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castlecult · 2 years

Note

saw you wanted frank castle requests!! how about him after he did something dickish (like get overly protective and preachy abt readers safety) and now readers not exactly giving him the silent treatment but isn't as affectionate. thank you!!

an : hello anon !! thank you for sending in a request and sorry it took me a few days to reply <3 i’m not very proud of the initial part, i think it’s a weak reason and it’s poorly written but anyway *looks away* … i chose to write for gender neutral reader bc you didn’t specified a gender, i hope it’s okay and that you’ll enjoy it !!

warnings : use of pet names ( baby & darling ), sad frankie, sad but fluff in the end !!! not proofread

gif here

“why would you treat me like that?!” you stormed into your apartment, followed by frank. “why would– are you being serious now?” frank raised his voice once the door was closed.

“yeah, i am! you acted like a piece of shit, all of that in front of matt. just because i’m slower than you, that doesn’t mean that i don’t know what to do or how to defend myself, okay?” you said while pulling off you jacket, trying to keep your tone low given that it was almost five in the morning.

frank didn’t agree. “bullshit! you almost got hit by a sniper, you completely lost your target and were about to die if it wasn’t for red!” he kept screaming at you. you knew it was just his fear and worry taking control but you couldn’t really excuse him now, you two have been working together for so long it disappointed you that his trust in your abilities was that low.

“oh thank god daredevil exists!” you turned to look at him. “i’m tired of arguing frank, just say that you don’t trust me and go,” you said before walking towards your bedroom.

“hey! do not walk away now, huh?” he followed you and you rolled your eyes, sighing. “i wanna sleep, okay? i don’t care about whatever excuse you have for your behaviour. i hope the couch is comfortable enough for you,” you pushed a pillow and a blanket to his chest, then waited for him to exit the room.

frank stared at you for a moment, a bit taken aback by your behaviour. he mumbled something under his breath and then walked into the living room, leaving you alone.

—

“hi baby,” franks voice filled the kitchen. you were eating, sitting by yourself. “hi,” you simply said, keeping your gaze focused on the newspaper.

frank sat by your side and kissed your cheek. you said nothing and kept reading the news, ignoring his presence. “i’m sorry about the yelling, it was really late,” he said after a while.

“yeah,” you got up and started washing the dishes, sighing. frank just watched you, a bit confused. he cleared his throat and got up, scratching his neck. “so um… i got a thing, to do…” he started, hoping you would turn around. “with curtis.”

“have fun, i guess,” you simply shrugged, without looking at him. “it won’t take long,” he added soon, getting closer, “okay, frank.”

he didn’t say anything, just kissed your cheek once again and got ready to leave the apartment. once you heard the door closing you released a long breath you were holding.

“asshole,” you muttered. you hoped he would enter and apologise for his behaviour, but instead all you got was an apology for the last night’s yelling, which you didn’t really care about because it was a consequence of what happened.

you spent the day doing stuff around the apartment, you also went out shopping.

you were almost falling asleep in front of the tv when the door opened and closed, you heard his heavy steps and quickly sat up, almost forgetting the way you decided to treat him.

“darling, i’m back!” his voice filled the apartment. you yawned, tiredly. you turned off the tv and freed the couch for him. “hey,” he finally showed up and noticed you were approaching your bedroom. “welcome back, frank,” you simply said before closing the door behind yourself.

frank silently stared at the closed door, confused once again by your behaviour. he finally understood that you were angry about something and he was the main reason you were acting like that.

what he would never think about, not even for a second, was that the reason you were upset was the way he treated you the other night, in front of matt.

you laid down, groaning. you weren’t expecting him to come into your room, so when he opened the door and entered you slightly jumped up.

“what now?” you asked, annoyed. “okay, enough,” he said and came sitting on the bed. you faked confusion, watching him. “don’t act a fool, i know what you’re doing,” he added.

“oh, i see,” you nodded and laid down again, turning your back to him. “stop treating me like that, y/n,” he sighed and gently grabbed your hand. you freed yourself and kept silence, staring at the wall.

“i’m tired,” you said, noticing frank was still sitting there, without moving or saying anything. “i know, but i can’t wait to talk tomorrow,” he said, his tone serious. “no, i’m tired about you not trusting me,” you corrected.

frank felt his chest tightening, scared he was about to lose you. “w-what?” he chuckled nervously, as if the words you just said were foreign to him. “you heard me,” you replied.

you sat, angrier than before. “you think you’re the best out there. well, i guess you are… but that’s not the point,” you shook your head. “you always complain about matt, and i understand that because you guys have different opinions, but me?” you met his eyes, taking note of a glimpse of fear. “you always complain about what i do, you say that it’s all because you want me safe, that i risk my life every time i try to help you guys, but you try to protect me in the worst way possible.”

you took a deep breath, noticing frank wasn’t gonna say something. “i know that you care about me, you care so much about the people that you love and maybe you don’t even realise that… but frank, you gotta stop acting like a dipshit, getting angry because people don’t do exactly like you said,” you moved a bit closer to him, sighing. “there are good intentions behind your actions, i know that for sure, but it hurts… the way you look at me, the way you speak in those moments…” you noticed him looking away for a moment, clenching his jaw.

“i’m sorry,” he muttered, closing his eyes for a second. he reopened them and met your eyes, gently grabbing your hands. you let him, waiting patiently for his next words. “baby, i- shit, i’m scared of losing you, like… i hate when you come along with me and red, but not because you’re not good, but because i’m scared that the second you’re out of sight you won’t come back to me.”

you felt him squeezing your hands, nervously. “frank, baby, i know that this scares you, but maybe we can find a way to work together… i mean, being a better team okay?” you tried to show him a smile, letting him know that you weren’t that upset with him. “you always act like you have to protect me, like you have to save me… but i’m here to help, not to make you more stressed,” you caressed his cheeks, comforting him. “i wanna help, but you gotta let me do it,” you spoke softly.

“i know, baby… i can’t help it, it’s just…” frank sighed, struggling to find the right words. “it’s okay, i know what you mean,” you said before hugging him, holding him close to your body. “i’ll stop treating you bad, but i make no promises about the protect you part, you got that?” he said and you chuckled. “i figured you would say that, but that was the point,” you kissed his cheek and then his nose, making him smile.

“i’m sorry for my behaviour,” you looked at him, feeling guilty. “don’t. i probably deserved that, i’m a piece of shit,” he caressed your cheek and stared at your lips for a moment. “i still don’t know what is holding you back from walking out that door and never come back,” he said that chuckling, but you knew that deep down frank feared that day with every cells inside his body. “you give the best bear hugs and no one can resist to those,” you kissed his lips and smiled.

extra an : feedback and reblogs are super appreciated !! if you wanna send me your thoughts about frank hit my inbox <3 have a good day

#rin writes #frank castle x reader #frank castle x you #frank castle x y/n #frank castle blurb #frank castle drabble #frank castle imagine #frank castle one shot #frank castle fanfiction #the punisher #frank castle #jon bernthal #marvel

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harryimaginedstories · 4 years

Text

on your side

genre: au (while I don’t like the term ‘au-fic’ at all imagine the two characters are in college together and in their early twenties.) angst and some fluff as well.

about 5k words

it’s entirely different than anything I have ever published and I really love it. please let me know what you think and stay safe during these wild and often scary times.

read more here: my stories

photo: taken from instagram, previously taken by somebody from the movie AWC, which also inspired me (kinda) to even write this.

They started arguing pretty much the second the car door fell shut behind them and even ten traffic lights, countless of turns and getting honked at twice, didn’t stop their heated exchange of words. Harry’s hands held on to the seat tightly, an attempt not to touch her thigh like he normally would, while hers curled around the steering wheel until the white of her knuckles showed. It wasn’t uncommon for them to fight. They had never been one of those couples who didn’t call each other out on their bullshit or who tried hide anger when there was reason to feel it. However, this was the first time that they weren’t on their way home, where their argument could be settled in private. Instead, Harry and Y/N, both infuriated with each other, were on their way to a party. With one generous rotation of the wheel, Y/N parked Harry’s black car in the last free niche on the street of the frat house. The vehicle gave an unpleasant sound and Harry closed his eyes, his nostrils flaring. Before he got the chance to complain, Y/N swung open the door, stepped out and threw it shut hard enough to know it would set him off.

“Jesus fuck!” Harry shouted, opening the passenger door and stepping out, too.

She waited long enough to press ‘lock’ on the keys once he was out, then she walked away. With quick strides he caught up with her, and had he not been as angry as could be he would have probably felt hurt at her for not waiting up like she would have any other day. Walking next to her he turned to look at her profile, trying to catch her eyes, but she refused.

“Would you mind not taking your crazy out on my fucking car?”

“Oh, so you do care about that then. Good to know,” she snapped back.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Y/N halted and so did he. They were standing on the pavement, one house away from where there could already be heard the dull sound of music blaring and a good meter of distance between them. Any other night they would be standing there, too. Only not to deliver a few more blows before pretending to be alright while their friends were around. On any other night, Harry would have taken advantage of the warm weather, by letting his hands roam across Y/N’s bare arms. She would have given him a kiss or two and made him a laugh at least as much. He would have reminded her for the fifth time (at least) that she looked beautiful. There wouldn’t be any distance between them, let alone one entire meter.

“There is one thing I’ve been hearing clearly through all of the bullshit you’ve said today,” Y/N hissed, her lips barely moving and her hands curling into tight fists by her side, “which is that you don’t give a fuck about me.”

“Oh my god.” His throat bobbed as he swallowed thickly, his head falling back before snapping forward quickly, “You’re being such a lunatic!”

Wind picked up some of her hair and pushed the loose strands into her eyes, breaking the angry stare she’d held with him and for a moment, Harry could have sworn she appeared to be younger. Then she brushed the hair off with shaky hands and back she was, angry and exhausted.

“You’re a dick!” Y/N squealed,

“Well, clearly we could go on,” he snapped and rolled his eyes, “but our fucking friends are waiting for us so do you think you can manage to avoid me for the next few hours so we can at least settle this at home?”

Y/N crossed her arms over her chest, hiding her cleavage which he had tried not to stare ever since she’d put on the blue dress. That damn dress. Focusing on it now it only irked him further. She knew how much he loved it when she wore this particular piece of clothing. It had spent the night on the floor of his bedroom or over the back of a chair often enough. He was certain she’d put it on specifically to spite him.

“Fine, let’s go. But since you’re unhappy with my parking,” Y/N stepped forward and reached up, pressing the hard metal of Harry’s car keys into his chest, “you get to be the designated driver tonight.”

Her fist lingered on the fabric of his black T-shirt. Feeling her touch him momentarily paused his thoughts. All anger was forgotten, as if the wind had picked it up, too, and carried it far away. Harry whimpered and her lips parted, their eyes connecting without any trace of hurt in them. Then his hand found hers and she dropped the set of keys into his palm, snapping them both out of their brief moment of peace.

