again, you gather up the courage to hold his arm, stand on your toes, and kiss him on the lips. “Thanks. For everything.”
     Damian gives you a look before he nods and leaves. You watch a small shade of red reach the tips of his ears as you cover your own blush.
     The next day, Damian Wayne is back at the table with his varsity friends. You walk by and only mean to wave at him before your next class. But as soon as he saw you, he shrugs off Mike’s arm from his shoulder and gets up to leave.
     “Dude, no. You’re bailing again?” Will whines.
     “You have more than enough people here. Just message me.”
     Will slumps down in his seat and crosses his arms, “Yeah right. It’s not like any of us has your number.”
     “They don’t look too happy about you leaving,” you tease as he approaches you.
     He shrugs nonchalantly, “They’ll live.” He gives you a long look before he raises an eyebrow in curiosity, “You seem happier today.” You quickly blush and immediately think of the kiss from last night. “You’re thinking about the kiss, aren’t you?”
     You stare at Damian with wide eyes. You wonder if he’s either a real detective or you’re just too obvious. You laugh, “You, too. I mean you’re actually teasing me. Where is the always-reserved Damian Wayne of Gotham Academy and what have you done to him?”
     He smirks and points ahead to the direction of your next classroom, World History. You look down at the top book in your pile and roll your eyes. Definitely the detective. Definitely obvious.
     After class, there’s no Damian standing outside waiting for you. You try not to feel the tiny pang in your chest and walk to your Figure Drawing class. As soon as you walk in, you come face to face with a very naked Damian Wayne.
     When Damian returned to the varsity table, Will had given him punishment for bailing twice in a row and volunteered him to be the model for a class. Damian has absolutely no problems with appearing naked in front of anybody. To him, this was just a chore he had to do to live up to his civilian identity.
     But as soon as he sees you walk in through the door and your eyes roam from his head all the way down to his toes, he grits his teeth. “I’ll kill him.”
     “Y/N, please. You’re already late. Take your seat.”
     Your lecturer’s voice jolts you back to your senses and you quickly take a seat on the far side of the room. It’s one of the most grueling classes you’ve been in since you got to the academy. Damian avoided your eyes the whole time.
     “Y/N, wait for me.”
     Damian calls out while he put on his clothes. You’re already standing by the door and a lot of people had stayed to continue to watch him. When they heard him call out to you, they instantly turn and glare.
     As soon as he reaches you, he puts his arm around your shoulder and you walk out together. You can feel the heavy weight of his arm rest on top of you.
     “Do you have another class?” he asks. You shake your head, still unable to speak to him because you keep seeing him naked inside your head. “Good. Let’s have lunch in the city.”
     Damian takes you to a small diner hidden in a corner between the business district and the Narrows. The lunch rush is already over and you find yourselves in a corner booth.
     “Wow,” you say. “I never expected you to eat at a place like this. You’re more down-to-Earth than I thought.”
     “As opposed to what?”
     “Oh, I don’t know. Being a rich kid? Everything handed to you on a silver platter?”
     “Trust me, Y/N. Nothing was ever handed to me. Everything I have-- everything I am, I worked for.”
     You prop your elbow on the table as you look at the once menacing Damian Wayne. The past two days, you’ve spent with him have completely changed your opinion about him and a little of the ancient Wayne family.
     Speaking of.
     “My family’s here,” Damian mutters as he scoots over until he’s sitting next to you, freeing up his side of the booth. A group of four walks into the diner and start heading for your booth. “Damian!”
     “Good morning, Grayson. Cain.” 
     Two of the four, nod their heads at you. While the shortest boy, who is still taller than you, crosses his arms. “Rude. What about us?”
     Damian doesn’t pay him any attention. You watch as they enter the booth in a single file. 
     “Late night?” Damian asks.
     The one he called Grayson gives a long sigh as he sits next to Damian. “You have no idea. Would’ve been faster if Rob-- Ow!” The tallest of the three elbows him and nudges his head toward you. “Oh, hello there.”
     “Are you on a date?” asks the girl he called Cain, smiling.
     “Yes.”
     “We are?” you ask right away. You tried to keep your voice low but from the way their eyes widen, you know they heard you.