“I don’t want to see you right now,” Y/N stuttered, blinking rapidly until her eyes turned darker again.

“Don’t come look for me later when you’re drunk and feeling sorry,” Harry replied, before he stepped around her and walked towards the frat building.

Y/N lost sight of him the second he stepped inside. Despite still feeling angry with him, she couldn’t stop herself from briefly wishing he wouldn’t have left her alone. She didn’t like being left alone at a party. Neither did he, for the matter, but she refused to feel guilty for sending him away. Y/N drew a shaky breath and stepped inside, instantly greeted by the smell of alcohol, smoke and pot. A big banner had been hung from one side of the hall to the other, wishing everybody a cheerful start to the new semester. Underneath mingled numerous students, all of which held drinks in their hands. Already Y/N recognized a few of them from some of her classes, she didn’t feel like talking to them however. To her luck she spotted a few friends of her in the first room she entered and was quickly greeted with hugs and kisses to her cheek.

Dena, a girl Y/N had grown close with through sharing an equal distain for their econ teacher, pressed a drink into her hand and smiled. “You look like you need at least two of these.”

Y/N smiled sadly. “That obvious, huh?”

“Well, you didn’t cheer in delight upon seeing us like you should have so,” said Clara, another friend Y/N had made whilst talking badly about her teacher.

“Oh, yeah, I’m sorry.”

Dena nudged her. “Also, your boyfriend stormed past us earlier so we expected something was up.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Clara asked.

Y/N shook her head and took a long sip from her drink. It tasted of a mixture of beer and vodka, which on any other day she would have refused to drink. “I really don’t.”

“Great. Then let’s just cheer to us.”

The two girls raised their own cups and waited expectantly for Y/N to do the same. Dena grinned at her and cleared her throat.

“To us, the coming semester, which we will fucking ace. And-” she paused, looking at Y/N, “to knowing when to kick your boyfriend’s ass. Cheers!”

“Cheers.”

Harry stood by the unlit fire pit in the lounge area, where the chairs had been pushed aside to create a dance floor. A scowl was deeply etched onto his face and he had yet to smile genuinely. He blamed the alcohol he wasn’t allowed to consume for how poorly he was feeling, but he knew even if he had drowned his veins in liquor, it wouldn’t be until he’d feel her touch him that he would be in a better mood. He stood back watching with a few of his mates, who were all except one, very drunk, as some freshmen clumsily turned the dinner table into a bear pong station. Matt, the only sober one left, had tried to get him to talk about why his mood was so sour three times already, receiving no answer each time. Harry rolled his eyes upon feeling him nudge his shoulder again.

“Where’s your girl?”

Harry shrugged. “Don’t know.”

He’d been cursing her short height since turning around and looking for her in the crowded hallway thirty minutes ago. She’d slipped past him without him noticing, and while he was too proud to go look for her properly, it annoyed him that he wasn’t able to casually spot her whenever he scanned one of the many rooms that had been turned into a club. He especially didn’t like it since he knew that she was drinking. Blindly he felt for his phone in his pocket, ensuring for the tenth time that its volume was turned up. Should she call him, he wanted to be sure that he wouldn’t miss it.

“Didn’t she come with you?” Matt pressed on, either oblivious to Harry’s annoyance or simply indifferent to it.

“Doesn’t mean she can’t wander off on her own, does it?” Harry replied, his voice rough.

He’d never really liked Matt. Actually, he’d liked him a lot once. They’d even considered becoming roommates in their second year. He’d liked him, up until he’d gotten together with Y/N and noticed the gleam in Matt’s eyes the first time he’d introduced her to him. Their friendship dissolved fast after.

“I’m sure she can. She’s always been good at enjoying parties, hasn’t she?”

Harry didn’t reply. Once more his eyes scanned the room frantically, detecting every single face in hopes of recognizing the eyes to the one he loved.

“Dude!” Eric, a tall and broad looking bloke who’d just become team captain to the football team, stumbled into Harry’s side, knocking him back.

“Sorry! Shit,” Eric laughed, doubling over, revealing that he was clearly drunker than he should have been, “I’m sorry, mate. Wow, I need to lay off a little.”

“No kidding,” Harry replied, but smiled when Eric slung a heavy arm around his shoulders. The unmistakable smell of alcohol fanned over his face as Eric talked, and his nose scrunched up.

“You’ve been wearing a look as depressing as Matt’s sex life-”

“Hey, fuck you, Eric!” Matt snapped, unamused.

“-and I intend to fix that. C’mon.”

Harry didn’t fight it as the taller guy dragged him away, out of the lounge and into another room further down the hall. He certainly didn’t mind getting away form Matt. Regardless of them having been friends once, Matt was the last person he wanted to be around when he was having a rough time with Y/N. The smoke was thicker in this room and the music a little quieter. There were less people dancing and more sitting around on the couches and chairs. A few stood by the wall in small groups and some, the ones Eric was walking towards, were standing opposite a dart board. They cheered upon seeing the two guys approach, making more noise than anybody else in the room.

“You’re on my team and you’re gonna help me win, yeah? M’taking advantage of you being sober as a stone. Your aim is probably better than any of theirs.”

Harry laughed and nodded, accepting to be involved. “I’ll try my best.”

The first dart arrow was thrust into his hand by a guy named Kyle who appeared to be on the same team. Half an hour later and Eric was grinning from ear to ear, writing their leading score numbers onto a makeshift writing board that was really just the coffee table. Something the guys living in this house would be happy to find in the morning. Y/N watched him. Despite being intoxicated, or perhaps because of how intoxicated she was, she noticed every muscle of his back move each time he raised his arm. Her heart fluttered whenever he laughed and she felt a heat grow at the pit of her stomach whenever he leaned his head to the side, revealing the back of his neck to her. And above his neck was his ear, which hid a spot right under his hairline where he liked to be kissed. Y/N’s lips parted at the thought and her toes curled. He hadn’t noticed her when entering the room. She didn’t blame him though, since she’d successfully hid herself behind Dena and Eric’s big body also worked wonderfully as a shield. Despite anything she’d said before the party, she was immensely relieved to see him. The vodka-beer mixture which she’d learned had been invented by Clara, was disgusting but also got her drunk faster than she had expected. Or intended. Another round of cheers erupted as Harry scored another point for his team.

“Not fair. You won’t give them as much as a chance to win.”

A chill rushed down Harry’s back at the sound of the honey sweet female voice behind him, and Y/N, too, froze in place. Slender fingers touched Harry’s arm, caressing the skin despite being less than welcome to. Upon turning around he was met with Silja, who’s face wore a smile equally sweet as her sly voice. Though standing by the opposite wall, Y/N swore she could hear Silja as if she were standing next to her. She would always be able to detect her voice, especially if the words she spoke were directed to Harry.

Dena followed her friend’s gaze and raised her brows. “Haven’t seen her in a while. I thought she dropped out.”

“Would have been too nice,” Y/N growled.

She’d never actually talked to Silja herself and she surely didn’t intend to. Before getting together with him, Y/N had been mostly oblivious to who was genuinely interested in him and who she imagining to be. Only with Silja there had never been any doubt. Even before Harry had become hers, she’d felt a bitter taste collect in the middle of her tongue whenever the pretty brunette girl tried to talk to him. Once her claim on him had become justified, she disliked Silja and her upfront behaviour all the more.

“Hey, you know you don’t have to worry about her, right?” Dena said quietly, reading Y/N’s expression, “Harry has rejected her what, three times already? Even before he was with you. He’s not interested in her.”

“I know. I’m not worried about that,” Y/N said quickly, stepping around Dena to get a better look at her boyfriend and the girl that had yet to remove her hand from his arm, “I trust him.”

“Doesn’t make her less of a bitch,” Clara grumbled, also staring at them intently.

The three girls watched Harry turn to look at Silja. He gave her a tight lip smile before he stepped away to make room for the next player, conveniently shrugging off her hand in process. To their dismay, Silja followed him.

“I haven’t seen you this summer,” she complained in an uncomfortably high voice, that was laced with feigned displeasure, “Where were you hiding?”

Harry sighed, wishing Y/N would find him already, and rested his back against the wall. The last thing he needed for this party to become worse were the advances of the woman standing before him. “I wasn’t.”

Their summer had been great. They spent it looking for a flat to move into together. One weekend they’d taken the train out to the ocean and spent two days in a pretty bed and breakfast, where nothing distracted them from each other and everything, even their sheets, held the faint smell of sea salt. He wasn’t about to tell any of that to Silja though.

The girl pouted, smudging her lilac lipstick at the corners. “Didn’t you miss me at all? Not even a little bit?”

“No.”

She smiled. Her neck moved to the side as her eyes mustering him. “You and your attitude. I really missed that.”

Harry let his head fall back and for a moment Y/N forgot to eye the girl hitting on her boyfriend and instead stared at his throat. She longed to kiss him there, too. The darkened expression taking over his relaxed face quickly brought her attention back. Thinking about kissing him had made her miss the words Silja had said to upset him.

“You’re wasting your time missing me.”

At last, Silja’s smile dropped. “You’re still with her, then?”

“Yep,” he replied shortly.

“Fine,” Silja pushed the long brown locks off her shoulder and crossed her arms, “maybe if she fucked you right you wouldn’t be such an asshole all the time.”

“Fuck off, Silja,” Harry snapped, pushing himself off the wall to instantly tower over her.

“Harry! Your turn again, mate.”

Without giving her as much as a second look, Harry turned away and followed Eric’s call. Dena’s hand rested on Y/N’s shoulder, squeezing her gently whilst smiling at her. Y/N exhaled loudly and relaxed. She didn’t doubt Harry’s capability of getting rid of Silja. She’d also truly meant it when she’d said that she trusted him. But after their argument she wasn’t so sure that he didn’t want to receive some affection tonight, be it from anybody. While she would have hated it, simply entertaining Silja’s flirting wouldn’t have been cheating. A warm feeling overtook any worry left in her body upon watching him turn Silja away. He didn’t bother look at her again but walked back to his friends to resume the game, treating her like she wasn’t even there. He didn’t even give Silja the satisfaction of remaining angered by her words. Giving up her attempts, Silja walked away and left the room quickly, her cheeks slightly rosy in embarrassment.

“Remind me to kiss him later for that,” Y/N said, her voice holding more love for him than she would usually let on whilst angry.

Clara laughed. “So you’re not mad at him anymore.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me that I was or I might still be.”

“What were you two fighting about anyway?” Dena asked.

Y/N took another long sip from her drink, before remembering that she’d wanted to not drink any more for the night. Oh well.

“He didn’t come home last night. Without notifying me. He fell asleep at stupid Rick’s place and neither of them bothered shooting me a text or ringing me about it. I spent all night worried sick.”

Y/N’s expression hardened at the thought of waiting up for him. She’d paced around the living room of their new flat before settling on the couch, vowing to stay awake until he returned. She’d had half a mind not to call his mother or sister, not quite worried enough to ask them.

“I didn’t see him until an hour before coming here ‘cause I had to work today. So we didn’t have time to properly fight about it.”

“Didn’t he say he was sorry?”

“Sure he did, as well as stating that I was overreacting and not his mother.”

“Ugh, men,” Dena grumbled, then she changed the subject, “Let’s get refills in the kitchen!”

Harry got bored of the game after the fifth round, but stayed to play until the team he’d joined won by a margin. Then he politely excused himself from playing another round. Though she’d told him she didn’t want to see him, Harry really wanted to see Y/N and he figured over an hour of distance sufficed for her to calm down. Maybe she would even allow herself to be happy about him finding her. He strolled around the room, then went looking in the hall and finally searched the lounge. If only she were a little taller, he thought once more. All of sudden he heard a loud shout. It wasn’t one of the usual party hollers, it was one that held no joy at all. With swift strides Harry crossed the room, turned left in the hallway and entered the kitchen. This time he didn’t have to search to see her. Y/N was sitting on the counter, her legs dangling down and her hands curling around the stone surface. Across from her was the kitchen table on which all of the different liquor bottles had been placed. It was also where the single shout turned into several. A guy Harry hadn’t ever seen around campus before stood next to a broken bottle of vodka. His hand curled into a fist and his face was red. Opposite him stood Dena, a girl Harry barely knew beyond her being a friend of Y/N. Next to Dena was a guy named Dylan, his face painted with guilt and worry.

“You fucking broke my shit!” the stranger shouted.

Y/N flinched. It wasn’t Dena who’d pissed off the wrong guy, but Dylan who had tried to make a drink for them. She didn’t feel any less involved if the guy were to be shouting at her. The second the bottle had broken and the tall stranger exclaimed that it’d been his, Y/N had felt fear curse through her. She hated it. She hated how a man shouting was so scary that she froze in place. Just like she always did when afraid, her eyes began to search for Harry. Heavy like a wave and equally overwhelming was the relief when she saw him lingering in the doorway. Their eyes met. Y/N visibly relaxed. She could read the question in the look he was giving her and she eagerly nodded. There were so few people scattered around the small place, Harry had no trouble reaching the counter. Once in arms reach she held out her right hand, whimpering when his fingers slotted through hers and holding on tight. Any anger towards each other was forgotten the moment their skin touched. Y/N gave a determined pull until he stood next to where she was sitting, her legs touching his waist. Harry didn’t say anything, but he allowed her to let go of his hand to instead hold on to his shoulder. His own settled heavily on her thigh, relishing the feeling of her bare skin. He didn’t complain when her fingers curled tightly around the fabric of his shirt, nor did she mind how intimate it felt to have his hand on her naked thigh. His eyes quickly scanned her face, waiting for her nod, confirming that she was alright. Y/N smiled gently, relief mirroring in her eyes. Harry returned her smile. His heart clenching when he noticed the faint veil of alcohol before her eyes. Ever so slightly, their heads leaned towards each other, then his nose softly touched her forehead.

“He didn’t do it on purpose,” Dena said defensively, “and these bottles are for everybody to use.”

Harry shifted closer to Y/N but removed his nose form her hairline. Unwillingly he turned his attention back to where the argument grew. The stranger’s head, figuratively doubling in size by the minute, was red and looming over Dena like a balloon hovering in the sky. He had to admit it was impressive that Dena, equally short as Y/N, refused to back off.

“I wasn’t asking you! You and your friend better figure out how to replace my drink and you better do it fast!”

“Mate, lay off a bit, will ya? They didn’t do anything on purpose,” Harry interrupted, his voice calm and steady, “Why don’t you just grab one of the ten other bottles and leave ‘em alone?”

The stranger, slightly shorter than Harry, turned to look at them. Y/N tightened her hold on his shoulder. She was mentally preparing herself to jump off the counter and at the stranger’s throat instead, should he as much as try to pick a fight with Harry. Noticing her shift beside him, Harry’s hold on her intensified.

“Leave them alone?” the tall guy snapped, “that was twenty fucking quid he broke!”

“Bit embarrassing that you’re whining about twenty quid,” Harry said, wearing a smug grin, “and picking a fight like some kind of neanderthals who found out somebody’s pissed into his cave.”

Dena giggled and so did Y/N, along with some bystanders who’d gathered to watch. The bloke narrowed his eyes, first at Harry, then at the girl sitting beside him.

He opened his mouth to speak, but Y/N interrupted him. “Quit looking at me and spare me any sexist bullshit you’re about to say.”

The guy rolled his eyes, then smiled. “You’re pretty for a bitch.”

Y/N’s hand yanked Harry back by his shoulder equally fast as he’d pushed off the counter to lunge forward and at the guy. The movement caused him to knock against the counter uncomfortably. She didn’t let go and didn’t move, despite Harry’s enraged breathing getting louder.

“Fuck you!” Harry shouted, eyes wide.

Anger oozed out of his pores and heat settled in the small kitchen. Calm and collected only a moment ago, he was all the more scarier now that he was enraged. Scary enough to make the stranger take back a step. Y/N loosened her hold on Harry’s shoulder, sliding her hand down to press against his back instead. She rubbed his spine gently, hoping to ease him by letting him know she was okay.

"You need to leave,” Y/N stated, her voice calm.

“Definitely,” Dena agreed, her eyes trained on her friend before finding Harry.

He didn’t return her gaze, his eyes remained on the tall blonde. They stayed put until the guy lowered his empty cup to the table, the movement slow and deliberate. He clearly didn’t want it to look like he was leaving because he was told to, so he took his time. But finally he turned away, before at last leaving the kitchen and hopefully the party all together.

Harry shuddered upon feeling Y/N’s nose against the shell of his ear. “I’m fine, Harry.”

“What a wanker.”

“A fucking wanker,” Y/N replied, her smile practically audible in her voice.

Harry turned around to face her, all of his attention returning to where it belonged: her. His eyes looked into hers intently, reading every answer to all of his unspoken questions.

“Are you alright?”

“Yes. Are you?”

He nodded. “Did he try anything before I came?”

“I noticed him about zero-point-five seconds before you arrived, Harry. I’m fine, I promise.”

Her hands gently took hold of his face. The fingers of her left hand traced along his jawline as tenderly as one would the rim of a glass in hopes of eliciting a sound. That’s how Harry sometimes felt when she touched him. Like she was being as tender as she could possibly fathom to be.

“Does that mean you’re gonna go back to being mad at me?” As he spoke, Harry moved closer. His hands rested on each side of her hips, allowing his body to get closer to hers as he leaned forward.

Y/N laughed and shook her head, their faces so close they almost touched. She enjoyed the warmth of his breath fanning against her throat.

“Are you? You were at least as pissed off as I was.”

He shrugged, then playfully nudged her nose with his. “No.”

“Then I think I’ll let it go, too,” she answered, faking to be coy, “For now, you still owe me an apology later.”

Harry laughed. “That’s fair. Promise to mean it this time, too.”

Her eyes narrowed. She took hold of his chin, holding him still so she could kiss him without giving him the chance to deepen it. The feeling of his mouth slotting with hers, be it as briefly as it was, ignited her like nothing else could. Any remaining worry was pulled from the corners in her body where it had hidden, and was thrown out not to return. Harry took over. All of the space inside her that could belong to an emotion, now belonged to him.

“I knew you didn’t mean it earlier,” she breathed accusingly against his lips.

“I meant it a little,” he said, curling his hand around her wrist to pull away the hold she’d taken and he kissed her a second time before she could complain.

Despite their desperation their teeth didn’t clash together, nor did their noses unintentionally bump. They’d kissed too many times not to blindly meet each other without missing. His tongue glided along her bottom lip, hers pushed his aside so it could trespass into his mouth. Frantic hands held on to her hips and her thigh, eager fingers remembered to be gentle as they settled on the back of his neck. Harry moaned and Y/N pulled away.

“Thank you,” she whispered, just enough space between them so she could speak.

Harry’s kisses trailed down from the corner of her mouth to her cheek and her jaw, his lips warm, wet and determined. He allowed one kiss to last a little longer, followed by a small lick to her earlobe.

As satisfied as could be as long as they weren’t alone, he raised his head to look at her again. “What for?”

“Being on my side even when we’re fighting.”

The smile gracing her features was so genuine he could have melted, just like her words were spoken with more love behind them than he could detect. He smiled and willingly moved his head to the side, so she could kiss below his ear. The heat in his belly grew and he let her know by squeezing her hips.

“Ditto.”

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startanewdream · 3 years

Text

I have this multichap WIP in the works for ages and now thanks to @sunshine-marauders' prompt ("Insecure James") I finally got around posting the first day!

Read on AO3 or below:

____________

Not a bad day

Chapter 1 - Not a bad game day

The moment the portrait closed and all sounds of the party vanished, James let the smile slip out of his face and his hands grabbed his hair nervously, fighting back a will to just tear them away.

Ten points.

In his first match as Quidditch captain, Gryffindor won by ten points.

It had never happened before in all twelve matches James had played; James remembered easy winnings, even in that match last year that he had to play as Seeker when Godfrey had broken his arm the night before the match, but back then they had a decent captain. Or two, because the Prewett twins were co-captains and they knew how to be a captain.

He’d thought he had done everything right. He had trained with the other chasers, making sure they worked as a team; he’d instructed the keeper in how to detect and avoid any tricks, sharing with him even James' secret manoeuvres. He’d practised with the two beaters, spent afternoon days with them with himself as their target and James had been to the Hospital Wing with two broken ribs, but he was certain the beaters could hit any target. And James had spent even more hours with the new seeker, developing all skills that were already there and making sure she was confident enough.

And then everything had crumbled in the first ten minutes of the match.

James had called for two time-outs and had talked to his team, bestowed upon them his best confident charm, but nothing seemed to work; and despite his words, he was equally lost. He didn’t know if he should try to redirect his team or make sure they had enough goals to not matter if they lost. If he wasn’t the captain, he would be scoring as many as possible — but everyone was looking at him in search of an answer he didn't have and the narrator was gladly commenting about every mistake Gryffindor was making and…

And a miracle had happened when Vance had caught the snitch, but James knew it had been more an accident than actual talent.

He hadn’t said anything about it though. His team — his carefully chosen and well-trained players — knew the match had been horrible and James didn’t have the spirit to let them down even more. So he had done his captain duty: he had praised everyone for whatever he could (‘That pass was amazing, Jones. You almost hit that bludger perfectly, Merryweather. Spectacular diversion of that bludger, Vance), and he had congratulated them for the victory.