     They look at each other and smirk. “Looks like you forgot to inform your date,” teases the tallest one.
     Damian smirks to himself before replying. “Y/N can’t think straight at the moment. Still a little flustered after seeing me naked.”
     Damian pulls you closer to him to avoid the spray of water from one of his siblings. “We really shouldn’t be letting you loose into society without a harness, Drake.” 
     “It was for figure drawing class,” you chuckle to break the tension, and try to appease their wide eyes with your waving hands. “I’m Y/N by the way. I go to GA, too.”
     “I’m Dick,” one of his siblings reaches around Damian to shake your hand. “These are Cass, Jason, and Tim. We’re Damian’s siblings--”
     “Adopted.”
     Jason looms over the table and grabs Damian’s head to harshly rub his knuckles into his hair. “You don’t have to say that every time, demon.”
     “Todd-- Stop it--”
     Dick tries to pry them apart but ultimately fails and accidentally gets punched by one of Damian’s flailing limbs, making Jason laugh. “You may have gotten bigger, but you’re still a runt!”
     “Not-- as much-- as Drake--”
     Tim, who’s sitting at the outer edge of the booth across from you, apologizes for his brothers with a sigh. “I wish I could tell you that we’re not always like this.”
     You smile at the thought and finally realize why Damian is always so reserved on campus. He’s the youngest of such a big and lively family. Dick and Tim are familiar, too. You’ve seen their faces on the Legacy Wall of the academy. You’ve seen a few pictures of Jason and Cass, too but not as much.
     This is what Damian meant when he said he’s worked hard for everything in his life. It must be hard living behind so many giant shadows.
     When Cass finally intervenes and disentangles the boys, you place your hand over Damian’s as he sits back down. He turns to you and you give him a supportive smile.
     He smirks and raises an eyebrow, “You keep getting into a better mood each time I look at you.”
     You blush a little because who would ever expect someone to just say things like that. “Maybe your company just does that to me,” you tease back.
     You hear a quick snicker from Dick and both of you turn to him. He’s visibly whispering to Cass but it’s audible enough for you to hear. “They’readorable.”
     After that, Damian never took you back to the diner again, not wanting to let his siblings see the two of you together. But on campus, you are almost always together.
     “Stop! Stop!” you laugh and try to protect yourself from the whirlwind of water Damian is sending your way as he shakes his head. He had just finished training and met up with you at the stands where you’ve been studying while waiting.
     Damian leans down and kisses you on the lips. Your eyes widen before they slowly close as you let him lead. You hear catcalls from his teammates and you can already guess that Damian’s flipping them off.
     “Okay. Come here.” You break the kiss and pull down the towel he had draped around his shoulders. You use it to properly rub his head and dry off his hair. “You must be tired. That ran longer than usual.”
     Damian tries to look at you as you keep drying his hair, “Competition’s next week so we’re doing last-minute checks on everyone’s forms. Did you wait long?”
     You nod your head like a child. “Been here since morning. It’s so hard to date a varsity,” you groan.
 ��   Damian takes the towel from you and rubs your face with it. “Think that’s hard? Try dating a vigilante.”
     You giggle as you try to fight Damian for the towel, “I wouldn’t mind that. Batman seems to be getting hotter these days.”
     You’re only teasing him and he knows it. But you don’t know that the mantle of Batman has been passed down to him. So he laughs out loud and it’s one of those rarest moments you want to treasure but you also can’t resist the urge to just kiss this happy and carefree version of Damian Wayne. 
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prettywordsyouleft · 3 years
Text
To Be Continued - Part 3
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Summary: As an author, you had created Brian Kang for your current trilogy series to represent the ultimate man that everyone would love, along with Charli Evers - your female protagonist. What you hadn’t expected was for him to find a way out of the story and begin shaping up your world instead
Pairing: Brian Kang x female writer (ft. Park Sungjin)
Genre: writer au / romance / fantasy
Warnings: fictional characters coming to life / a bit of angst here and there / Sungjin as a cop (or does that only affect me?) >_>
Word count: 2288
Preview | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | Epilogue
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“I know it seems ridiculous,” you stated as you led the constable to your home office, pointing at your desk where both the pen and message waited for him to inspect. “However, I didn’t hear a thing and yet this is all here.”