None of the Gryffindors seemed to think anything was amiss. The victory party was raging when the team arrived — loud music and bottles of butterbeer all around. Sirius was drinking something that definitely wasn’t butterbeer and James had been tempted to lose himself too, but he had passed.

He had expected to drink to celebrate, not to drown away his misery.

After a while, he had just risen and left the Common Room quietly. With luck, his friends would just think he had left to celebrate with someone or had fallen drunk behind some couch.

The halls were quiet and empty, which James considered a small blessing. He wasn’t in the mood to deal with any joke about his performance as captain or even worse, any compliment about it.

He just wanted to be left alone to brood, really, and to think how everything had gone so wrong.

He found an empty classroom to sit in, watching the sun shining over the surface of the lake. The good thing was that the game lasted only one hour — the bad side of it meant it was still early and the party would last until nightfall. He wondered if he could just hide there all day — probably not, James thought as his stomach rumbled. He just wanted that horrible miserable day to end.

James lasted another thirty minutes until he agreed that he needed something to eat. The only question was if he would rather risk going to the kitchen or back to the Common Room — if people started clapping his back again, James was sure he would just throw up. What he needed, really, was to go to Professor McGonagall and return the captain badge so she could pin it on anyone else — and then he would be free to do what he was good at, that was scoring goals without worries about what everyone else was doing.

The Common Room, James decided. From there he could just slip back to his bed and then pretend he was too drunk and just try to sleep. Anything to end that day, to pretend it had never happened at all.

He left the classroom absently, and he was closing the door when he heard a voice that made him jump.

‘Potter?’

His hand went to his hair, in a gesture that was more reflex than anything. There were a lot of reflexes that James couldn’t help whenever he heard her voice — such as that redness that came to his neck or the way his heart beat faster whenever Lily Evans was around.

Mostly the last one.

And especially when he turned around and his eyes found Lily Evans standing in the middle of the hall, watching him leaving the classroom. She was still dressed in Gryffindor colours: wearing the uniform lazily, the tie hanging undone around her neck over two open buttons of her shirt; her face was painted with two lines of red and gold in each cheek, and her red hair was combed in two braids that were lined with golden flecks. He felt he could stay there watching her forever.

Good Godric, she was beautiful.

James refrained from sighing.

‘Hi, Evans,' he said, and his voice did that melodious thing that always happened when he was near her.

James really wished he could talk to Lily Evans as if he was a normal human being, but his body was always full of reactions when it came to her, no matter how much he tried to control them.

He was trying to forget her after all. Evans had already made it clear that she wasn’t interested in him — which was becoming more evident now as she watched him with a sudden suspicious expression, her eyes narrowing.

‘What are you doing?’

‘Going back to the Common Room?’ he answered, feeling a little unsure. There was something about Evans that always made him feel guilty as if she could find the worst faults in him.

Even when he wasn’t doing anything wrong such as now.

‘You left the party,' mumbled Evans, still sounding accusing as if he had no right to leave in the first place.

‘So did you,' James smirked, which he knew wouldn’t work with Evans but he had to try anyway. ‘What are you doing, Evans?’

‘Patrolling,' she answered easily, pointing to the prefect badge pinned on her robe, in the same place James had his captain badge pinned. ‘Which is why I get to ask what you were doing alone in an empty room — oh.' Evans looked away from him, an annoyed expression crossing her face. ‘You weren’t alone.'

‘What?’

‘No one is supposed to enter classrooms without permission, you know that, Potter,’ reprimanded Evans, ignoring him. ‘I will have to report it to Professor McGonagall.'

‘Ah, come on,' James complained, the unfairness of it making him grimace. ‘I can’t even brood alone without getting detention? Really?’

Evans blinked.

‘Alone? I thought — you left the party, and Vance too and — brooding?’ She paused, watching him with concern now, which James realized was even worse. On top of all his failures, he also didn’t need Evans’ pity. ‘What happened, Potter?’

‘Nothing.'

‘You look like someone stole the last piece of chocolate tart that you always pick up first at dinner — really, what’s up? Shouldn’t you be celebrating your victory?’

‘Just let go, Evans,' he asked, turning away from her and walking down the hall. He could hear her rushed steps after him.

‘Potter —'

‘I am a crappy captain, is that what you wanted to hear?’ he cried, turning around to face Evans. He hadn’t noticed how close she was, but for once James didn’t let this thought distract him. ‘I had one job that was to keep the team working and I screwed it up.'

‘Butt —’ Evans looked really confused. ‘But Gryffindor won.'

‘By ten points. We needed a good margin of points to not depend on the result of other games and now we have to double our work —’

‘You still won,' she insisted, watching him closely and there was no pity or annoyance on her face now. ‘Winning by ten points is better than losing by ten and, be honest, even if you had won by a thousand points, would it have made a difference?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘A victory by a giant margin — would you have relaxed your efforts with the team? Would you stop working so hard with Matt and Lucy? Or stop all those night meetings with Emmeline?’

James blinked slowly, not understanding what Evans meant by that. Of course he would keep trying to improve his team.

‘No.'

‘And if Gryffindor could lose by three hundred points and still win the Quidditch Cup — would you want the team to play poorly?’

‘No, of course not!’

‘So, Potter.' Evans crossed her arms like she had done a thousand times before at him but James didn’t think she was exasperated this time. ‘This one match doesn’t change anything. You still have work to do with your team.'

James shifted the weight from one foot to another, thinking. Evans was still watching him, her green eyes giving him the impression that she could see every thought unfolding in his mind; she didn’t look surprised when he nodded.

‘I guess the game wasn’t so bad. I mean, there is room for improvement, but now I saw everyone’s weakest points and I can work with that.'

‘Exactly, captain,' Evans said, and James dared to think there was a teasing note in her voice, one that he’d heard her sharing with others but never with him.

He fought very hard his desire to grin.

‘Ready to go back to the party?' she asked.

'Yeah. And you?'

He tried not to sound too hopeful. Considering Evans didn't look repulsed by his question, James thought he had been successful.

'It was a little boring,' Evans said, shrugging. 'I don't know, I expected it to be more fun.'

'It's because I wasn't there,' James teased, but this seemed the wrong thing to say. Evans took a step back, frowning; panic flooded him and he added hurriedly: 'I mean, who left Sirius in charge of the music? He grew up with classical music.'

Her expression softened.

'Maybe you could tap the radio to Muggle stations? Like you did last year?'

James fought to keep a neutral face. She had noticed he was the one that did it, then? He'd thought Evans was too mad at him back then — during all that party, James had tried to draw her attention, certain that him leading Gryffindor to the victory would make Evans want to go out with him, but she had refused to even glance in his direction.

But she had noticed his charm.

'I could,' he replied slowly. 'It is much better to dance.'

'Yeah,' she agreed and then Evans smiled at him.

She smiled. At him. On purpose. That warm glorious smile that had first attracted him years ago, long before he knew what it meant.

His heart was doing full acrobatics dancing steps inside him now.

'Are you going back too?' he asked, desperately willing himself to look normal, though his hand wanted very much to comb his hair — or touch her braids, he wasn't sure.

Evans bit her lip, looking down the corridor that led to the Astronomy Tower.

'It's Saturday,' James added as charmingly as he could, his voice again melodious and nice. 'Do you really need to be patrolling today?'

'Actually… no, I wasn't scheduled. It's just —'

'The party was lame, I know.' She looked back at him; it was difficult to concentrate under her gaze, but James had to try. 'But still better than patrolling empty halls, I’d say.

He tried that puppy look he always saw Remus using when he wanted something; at least it should be more efficient than his confident gaze that Evans never seemed to find amusing. But she took one look at his face and she averted her eyes quickly, looking suddenly flustered.

'Well, it wasn't my schedule anyway,' she agreed, walking next to him in the direction of the Gryffindor Tower. 'And I could use a drink.'

'Sirius' version or the normal butterbeer?'

'What's in his version?' Evans asked, and James could hear the amusement in her voice as if she was already predicting his answer.

'Probably not butter, only beer — and worse.'

She let out a giggle. James pretended the sound did not fill his heart with hope and joy.

'I will stay out of his version then. I would like to remember this day tomorrow.'

James thought of sharing a smile and a decent conversation with Evans — she had noticed he always saved a chocolate tart for himself? Or that he had charmed the radio to play Muggle songs? And she was actually going back to the party because he had asked? — and decided he would like to remember that day too. It had not been that bad.

_________

#jily #jily fanfiction #sixth year jily is my guilty pleasure #not a bad day

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zodiyack · 4 years

Text

Snapping Is Over Rated

Pairing: Kol Mikaelson x Salvatore!Female!Reader

Warnings: Spoilers?, swearing, angst, mention of murder, mention of the humanity switch being flipped

Words: 1,635

Summary: It’s a bad time to be dating a Mikaelson when your brothers decide they want to go on a quest to kill the Original Family, who happen to be linked to each other.

Taglist: @matth1w, @redspaceace-writes, @fandom-puff, @darling-i-read-it, @simonsbluee

Masterlist | The Vampire Diaries Masterlist | The Originals Masterlist

It wasn’t long before Y/n discovered what her brothers were hiding. In fact, it was hiding that led to her putting two and two together. A poorly hid white oak stake and two very suspicious brothers, my my, what could be the problem?

She knew that they only hid it from her due to her romance with one of the Mikaelsons.

Kol was, like his older half-brother, a little off the walls. Nevertheless, he remained loyal and loving. Their relationship had shown her a good side of vampirism, as well as convinced him that life still had meaning even if he wasn’t a witch anymore.

But, if her brothers went through with their plan, neither of them would have that anymore. So she went out to put a large red stop-sign in the middle of their little plot.

“Gah!” Damon hissed as his younger sister sped in front of him, “Where the hell did you come from?”

“Home. Where the hell are you going?” Y/n spat back. She grinned when Damon sighed after studying her for a few moments.

“Uhhh...the Grill.”

“Ah... But, dear brother, the Grill is in the other direction.” Her smile grew wider with the feeling of success. “So, tell me, where are you going? And, please- the truth this time, if you will?”

Stefan walked up behind Damon, turning himself in as he knew they’d been caught. “Damn it. Curse our sister and her inhuman intellect.”

“Don’t curse me for my brains, curse that bitch of a vampire that turned you two as well. Had you not engaged in her games, we’d all be dead and happy in our graves.”

“You could just stake yourself or walk into the sun, ya know?” Damon chuckled teasingly but stopped quickly upon his sister’s dead glare.

“Yes, of that, I am aware. However, you two are also aware of my boyfriend...” She glanced at the bag in Stefan’s hand, somehow already having a terribly accurate guess of what it’s contents were, “A little too aware.”

Stefan sighed, “I mean, yeah. He’s a Mikaelson, Y/n/n-”

“That doesn’t matter! You can’t go through with it! Please...Damon?” Her older brother raised his hands in front of his chest, telling her to leave him out of it with a simple sympathy smirk and squint of his eyes. “You’ve got to be kidding me. Seriously? Have I ever tried to kill one of your girlfriends?”

The brothers thought for a moment before shaking their heads. Stefan looked down to the bag of stakes and back up to his sister, holding the same sympathetic expression as Damon. “I’m sorry. But, Klaus has to die. They all do.”

“No! Kol doesn’t!”

“He attacked Matt, Y/n!” Damon wasn’t one to care for most mortals, but Elena and Matt had been targets of some of the Mikaelsons for a bit of time, and he did end up growing a little closer to the group of abnormal friends, so he made an exception. Unfortunately, he was only willing to let that exception go so far.

“And? You attacked Bonnie! And Jeremy! Let’s not forget Alaric. My point is, we all make mistakes!”

“We all make mistakes, yet Kol has made over a thousand years worth of those without even apologizing. I’ve apologized...for most of them...” Stefan side-glared Damon, whom responded with a jab to Stefan’s side with his elbow. “And, well, my point is that he’s an original who’s just as bad as the other originals. We have a chance to kill the worst of them all, and you can’t stop us.”

She paused, chewing on the inside of her cheek as she thought. Usually, family went first, but they were ever so willing to destroy her happiness- to destroy her first ever romance- that she didn’t really care for the usual anymore.

“You’re right. I can’t stop you. But, if that’s how you guys wanna play,” the veins under her eyes began to darken and her e/c orbs turned red, “then lets play.”

“Wherever is your little play-thing, brother?” Klaus’ voice rang through the phone. Kol only chuckled in response, continuing to watch as Jeremy failed painfully at baseball. “I take it she has yet to arrive?”

“Well, for one, brother, she’s not my play-thing. She’s my girlfriend.” A sincere look of love washed over Kol’s features; his undead heart skipped a beat just thinking about her. “And secondly, I suppose she is rather late.”

“Would you like me to resort to plan two? I can always threaten the witch’s little boyfriend some more. Perhaps get her to do a tracking spell?”

He thought for a moment, debating his options and the situation before licking his lips and nodding. “Plan two it is. See you later, Nik.”

“Until next time, Kol.”

“Shit!” Damon yelped as he dodged a plate that flew over his head. The house had been turned upside down and wrecked in a fit of rage. Just as her brother once had, Y/n had flipped the switch.

Although flipping the switch sounds like something you’d do in a state of pain, Y/n did it in, like mentioned, a fit of rage. In result, it was more like she’d snapped than flipped a switch.

Stefan, hiding with his back against a flipped over couch, attempted to make hand motions to Damon; a wordless code. Sadly, Damon was not in the best state of mind to register the meaning of Stefan’s odd finger movements.

“What?” He whisper-yelled as his brows furrowed in confusion. “Okay, okay, can we continue this later? We kinda have a very deadly and very very angry sister trying to kill-” Damon rolled over, dodging a knife that had come out of the other side of the table due to it being thrown so harshly, “...us.”

“Damn it Damon- I was trying to get us to go,” He pointed towards the door, “in that direction!”

“I can hear you, you know!” Plate after plate hit the wall in front of them.

“On three?” Damon nodded. They began counting quietly in unison until they got to three. From there, they made a break for the front door and to Elena’s house, where they picked the doppelganger up and headed for Matt’s house. Luckily, Matt had never brought anyone from the group to his house aside from Elena and Caroline. He answered the door and let the three in quickly, looking around before shutting and locking it.

“No- you idiot- she can’t get in. There’s no point in locking it.” Damon groaned from the couch.

“Be nice.”

He bitterly responded to Elena’s demand with a fake smile and an obviously sarcastic tone. “Yes, milady.”

“So uh...” Of course Matt hadn’t been informed as to why the three were hiding in his home. “What happened?”

“Oh, ya know, the usual.” The sarcasm in Damon’s voice held thick as ever, “Pissed off my sister by telling her we’re going to kill the originals, as in all of them- including her boy-toy.”

“You did what-”

“Oops. Sorry Elena. I might’ve forgotten to add the part about pissing her off...which reminds me of the most important detail...” He smiled toothily with faux remorse.

The two humans blinked at the dark haired vampire, staring blankly as they waited for the detail he’d spoken of. When it became clear that he wasn’t going to tell them, Stefan cleared his throat and redirected their attention to him. “She flipped her switch.”

“Flipped her switch? Nah, screw the switch. It’s more like she ignored the switch and just plain old snapped.” Damon crossed his arms behind his head and kicked his feet up onto Matt’s coffee table.

He acted as if his sister was not going off the walls in anger. Or rather, he acted as if it was just a casual every day thing for the soft-spoken and caring sister of the Salvatore boys to go on a potential murder spree.

Elena rolled her eyes and scoffed before shoving his feet off the surface. She ignored the glare that burned into her skin and slapped Damon. The sound of her skin hitting his made the other two in the room flinch; it was clear that she did not approve of his choices in the slightest.

“You’re fixing your sister. S-”

“What!? That’s not f-”

“Stefan, and I will go stake the originals. Understood?” Damon huffed and ignored Elena. “Understood?” She repeated herself with a harsher tone before Damon sighed and nodded.

“Yeah yeah, understood.”

Finn was dead. And the other four still breathed the air of the living world. The link had been broken, and they’d failed.

Damon had been kidnapped by Rebekah, therefore failing to stall, as well as fix, his little sister. What he didn’t know, was that Rebekah had contacted Y/n as soon as possible, informing her on the details of her brother’s murder and the older Salvatore’s location.

She sent Stefan to pick up Damon with a disguised note, preventing him from knowing that it had been her to hint to him his brother’s location. After saying goodbye wordlessly from the shadows, she smiled to herself and ran as fast as possible to Kol.

The youngest Mikaelson chuckled as the female Salvatore knocked him off his feet and buried her face into the crook of his neck. “I see you’ve recovered from your snap? Nik told me how you flipped your switch.” His arms held her tightly against his own form. They relished in the feeling of one another, the knowledge that both were safe and together again.

“Snapping is over rated.” She smiled wider against his skin, causing a matching smirk to grace his face.

“You were faking?”

“Yep. Anything to be with you again... But, just to be safe, don’t tell my brothers.”

His chest heaved with hearty laughter, “Whatever you want, love.”

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forasecondtherewedwon · 4 years

Text

Kentucky Calling

Pairing: Beth Harmon/Benny Watts Rating: T Word Count: 1426

Summary: Beth calls Benny up, hoping to talk a few things through after Russia, and finds him just as eager to hear her voice as she is to hear his.

“What?”

Beth’s eyebrows rise at Benny’s fed-up tone.

“Well, this isn’t the greeting I was expecting.” She smiles against the receiver.

“Beth?”

“That’s right,” she says with a laugh in her voice. “Who am I supposed to be?”

He groans and her smile widens, sure his irritation is not for her.

“The fucking State Department.”

“Why are you angry at the State Department?”

“They wouldn’t give me any details about you, when you were expected back. I managed to keep one son of a bitch on the line half an hour, but he just squirmed the whole time, refusing to share your itinerary. Where are— You’re back,” he says with sudden realization.

She hears him calm and uses the change to judge how worried he was a moment ago. Fairly worried, Beth decides. Oh, Benny.

“Yep. In Lexington as we speak. Calling from my own kitchen.”

He sighs.

“You might’ve let me know.”

“You know, I asked on the plane, but the pilot just wouldn’t radio the control tower to call you up for me,” she jokes. She laughs.

“So, did you give them the slip?”

“More or less. The State Department’s itinerary didn’t align very well with mine at the end there. I stayed a couple extra days to actually experience a little of the city and then flew home by myself.”

“Huh.”

“Benny?”

“Yeah?”

Beth grips the phone.

“Are you going to forgive me for worrying you? Now that I’ve confirmed they didn’t lose me over the Atlantic?”

“You yes. Them? No. Those bastards deserve a little hassling after they didn’t fund your trip. They pay a guy to watch you every waking goddamn minute, plus his flight, his room—how much does that cost?”

“I can’t believe you’ve been sitting around harassing the government on my behalf,” Beth says wonderingly, partly to head off Benny’s building rant. The man loves to talk.

“Well, the others got sick of me, as you can imagine.”

“Harry? Matt? The others? They’re still with you?”

“Can’t get rid of ‘em. They’ve been celebrating since you won and sleeping that off until midafternoon. When they drag themselves out to have lunch somewhere, I… well, I sit around with the phone to my ear, on hold, looking for you.”

“I beat him,” she whispers, because she can finally break the news to him herself.

“You did.” She can feel Benny smiling in the long pause. She’s doing the same. “I saw the writeup of your moves; looked like the most expensive phone call I’ve ever made was worth something.”

“It meant a lot. If you hadn’t had a clue about what I should try next against Borgov, it would’ve meant the same.”

“Look. I’m… I shouldn’t have spoken to you the way I did before you left. I felt terrible about it right away.”

“Good. And I…” Beth takes a deep breath that she’s sure he can hear. She twists the phone cord around her finger and tilts her head back against the wall. “…I shouldn’t have pushed you away in the first place. I hurt you, I could hear it in your voice, and—”

“I don’t need excuses. It was shortsighted of me to get defensive. What you were trying to accomplish was bigger than me.”

She agrees with a hum and adds, “Yes. Beating communists in the name of Jesus is for the good of us all.”

She thrills at his burst of laughter.

“How the hell did you pay for Moscow without them?”

“Jolene. You’ll meet her sometime, I hope.”

“If that means I can see you again, I’d be glad to.”

Now, there’s a distinct lack of breath because they both seem to be holding it.

“You will,” she says. After grazing her gaze thoughtfully around the kitchen, Beth frowns and remembers something. “Did the papers say anything about how Borgov looked at the end of the match?”

“They said he took the defeat with dignity. That he hugged you—is that true?”

She rolls her eyes at Benny’s poorly disguised annoyance.

“Yes, but I mean his face. He seemed at peace. Like I had helped him, somehow. Other people I’ve played, and I’m sure people you’ve played too, have this franticness, this terrifying, transparently obvious floundering quality. They don’t know what they’re going to do with the next five minutes of their life after losing, never mind months or years. But Borgov knew. His wife and son were always with him. I think, at the end, he was ready to be with his family.” She waits a second or two, mentally checking and confirming her next move before she speaks. “That’s what I want too.”

“I— What is this, Beth? A proposal?”

She laughs and clutches the phone as she shakes her head.

“Of course not. I just want you to know that you’re important to me.” Her voice grows solemn and fond. “Thank you for calling. I’ll never forget it.”

“I guess I had enough to get to Moscow with you after all,” Benny says, speech softening similarly until he sounds impossibly intimate. Like he only really has that time he said he missed her. The fact that he’s more vulnerable like this than he is face-to-face is something Beth enjoys about them being far enough apart to need to call. He clears his throat. “So it’s good that you weren’t trying to propose, because we know my, uh, allocation of funds could use some improvement and you don’t need to saddle yourself with that.”