Sungjin quietly investigated the space, looking to the window and then went over to jiggle the catch. He stepped all around the room, searching for clues, his hand rising to his mouth to cover it as he processed his thoughts.
And then he turned to you. “I don’t really know what to say. This makes no sense.”
“I feel like I’m going insane!” you admitted emotionally, dropping to a crouch and holding onto your legs. “How could someone get in and out without my knowledge whilst everything is still locked?!”
When you glanced up at Sungjin, who came to your side, you noticed the look of scepticism within his eyes. There was nothing factual aside from the second fingerprints, which in your mind, was enough to convince you that someone else had been here. For a moment, the trained professional looked at you and assessed something before smiling gently. You realised then Sungjin was questioning your well-being.
Standing up suddenly, you took a step back from his proximity and looked out the window. “I might have proclaimed just now about feeling as if I’m going insane, but I can assure you, Constable Park, that I’m not already insane.”
“I know,” he answered, trying to catch your attention. When he gained it, he nodded genuinely. “I’m sorry, my brief thought was too brash.”
“I can understand why,” you breathed out with a sigh, shaking your head. “It would be easy enough to plant such evidence, right? I’ve watched enough spy movies and read enough novels to know that it’s relatively simple enough to obtain someone’s fingerprint.”
“Yes, but I believe you haven’t done this on purpose either, Y/N.”
There was comfort in the way he spoke your name and you nodded softly, tears spilling down your cheeks. Sungjin stepped into your space again, patting your shoulder gently. “What do I do?”
“We need to catch the person in the act,” Sungjin suggested and you stared at him curiously. “Have you tried messaging the person back?”
“No… I mean, how does that work? It’s not a social app they’re writing on but Microsoft Word. Even with a cloud sharing system, it would show me that another user is signed in.”
Sungjin shrugged. “Still. Worth a shot, don’t you think?”
“Do I try it now?” you asked and Sungjin shook his head.
“Nothing will happen with me here,” he guessed and you sighed, defeated. You kind of liked that nothing would happen with Sungjin here. But he had a job to do and you did want to solve this issue too.
If it was simply a fan, you would thank them for nursing you back to health that night and ask them to stop this. That seemed simple enough to request. Surely, if they cared that much about you, they would comply.
You didn’t want to consider that their fan status was anything more than just that. Once again, movies and books you had perused with obsessive stalkers cropped up and you shuddered.
Sungjin noticed and rubbed at your shoulders to relax you. “You’re going to be okay. You have my number and I’ll make sure to check in on your regularly too. Let me know if anything happens with the messages, okay?”
“I will.” Leading the constable back out to the front door, he turned and rubbed at his wrist.
���Did you need a lift to get your groceries?”
“Is that allowed in a police vehicle?” you wondered and Sungjin grinned.
“I could write it off as protection services.”
“I’m touched, really,” you responded, trying to rein in the smile you knew was splitting your lips all too obviously.
Sungjin nodded and chuckled back. “Knowing you would take the offer if my car wasn’t government-funded is all I need, Y/N.”
“You best get back to patrolling the streets for proper crime,” you suggested and he nodded. You then laughed. “And I have a date with the fruit and vegetable section to help improve my immunity after dealing with this cold.”
“Take it easy. First dates can be hard to deal with.”
You grinned. “I will. And if I’m in trouble from it, I’ll know who to ring.”
You could tell Sungjin wasn’t usually one for this type of banter, and despite his ears turning red, he seemed to be enjoying himself. Which was no doubt why he was reluctant to step off your front porch right now.
However, he finally did so with another wave and you stepped back inside, locking the door before going to write out your list. It felt weird to use the pen that reappeared so you put it away before reaching for another and jotted down the groceries you needed.
“Have you tried messaging the person back?”
Sungjin’s suggestion lingered in your mind as you prepared to stand and fetch your bag. Relenting, you looked at the screen and inhaled a deep breath before you began to type.
Thank you for returning the pen. And for helping me with my illness.
It felt odd to type anything more and you shook your head to loosen off the feeling, getting to your feet and taking the list out with you.
The words you had written then disappeared without your knowledge, reaching the person they were intended for.