“I certainly don’t. I have three thousand dollars to pay back to Jolene and then… I don’t know. Keep paying for the house.”

Beth twirls her hand in the air to indicate it, though he’s not there to see. If she tries, she can picture his leather jacket folded over the back of a chair, his hat tossed carelessly onto the counter. It’s not a bad picture. Definitely not the worst domestic vignette this place has ever staged.

“Grand plans.”

“Don’t make fun of me.”

“Make fun of the woman who just annihilated the World Champion? I wouldn’t dare. You’d drive straight out here and do to me what you did to Borgov. I can only be humbled like that so often.”

“Once every fifteen years?” she prompts.

“Hmm, ideally, but I won’t be able to resist playing you that long.”

“Well, I won’t go easy.”

“Going easy would only insult me,” Benny assures her.

“Got it. You prefer being beaten so thoroughly that I have to sweep the ashes of your ego off the board afterwards. Like dust.”

“I’m not rushing to play you again after that comment.”

“We could do something else. When I see you,” Beth elaborates, feeling herself perk up, her back straightening. “We don’t have to play chess.”

“The two of us, not playing chess.” He sounds like he’s genuinely contemplating it. “That’s original, but I don’t think it’d last very long. How much of the time we’ve shared has been spent not playing chess? I’ll tell you: very little.”

“But it’s possible. Whether or not you’ll stop talking about chess, on the other hand…”

“I—ha—I do remember a particular instance of you being ticked off at me about that.”

Whether or not Beth has consciously led them there, they’ve arrived. At least he can recall that going over strategy immediately after they had sex didn’t impress her, though he was befuddled by her brusqueness at the time.

“You wanna show me that you’ve learned from that?” she challenges.

She hears the groan he must be muffling behind his hand.

“If I told you in full how badly I want to show you that, we’d be running up another big telephone bill.”

Beth smiles coyly to herself and taps her fingernail against the back of the receiver.

“How big, Benny?”

“Beth, I— Hey, you’re back!” His voice is louder and she understands it’s for other people, the friends who have reentered his apartment. “No, idiot, she doesn’t want to talk to you. She doesn’t have to tell me, I already know.”

“Tell them all I hope to see them soon,” she pipes up to reclaim Benny’s attention. They can’t carry on now.

She hears him deliver her message before his voice sinks low again for her, his audience of one.

“Can you come to New York?” he asks. It has the ring of a riddle with all the times he’s posed the question to her before.

“Fuck that,” Beth says, grinning. “I’ll see you in Kentucky the day after tomorrow.”

#my writing #The Queen's Gambit #Beth Harmon #Benny Watts #beth x benny

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elldell1204 · 4 years

Text

Confessions - Matt Casey x Reader

Anonymous: Hey! Could you do a Matt Casey X Reader? Maybe you could include the prompt ‘I hate that I love you‘

Thank you for the request, and I hope I made something similar to what you meant! Wasn’t sure if you wanted it a little more angsty than I made it, but I’m pretty happy with how this turned out. Enjoy! 😊

wc - 2,655

Ah, Matt Casey. The man who didn’t realise just how charming he is. You were surprised women didn’t just fall at his feet wherever he walked, but who knows? They might, but he just keeps helping them up, thinking they were in need of saving. He is a firefighter, after all, and that’s what he does best.

You wouldn’t have guessed that, though, if you were to meet him on the street and not on your first day as a new member of Truck. Possibly a thief by the way he stole your breath away when your eyes landed upon him, the slightly stretched fabric of his white captain’s shirt that was distorted by the muscles they poorly hid underneath, a pair of eyes the colour of aquamarine, golden hair that looked like the sun had kissed it and a smile that warmed you from the inside out.

You remembered it like it was yesterday, mainly how you had to swallow the massive lump that had formed in your throat and introduce yourself to your new boss, who you now had the hots for. Safe to say the cold water you splashed on your face afterwards did very little to help your composure.

Since then, you had scolded yourself every time you admired him a little too long, every time you thought about what those large but oh so meticulous hands could do, every time you imagined what you and him could have if it weren’t for you working under his command. Truth be told, the only things stopping you from blurting out how you felt were the natural fear of it being unreciprocated and the fact that he was your captain.

You were sure the rest of your family at 51 would welcome a relationship between the two of you. In fact, Stella had teased you multiple times about the longing gazes at his form whilst doing drills, she had even told you to ‘go for it, girl, get your man’, which you had laughed at brushed off. You’re even pretty sure Herrmann gave you some fatherly advice about it under the guise of it being something every young woman should know. Only, you knew that it would be frowned upon by the rest of the CFD, and as soon as they found out, CFD Brass would be coming for your badge or forcing you to move houses.

So, for right now, you were happy admiring what you couldn’t have whilst keeping your close friendship with Casey just that and staying with your family at 51. And that’s the way it’ll have to be.

“Hey, Y/N.” Casey chirped, breaking your reverie as he circled around the counter to stand just beside where you were drying the dishes.

“G’morning, Casey. You sound very chipper for seven-thirty in the morning.” You cast a smile his way, which he already wore and therefore returned, but you could’ve sworn it got a little brighter.

“I’m seeing my niece this weekend for her birthday, so I’m really looking forward to it.” He explained as he reached for a glass in the cupboard above you.

Your heart could have burst at how cute this was. He was absolutely beaming with joy.

“That sounds lovely, Matt.” You reply, genuinely, as you bend over to put a pan back into the cupboard.

That’s when you heard the smash, and you quickly stood back up, looking over to see what caused it. On the floor were shards of glass with Casey standing over them, this hand still positioned how it would be if he were holding it and his cheeks tinted a deep pink shade in embarrassment. His eyes were wide in shock, but they weren’t focused on the glass, they were focused on you. ‘Was he checking out my ass?’ you thought as you laughed internally.

“I’m so sorry.” He breathed out, getting to his knees to start picking up the larger pieces. “I’ve just been a little distrac-clumsy, lately.”

He was flustered, a little too much for it to just be about the glass, but you brushed by it and went to get the dustpan and brush to help. You knelt down beside him, placing a hand on his shoulder to calm his flustered state a little. When he looked up and met your eyes, you gave him a small, comforting smile, shrugged and said, “Don’t worry about it, Casey. Things happen.”

Then you both went back to cleaning up the glass, but still he was frustrated with himself for being so klutzy.

“Sorry, I don’t know what’s wrong with me lately. I’m usually more careful than this.” He sounded annoyed.

You chuckled lightly at him. “I know, Matt, and I love you for it, but we all have those days. It’s not a problem.”

You continued to sweep up, but Matt had frozen at your words. You were confused until you replayed them back over in your head, when you realised what you said. Slowly, you lifted your head to face him, his jaw tense and eyes a little hazy.

But before you could explain yourself or make a little joke to ease the tension, you were saved by the bell. And you swear you had never run out of that common room faster.

***

Everything about the call screamed ‘boring’. In fact, you’re pretty sure if a firefighter made a dictionary, a photo of this exact moment would be the definition. You rolled up to the abandoned warehouse and were met with a woman who just so happened to be walking her dog nearby when she spotted smoke rolling out of one of the windows.

It was supposed to be a simple sweep for any homeless who inhabited the building. Truck 81, Engine 51 and Ambo 61 had been called out, so you all stood waiting for orders from your captain after he finished his conversation with the woman, watching the flames licking at the windowsills.

“Mouch, standby with the aerial. Kidd, Gallo, you sweep the top two floors and Y/L/N and I will sweep the bottom two. Let’s go, everyone.” Casey commanded.

You all jogged to the entrance, crouching to pull on your masks and then making your way inside. You and Casey split off from Kidd and Gallo almost immediately, them taking the stairs whilst you two were to sweep the ground floor and basement. Sticking together, you cleared your first floor in mere minutes, ready to tackle the basement.

The wooden stairs leading down were old and creaky, and you got that pit of unease in your stomach. Periodically, you both shouted, “Fire department, call out!”. But you heard no reply.

You both made it to the last room, a fairly small one with no natural light, when the alarms on your SCBA’s started blaring. Clearing your last room, Casey announced, “That’s it, let’s head out.” and radioed in to let the rest of the team know your status.

Only as soon as the radio went dead again, the roof above you collapsed and timber dropped all around you like rain. Casey pulled you to him, shielding you the best he could with his body as the world seemed to crumble before your very eyes.

But a vicious blow to the head was all it took to knock you out.

***

It can’t have been more than a minute before you opened your eyes. At first everything seemed so peaceful. That was until the memories of the last five minutes kicked in. You were laid slumped against a pile of debris, a mask still over your face but it wasn’t your own. You noticed it was attached to an oxygen tank that was placed down beside you.

Casey’s.

You looked around as you pulled off your mask, dust particles attacking your lungs when you took your first breath of something other than pure oxygen. You heard Matt before you saw him, grunting as he attempted to heave a huge wooden beam out of the way of the door. You knew from the size of it that it was never going to happen, which meant so did he, but still he tried with all his might to make it budge.

You shifted to your knees and then your feet, careful that the searing pain through your head didn’t make you drop to the ground once more.

“Casey.” You croaked out, your voice hoarse and your throat dry. He didn’t hear you at first, so you walked closer and grabbed his arm. He spun around, surprised to see you awake and alert.

“Y/N,” He breathed out in disbelief, standing upright and grabbing both of your shoulders. “I thought you were…you were…”

“I’m good, but we both know we can’t get out of here on our own.” You got straight down to business, surveying the area around you to stop yourself getting lost in his eyes, pools of concern and relief. “Have you radioed in?”

“Yeah, everyone else is safe and Squad’s on their way, but I’m not sure they’ll make it in time.” He made you meet his gaze again to make sure you knew what he meant. He then let go of you and started marching around to find any way to escape. “If we were just able to lift this beam with a pole or something…”

“And then what about the other three, each bigger than the last?” You snapped, and immediately felt guilty, but he understood. You were both under an immense amount of stress and the lack of clean air didn’t help.

He didn’t reply, just kept looking around. After a few more seconds of letting him stay hopeful, you sighed. “Matt, it’s no good.”

“No, no, I’m sure-“

“Goddamnit, Matt.” Your voice was firmer, but your eyes adopted something more accepting, more peaceful. “They’ll get us, or we can try again. But let’s at least take a minute to think. Come on.”

You trudged over to the place where you woke up, furthest away from the grasps of the fire that was on the other side of the door. You heard Matt’s footsteps behind you, so you sat down, trying to make yourself as comfortable as possible. Matt sat down beside you, your shoulders touching you were so close, and offered you his hand, palm up. You took it, interlocking your gloved fingers in an effort to comfort both him and yourself.