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You had almost forgotten all about the incident that led to the constable ending up in your house again today, but the interaction by your front door had replayed so much in your mind that you were too giddy to focus on anything else. As you put away your groceries, you contemplated what Sungjin was like to go grocery shopping with.
It was juvenile. You felt like you were back in high school crushing on a student you liked. You entertained the idea, all the same, slipping further into more domestic actions, swooning over your hypothetical relationship with the man.
You were destined to be a writer. You were far too much of a dreamer for any other profession.
By the time you had eaten a late lunch, you had already jotted down on your phone’s notes app more information to add to your police officer document once back at your desk. You did some house chores before stepping back in there, and before you could even sit down, there was a knock at your door.
It wasn’t Sungjin, however, but your mother, armed with an arsenal to help your illness improve.
You grinned even though you whined out loud. “Mum, I’m basically over it now.”
“You had me worried sick about you. Especially when you mentioned someone broke in!”
Taking what she held and helping the woman inside, you shook your head. “Well, there’s no evidence that’s solid enough to say someone broke in.”
“Should I stay with you tonight?”
“Why tonight when I was more frightened last night?” you asked with a teasing tone and the older woman swatted at you in distaste.
“I’m your mother! I’m allowed to be worried.”
“I’ll be fine! I’ll have the doors all locked, and my favourite police officer’s number saved into my phone. Besides, I’ll no doubt spend my night writing and-”
“Forget I’m even here. Yes, I know how you get when you step out of reality, Y/N.”
You grinned again at her understanding and then were gathered up in a hug. “At least let me cook you dinner. I’ll leave before it gets too late for your creative juices to start rolling out.”
“You’re the best, you know that?”
“Of course I do. I have to be the best to be your Mum!”
After watching two feel-good movies from your childhood and your mother had fed you your favourite dish for dinner before wrapping the night up with fussing over you sufficiently, she headed back home and left you to your own devices.
So it surprised you to finally sit back down after hours away from your laptop to find the screen still active.
Peering closely at it, you blinked slowly at your message or lack of it. Where had it gone? You knew you written the two sentences and pressed enter.
Just as you were about to close the document, your eyes rounded with shock as words began to appear on the screen before you.
“I’m going insane after all,” you said jarringly, reading the sentence as it was typed.
I hope you will stop fearing me and calling that police officer. I’m really not that scary. You know me.
Instead of reaching for your phone, you felt compelled to reply.
Do I?
Again words started to appear before you. Of course. You know me better than I probably do.
How?
You created me.
“Maybe I’ve had too much coffee,” you tried to rationalise but it didn’t make any sense. Looking around yourself to see if someone was remotely plugged in somehow to your laptop, you even searched the connection settings before coming up blank.
So you challenged the writer of the messages.
If I know you and created you – which sounds absolutely absurd by the way – why won’t you show yourself?
You laughed when there was no immediate response and hovered the mouse pointer over the exit button to Microsoft Word, intending to then power off the device. The screen flickered then and you looked back at to see new words forming.
Don’t turn off the laptop.
“What would that have anything to do with this?” you murmured, feeling exasperated from chatting with some strange person within a word document in the first place.
More words appeared. Because the world you created was made on this.
“Okay, it’s getting too late for me now. I’m going to save this document and-”
The screen went blank and you sat back in your chair then, watching it to see what would happen next. Nothing did and you hit the power button on and off, laughing at the predicament. “My battery must have died. Great.”
Searching on the desk for the power cord, you plugged it in and the machine brightened up instantly, blinding you a little with the sudden change.
And then it opened Captivated again.
You watched as the story scrolled down at an unbelievably fast rate, reaching the bottom of the manuscript where you had changed the words back to The End for the third time. They disappeared and were replaced with To Be Continued once more, infuriating you.
“Leave my work alone! This is an intrusion on my intellectual property! You have no right interfering with--”
You weren’t sure if you were hallucinating or not. You weren’t even sure how it happened. One moment, whilst you were ranting to whoever may be listening in about your rights, you were all alone.
The next, a man was leaning against your desktop beside you.
“What the… how did you get in here?!” you cried, not looking up at him properly, reaching into your pocket to retrieve your phone.
“I really don’t think you need to call for him. But if it makes you feel safer, by all means, ring your hero.”
His voice, although you had never heard it before, felt familiar, as if you had imagined that’s how someone would sound. You glanced at his hand resting on the table beside you, wondering why it looked as if you had written about this hand so often it almost felt intimate. Following your gaze up his arm, you ran your focus along his shoulder and up to his face, hearing your phone clatter to the floor beside you.
As you looked intensely into his warm brown eyes that watched you back, and then took in the sharp slant of his nose that was definitely a characteristic point, before finally moving to his lips, you knew exactly who you were staring back at.
Brian Kang.
He grinned, scrunching up his nose a little in the process and it made you gasp. This seemed to please the man. “Well, I guess it works on more than just Charli Evers, huh?”
“You’re… wait… how can you… I mean, this is exactly how I pictured you but… it’s impossible.”
Brian nodded, glancing back at your laptop and tapped on the screen. “I guess it would seem like that to you since my world is created from your imagination.”
“Sungjin’s right, I’ve gone mad.”
“Darling, you’ve been mad for some time but I wouldn’t go thinking this is a hallucination.”
“You’re not real.”
“Well, I guess I’m not meant to be real. I’m not really sure how I figured this all out either. I’m still learning about the outside world so forgive me for scaring you with all this.”
“The outside world?” you repeated incredulously, grasping your head as you felt faint. “Why am I talking to my imagination?! This is an all-time low for me; even I have to admit it.”
“Y/N,” Brian stated, capturing your attention once again. His expression was resolute. You knew without him saying anything else that he believed in what he was about to say wholly. “Whilst you are my maker, I do exist. I’m real.”
“I bet I can’t even touch--” A whimper left you then as he reached out to take a hold of your wrist with the same hand you had inspected. And then he slipped it down so he was holding yours, marvelling at the connection.
And like any normal, logical person who just met their creation in the flesh, you completely blacked out from the experience.
_________________
Part 4
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theladysexpistol · 4 years
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Hi hello :D would it be okay if I have the bucci gang meeting their s/o’s family? S/o’s family are really sweet and wonderful people like their mom immediately accepting their new child, their dad starts doing stupid dad jokes offering to teach them things, older siblings teasing them and telling them if they need anything to call them. That kinda thing, I think it’d be nice for them after all they’ve been through to meet some genuinely kind people. Any hc’s you’d have for that would be awesome
Awww haha yes they absolutely deserve to sit down in a home and have a nice meal with a loving s/o’s family, like I’m thinking especially a certain goth ex cop 👀
Also including Trish because I’m feeling a big wlw mood tonight
~~~
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Giorno
- Turns on the charm he inherited from dear old dad immediately. It’s not even intentional, Giorno’s just got a natural talent for charisma. We’re all lucky he doesn’t use it the same way Dio did.
- He then feels a bit out of place when he realizes your parents are so nice he doesn’t need to charm them. Giorno is not used to adults treating him kindly in his life. The nicest adult to him was a fucking gangster who barely said two sentences to him ever. Dad jokes through him for a total loop.
- Can take any amount of teasing from your siblings, and deal it back tenfold. Giorno is ruthless, I mean have you seen what he has had to deal with as part of Bruno’s crew?
- Will limit himself to having an arm around you or a gentle, light kiss in front of your family. He’s mischievous in other ways, like getting all of the embarrassing baby stories of you out of them.
Bruno
- Bruno is Bruno; he’s not quite nervous about meeting your family. He’s mature and naturally likeable. If anything he’s nervous about them recognizing him as a member of Passione. He doesn’t want to lie to his likely in-laws but he would prefer to keep them naive to his occupation.
- Gets along easily with your parents. He enjoys being treated like a son again, something he hasn’t felt since losing his father. His dad was the stoic type, so he’s not used to dad jokes. Doting mothers, however, remind him of his mother before she left.
- Like Giorno, the teasing from siblings doesn’t bother him. He’s not quite as good at comebacks as Giorno, but he’ll smile and laugh at good burns. He’ll also get one or two good comebacks that leave your siblings speechless.