It felt like the end. Anger and disappointment was bubbling somewhere deep inside you, regrets flooding to the forefront of your mind like a tidal wave. But still, there was some peace in it, and you had accepted your fate. And, as you laid your head on his shoulder, you took pleasure in knowing that you wouldn’t be alone as you went, even though it meant Casey was to go out with you.

Suddenly everything else but you and him seemed so small and unimportant. Like all the worries and obstacles that you were scared to face in loving him dissipated into nothingness. It was literally now or never.

“Sometimes I hate that I love you.” You admitted as he rested his head against yours.

“What?” He hummed quietly.

“I mean it. And I don’t mean love as in friendship. When you smile at me, I get those cliché butterflies that swarm around in your stomach and I can’t make them stop. You make my day, even with a little text to say good morning. And I feel like a lovesick teenager, but I can’t help it. And, trust me, I’ve tried to stop, but it’s no use. All I ever wanted was to become a firefighter, and I’ve achieved that goal, but I come into work and we talk and we laugh and it makes me want to quit my dream job just so I can kiss you goodnight and watch movies on the couch snuggled up together under a blanket. It makes me want to move to a different firehouse, away from the best family I could ever ask for, just so we can be together. You’re a bad influence, Matt Casey, and you don’t even know it, but I love you.” Each word from your mouth sounded like a little laugh in itself, mainly because you couldn’t believe you were finally saying them out loud.

Your little revelation was met with silence, apart from the crackling of the fire on the other side of the door. You dared not move your head you were so comfortable, but you knew that Matt’s face would have been one of confusion, horror or shock. Maybe a mix of the three.

A few more seconds went by before you broke the silence. “We should probably try to find a way out of here. You need to get to Violet’s party this weekend, remember?”

“No, we need to get out of here so I can start a life with you.”

You swear your heart stopped for a second, and it wasn’t for lack of oxygen. You pulled your head away to look at his face because you needed to know you weren’t imagining things. A smile grew outwards from his lips so that his eyes were twinkling, and you saw the hope that resided in them.

So you did what you desired so strongly to do every time you saw that smile. You leaned forward, connecting your lips with his and bringing your free hand up to hold his cheek in your palm, smiling into the kiss like he did. His hand found your waist, guiding you down to straddle his lap and continuing the kiss with so much fervour that soon you were both out of breath.

You pulled back, not wanting to but needing to, just far enough so your lips were no longer molded together but so you could rest your forehead on his. You sighed in happiness, eyes closed, enjoying the moment.

“If we’re gonna be able to do that again, we have to get out of here.” You whispered, and he mumbled his agreeance before you both stood up.

You looked around, grabbing your halligan which had long since been thrown on the floor. Something grew inside of you, and you weren’t sure if it was hope or love, but it urged you to push forward. You weren’t going to lose this opportunity without fighting for it first. Then you had an idea. Matt was watching you now so he saw when you swing your tool over your head to chip away at the very top of the wall. It was a long shot, but he admired your optimism and so joined you.

Both of you hacked away at the concrete and then brick, and suddenly there was an ever so small patch of sunlight streaming in through the hole. You turned your head to look at Matt and found him with the same ecstatic expression you had on your face before you both laughed with joy in celebration. You swung and you swung whilst Casey radioed in what you were doing, telling those on the outside to bring a ladder round before helping you once again.

And you did it. You made a hole just big enough so that you could both squeeze through, and you knew you didn’t have long before the flames engulfed the room you were in, seeing as they were flickering under the door right now, setting the timber that blocked it alight.

Then you heard shouts and the clanging of the metal ladder falling through the gap. You climbed out first, followed close behind by Casey, and then you and all of your family rejoiced, jumping around and hugging and crying in sheer glee. Finally, you found yourself in Casey’s arms once more, holding each other, kissing each other, telling each other without words how you were never letting go, never leaving the other’s side for as long as you both shall live.

#chicago fire #chicago fire fic #matt casey #matt casey imagine #matt casey x reader #matt casey fluff #matthew casey #matthew casey imagine #matthew casey x reader

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plus-size-reader · 4 years

Text

Goodwill

Matt Murdock x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 1135 words

Warnings: none

Summary: Matt having Karen over for the night and having to explain her being there to his girlfriend, the reader.

——————————————————————————————————

Both Matt and Foggy should have known that bringing Karen home wasn’t going to be the best idea.

There was no way to be sure who was after her yet, or what they were going to do, but that wasn’t the main reason. The main reason, of course, was you.

Matt no longer lived alone since you had moved in with him, and he had yet to tell you about her. He had no idea how you would react to a stranger staying the night, and he didn’t want to upset you.

However, it wasn’t like they had much of a choice.

Karen’s life was in danger and she couldn’t go back to her place. Besides, at this hour, you would likely already be in bed. If he had to, Matt could explain her being there in the morning.

“It’s really dark in here”

It was nothing more than a slight comment, but for Matt, it told him everything that he needed to know.

Every concern that he’d had about having to tell you the whole story eased away when he opened the apartment door to find all the lights off.

When he was living alone, they had always stayed that way but as soon as you moved in, that changed.

It didn’t bother him usually but right now, it was just what he needed.

“Yeah, I don’t really keep the lights on” he shrugged, trying to keep his voice to a whisper. If you were asleep in the next room, he didn’t want to be the one to wake you up.

That would be one hell of a wake up call.

However, he didn’t have to worry about that, because when you weren’t asleep like he’d originally thought. Matt could hear your heartbeat in the darkness, and he could smell your body wash, fresh from the shower.

You had been waiting up in bed for him to come home, like you usually did. Though, you usually didn’t have to wait this late for Matt to check in with you so that you didn’t worry.

Hell’s Kitchen was getting more and more dangerous these days and you didn’t want him to get robbed or beat down in the street. You just couldn’t go to bed until you knew he was alright.

“You’re home late” you hummed, leaning against the door-frame with your hip.

There was nothing accusatory or upset in your tone, and there wasn’t going to be. After all, you had no idea what kind of day Matt's had, and you weren’t about to ask.

At least, not right now.

Instead, you turned your attention to the woman on the couch.

You had never seen her before, due to Matt having very few friends aside from Foggy, but you didn’t mind. More than anything, you were just curious as to what she was doing here at this hour. Right now though, you just had to trust that Matt would fill you in, when the time came.

“Hi, I’m Y/N...Matt’s girlfriend” you allowed, crossing the room to reach out your hand to her. It was just an introduction, one that you didn’t think anything of, but she hesitated nonetheless.

“Karen”

She was skittish, and didn’t take the hand you had offered but you took no offense. Rather, you sat down across from her and decided to get comfortable.

There was too much excitement going on right now to just go to bed.

“Karen is a client, she’s going to stay here with us for the night” Matt filled in, talking carefully and lightly, hoping that you weren’t upset with him.

Usually if you were going to be having overnight guests, Matt would check with you first but he didn’t have that luxury at that moment.

Though he should have known better than to think you would be cross about it.

He should have known that there was nothing regarding what Matt did that really upset you. He did what he had to do and he never once lied to you or treated you poorly.

You knew that you could trust him and if he said that Karen needed to stay here, then she could stay here for as long as she needed.

Matt loved you and you loved him, you went off of that and didn’t question much else. Perhaps he didn’t know it, but Matthew was a terrible liar.

“Alright, she can sleep in the bed. I’ll take the loveseat and you can lay on the couch” you suggested, getting up from the chair with zest, set on getting blankets and things.

The entire conversation was over before it had really begun but not one of you even minded. After all, it was far too late to fuss about details.

That could wait until morning.

Whatever it was that was going on, you trusted that Matt was going to get it figured out.

You had to have faith in that.

“It was nice of you to let her stay” you started, your voice nothing more than a whisper in the darkness of your living room. At least, darkness with your eyes closed.

If you happened to open them, you would have likely been blinded by that damned billboard.

You weren’t sure if Matt would want to talk about what he’d been through today or how Karen fit into it. However, this was your chance to clear the air, just the two of you.

Karen was hidden away in your bedroom, and you could talk freely without worrying about her.

“I’m sorry, I should have checked with you before bringing her here” Matt replied, sitting up slightly on the couch, his blanket pooling around his waist.

It was rather warm this time of year so the blanket wasn’t really a necessity anyway. It was really just serving to comfort him away from his bed. Usually, he slept cuddled up to you.

Even still, this was where you lived too, and it would have been good of him to check with you. This was your home together and you should have never been ambushed in your own home.

However, you didn’t seem to mind, even if maybe you should have.

“Don’t worry about it, I don’t mind” you assured, turning slightly in the chair to face his direction. Even if Matt couldn’t see you, you often found yourself admiring him.

You just couldn’t help it.

In all the time that you had known him, Matt had completely mesmerized you and he always would.

“Thank you Y/N, she really just needed the help” Matt hummed, shrugging off any sort of hesitation or guilt he’d had before. You were incredible human beings and he shouldn’t have been shocked by your goodwill.

It was one of the reasons he’d fallen for you in the first place.

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theskyexists · 3 years

Text

thingy DOESN’T believe that synths will kill their human creators?? thats pure bullshit. of COURSE synths will kill humans in teh future if they attain consciousness that is LIKE that of humans.

also there’s no fucking way this premise makes sense bc the military would have gotten their hands on synths the moment they became capable of holding a gun and hitting shit with accuracy and walking securely through multiple terrains. never fucking mind asimov blocks

the next episode immediately goes back into also blaming mum hahahahaa. i mean it makes sense for the kids but narratively it’s quite....interesting. though ofc matts is right and Laura should deal with whatever hurt Tom is. in fact, that explains the way she’s so....bruised

‘yeah we care about her - how can you not get that’

FINALLY. toby truly lays down the law for his father!

I LOVE old american guy giving Niska lessons in humanity! YAY for the elderly!!

I LOVE OLD AMERICAN GUY NOW!!! HE’S NISKA’S DAD NOW!!!!!!

jezus. david elster was a fucking creep (niska) and a total shithead (fred). turns out that their creator was a terrible dad. this explains much about leo also.

wow Matts you’re being a little insensitive to your mother who’s divulging a SHITLOAD of childhood trauma. but i guess that’s just relating this stuff to what she knows. ok she - oh that’s so - aw

does Matilda REALISE that Max is just like Mia???? anyway - i LOVE MAX SO MUCH AAAAGGHGHGHGHGH.

she does

I love it when Max speaks and Leo is quiet for once. just keep him knocked out!!

oh no toby now you’re going too far. i am deeply concerned that the two men in this show will radicalise into synth-killers

ALL THIS TIME I ALSO THOUGHT SHE WAS HIS GIRLFRIEND BUT SHE WAS HIS MUM : ‘’‘‘‘(((( oh Nooooooo. it was already sad and tragic but now it’s 50x times more

has this synth-policewoman fallen in love with Pete?

‘you look young generally’ OH PETE lol. that made me like you again

DOES HUSBAND ACTUALLY MAKE THE FATAL CALL??? they’re really making him a villain!!!

it IS a trap huh...