- Also like Giorno he’s a respectable man who isn’t going to try anything more than an arm around you or a light kiss. You’re someone’s child after all, and someone who’s respect he wants to earn. Probably will do a lot of kissing your knuckles though if he gets antsy or if you start teasing him.
Abbacchio
- Abbacchio is surprisingly very nervous about meeting your family. He hasn’t seen his own in years, and hasn’t had to answer to many adults since he’s always just worked for Bruno. He’ll probably be very worried about what they’ll think of him, a failed ex-cop. He’ll need a lot of reassurance from you.
- His fears are for nothing after all, as your parents are incredibly kind and sweet to him. As someone who doesn’t really smile all that much, it’s a bit jarring but sweet to see him laugh when your dad makes a terrible joke. Abbacchio has this really deep laugh that’s such a wonderful rarity to hear.
- He takes teasing from siblings pretty well, although if they keep it up he might get annoyed and ask you to get them to stop it before he snaps at them. He is the KING of burns though, so honestly they might get discouraged before it gets to that point.
- Abbacchio might sneak in a little tongue when you get a moment alone, but overall he is also a very respectable man in front of your family. Your relationship is so much deeper than physical, and he wants them to understand how much he loves you because of what you’ve done for him.
Mista
- He’s cool as a cucumber, unless your family is a family of four. Then he’s nearly losing his mind and will be pretty hard to calm down. Hopefully, you’ve appropriately warned him ahead of time of any possible fours.
- He and your dad get along a little TOO well. Similar sense of humor. He loves dad jokes. He’s going to be a terror once he’s a dad.
- Also has so much fun going back and forth with your siblings. Might take things a little too far and make a dirty joke, but he keeps your family laughing.
- Mista is a BAAAAD boy. He will push the boundaries of what he should and shouldn’t do in front of your family. Absolutely convinces you to have sex in your childhood bedroom if you two spend the night at your parents’ house.
Narancia
- If you thought first date Narancia was nervous than boyyyy you should see Narancia meeting your family. He is anxiety personified.
-However he grows very comfortable very quickly once he sees how nice they are. He’ll try very hard not to be as loud or vulgar as he normally is because he doesn’t want to embarrass you, but sometimes he just gets so worked up he can’t handle it. Loves your dad’s jokes, like Mista he laughs at all of them.
- Thinks the teasing from your siblings is funny but if they say something that pisses him off like insult you or something you’re gonna have to stop him from instinctively pulling a knife and fighting them. Probably the most obvious for your family to figure out he’s a mafia boy.
- He can go either way with the PDA honestly. Either super stiff and barely touches you, or doesn’t give a shit and literally tries to make out with you while your dad is still sitting on the couch next to you. Both are still kinda cute though. Definitely will make out with you when alone, but probably won’t go farther than that.
Fugo
- Very nervous. He still has all the manners from being the son of a wealthy family ingrained in him, but Fugo is always nervous around new people who don’t expect his temper of it coming out.
- He is stiff around your parents at first, but they put him at ease. They’re nothing like his after all, they’re so interested in listening to him talk about himself it’s somewhat jarring for him. A lot of the dad jokes go straight over his head. They’re incredibly impressed with his intellect.
- The teasing from your siblings does become an issue though. Fugo will start getting annoyed and might blow up at them if you don’t get them to stop. If he does get angry he’ll apologize profusely later.
- Offers to stay in a different room than you if you spend the night. He doesn’t want them to even think he might be doing something with their child while under their roof. Fugo may give you a quick kiss but he’s never really been into PDA anyway, so he’s even more avoiding of it when with your family.
Trish
- Very chill about meeting your parents. She’s had mostly adults around in her life anyway. In a way she’s very excited because it’s a big step in a relationship.
- Your mother puts her at ease. Her kindness reminds Trish of her own mother quite a bit. She’s a bit more awkward around your dad but his friendliness eventually wins her over and she likes being able to have a father figure in her life (although I would argue that Bruno definitely has that spot first).
- She doesn’t know how to deal with your siblings’ teasing but enjoys it anyway, since she’s never had a sibling. It doesn’t bother her but she will get flustered.
- Like most of the others she’s respectful in front of your family. But like Mista she might still want to get things steamy when you’re alone in your room.
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