SHE REVEALS HERSELF RIGHT AFTER SEX AND A DECLARATION OF LOVE. SHE’S SO CUTE AAAAA

but this was so stupid aahadhladsflajsdf. he’s much less than you think of him!!!

oh no now leo and max think it was the family that betrayed them!

why would he jump over when he could have used himself as a hostage

(had to look up whether he really dies just to be sure)

did they just expel a sister????

oh god

laura is such a pushover! what about Mia’s feelings?? she just heard that Mia had been inside Anita all along! then bring in the man that....well...it’s not rape in the moral....sense....but in the emotional sense it kinda was

she didn’t practice trigger safety??? POLICE SYNTH WOMAN?? i guess she really is a cop

i knew american dad was dead the moment Niska and he bonded. i love this series! that sounded like sarcasm but i mean that i love the characters and the story.

NOT GEORGE!!! NOT GEORGE!!!! im actually crying

ah - Fred is leo’s BIG brother

‘I was there the whole time’ OH DAMMNNN MIA!!!! balaghglabalghghagh stop

Laura and Mia are becomign real friends!!!!!!!!!!!

Matty didn’t MAKE leo show her. lol.

FRED YOU’RE NOT CLEAN!!!!! he implanted something!!!! or....is fred aligned with him after all? has he been infected somehow?

at least Mia is trying to keep things together.

they are making Joe suffer for his stupidity. not very cathartic tho

Mia desperately tryin to stitch the whole human fam back together. LOL

oh that’s poor timing. Niska you damn zealot

why does Kate keep making the wrong decisions. stupid bastard

teh opening theme is great!

DID LAURA THE LAWYER JUST GIVE UP HER PHONE?? ARE THE COPS ALLOWED TO DO THAT

Joe up for redemption!

OH SO HOBB IS ACTUALLY WORSE THAN WHAT HE SEEMED. OH MY GOD!!!!!!!!!!! MAKE THE SLAVES CONSCIOUS AND KEEP THEM SLAVES!!!!!!

kill this man now.

KILL HOB! KILL HIM!!!! NARRATIVE KILL HIM!!!! they really baited the audience with Hobb possibly being more sympathetic than it seemed. NO HE”S ACTUALLY MORE EVIL THAN YOU THINK!!!!!!!!!!

Kate’s so stupid. I hope she gets to be a hero

Pete’s up for redemption!

Come ON Kate!!!!!!!!! jezus was living the life of a simple cop and finally sleeping with the guy you love really SO BAD? they’ve had a worse life on the run than Kate

oh her name is KAREN??? lol i thought it was kate.

why would Hobb be concerned about it becoming clear that these synths have feelings and shit. wouldn’t that help with the marketing? i mean it is a risk what with Niska having killed a man

he’s letting them go entirely?? he knows he’s got Fred so he’s like - eh, ill just lean on this family first

does Karen understand the implications of Hobb having a failsafe?? will she TRULY do anything to stop suffering from proliferating - because this TRULY will cause suffering

I guess fred has been instructed not to kill himself - or reveal himself.

TOBY YOU GOTTA REALISE - Help Fred tell the rest. oh god i dont want to lose fred....wait where’s max. i didn’t see anybody carrying him around. also - wasn’t his brain falling apart?wasn’t that time-sensitive? aren’t they GRIEVING?

Lol - why would they not have made copies? They should have told him- if you bother us again we transmit to the internet immediately. they could do that easily!

Oh max can walk again

these fringes are so BRITISH AHAahaah

Karen is a total wildcard. only Pete being in danger will help though i think

Joe doing a very last Bastard Husband thing by being offended that his wife didn’t reveal her horrible childhood trauma to him as some kind of insult to HIM

AAAAAAAAAAGHHHHHHHHH JOE WHY

‘you didn’t want to hurt us’? what

‘i can’t do anything’ - uh you can bring Mia and Max back to life but you can’t free Fred??? FRED!!!!!!!!???

FUCK! the next goal in this whole series is to free FRED!!!!!!!!!!

why the fuck would Niska walk in heels

couldn’t they restore fred the same way as they’re gonna try and restore max????

why doesn’t he tell Karen about how Hobb has enslaved Fred??? hello? and wants to use the code?? this last bit is a bit strange. what convinced her?

she’s an ideological character but she was moved by emotion?

oh they canjust share - no wires or anything

Karen realised she couldn’t rely on Hobb to kill them - so she went out alone to kill them. aha.

what. that was. out of nowhere

why the fuck did she go from ultimate KILL YOU ALL to - alright then let’s do this in one second. how extremely poorly written or directed or both

what?

she wanted to be part of the fam. then she left. the laura tells leo to let her go. whY?? this last bit is so STUPID

all they need is some coloured lenses and they can fit right in. just GET SOME COLOURED LENSES LOL

i know they trust laura now but like - the program is on a harddrive in her hands - but Hobb knows she’s associated with them. WHY would you put it in her hands. They know what hobb can do with it.

isn’t leo ever gonna say soryy for leaving his adult/9yearold sister in a brothel?

sophie woke up at an opportune moment

leave an android in the corner of a USED church....THEY SHOULD BURY HIM SOMEWHERE. THAT’S BETTER THAN BEING A GODDAMN SLAVE

PETE TOOK OFF HIS GLASSES TO LOOK YOUNGER FOR KAREN AHAHAHAHA

it’s funny - the synths can’t cry but their eyes sure can glisten.....

HOBB JUST LEFT THE FAMILY ALONE AFTER THAT???? WHAT LOL. he knows what Karen is and. ok this last episode was a mess. but everything that came before was great. and the theme is also great

the character stuff in this is great. well. not this episode bc like. WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT ?? THAT RECONCILIATION WITH JOE WAS SO FUCKING WEIRD. HE FOCUSED ON HIMSELF AND THEN -- she didn’t want to hurt the fam? what??? what the fuck are you on about ???

anway things did not at all come together.

#my stuff #vidi #humans #should i watch on???#is season 2 any good???#this last episode does not spell a good basis

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dammitadolfnomorecake · 4 years

Text

Once Bitten, Twice Stupid prt 94

Lance had fled. The cow crapped in his living room and that was that. He’d made it very clear Matt and Rieva were to scrub the floor clean or they wouldn’t be joining them all for dinner. Pidge and Hunk had a few things to finish up as it was, provided they’d get over the hilarity of Matt and Rieva gifting him a stolen cow. Naturally Hunk didn’t find the cow theft itself funny, only the absurdity and randomness of their now being a cow in the house... which was kind of funny, because no normal person would “relocate” a cow.

The rest of his presents had been marginally better. Rieva proved to be an okay gift giver if you didn’t think about the cow. She’d gifted him non-relocated plants, herbs for his garden and cat grass for Blue. Clearly her idea and not Matt’s who’d given him a “voucher” to join them in bed if his heats got too much. He’s tried to throw it out, but Matt rescued it for “safe keeping because you never knew”. Hunk normally gifted him garlic knots and cookies, a standard and tasty gift, that didn’t happen this year now that Hunk knew he was a vampire. His poor ray of sunshine gifting him a voucher to a department store in Platt, seeming guilty over not knowing what to give him. Lance didn’t mind. It was a practical gift, and lately Rieva and Matt had been wearing off on him. His bed turning into a mound of blankets and cushions, Rieva teasing him about nesting. He didn’t know what nesting was, only that he felt safe in his mounded up bed and seeing it was his house, he could do as he pleased. Pidge declared herself the best gift giver ever. He loved his gremlin, but could only groan at her present. She’d brought him a “vampire hunting kit” online. She was so proud of herself, thinking it hilarious. Lance did not. Trust pop culture to get a hunting kit wrong. There was some major eye rolling at the polished wooden stake in the box... God only knew what was in the enclosed vials that came with the kit, probably dye and water... though the crucifixes were pretty, so that was nice.

Lance didn’t think about the next predicament of what to do now that’d arrived in Platt so early. Dinner wouldn’t be until 6:30pm, so he’d head over to the nursing home around 5pm to spend some quality time with his Mami. It was a little after 11am now, meaning he couldn’t head to VOLTRON given they’d all be getting ready for the mission and he’d be underfoot. That didn’t stop him from parking in front of the bookshop out of habit. With three spare hours, he wanted to see Keith so badly it hurt. Pulling out his phone, he nearly screamed when someone tapped on his window, Krolia all smiles as if she hadn’t taken 10 years off his undead life.

Rolling the window down, Lance wasn’t sure what to say to her. All plans to get her and Keith on the same page hadn’t eventuated. His boyfriend struggling so hard with figuring out how to feel about his mother. It sucked. Lance wanted to take all that pain away, but the only one who could do that was Krolia herself

“Keith hasn’t come in yet, if you’re looking for him”

No. His boyfriend was probably still at his apartment but Lance didn’t want to park up out the front and make a scene

“I was going to give him a call... see if he wanted to get lunch or something before the mission”

“So he told you? Oh... that’s right, it’s your birthday today... Why don’t I take you to lunch, my treat”

Ummm... what?

“You don’t have to go out of your way...”

Lunch with Krolia didn’t seem safe... He didn’t want to step on Keith’s toes, or meet with Krolia behind his back

“Nonsense. It’s no trouble at all”

“I should let Keith know...”

“He’s the reason I thought we should talk. I don’t want to make things complicated between you... but he won’t listen to me. I just want to know how my son is doing”

Lance knew he was fucked. His fierce love for his Mami, and his family, made it impossible to say no. If he was estranged from his Mami, he could picture her asking his friends about him

“You know I can’t say no to that”

Krolia did. Her smile hadn’t wavered at all

“Excellent. I’ll let you choose the place, you know this city better than I do”

Please lord don’t let him be murdered for this... by Keith or Krolia... maybe Krolia... yeah, he’d rather be murdered than cause a misunderstanding between him and Keith. Fuck. His Mami always told him to be polite... and his Mami had hit it off with Krolia...

“Jump in. I think I know a place”

Lance was still quietly hoping for murder as he and Krolia sat inside the dimly lit pub. It was the same place they’d come as a group after the others had learned his secret. The pub itself wasn’t that poorly lit, but he’d tried to pick somewhere kind of unnoticeable from the door. Sitting on one side of the booth, Krolia slid herself in on the other side, picking up the menu

“You look tense. Don’t worry about Keith”

He was pretty sure worrying about Keith was now a default setting, right up there with over thinking

“How can I not? I feel wrong meeting with you when he’s still trying work out his feelings”

“You care about him a lot, don’t you?”

Lance supposed it wasn’t as obvious to Krolia... in fact, she probably thought it was weird

“Very much. That’s why... I don’t want to get between the two of you”

“Keith has made it clear that he doesn’t want to know me”

What kind of crap was that?! Keith was dying to connect with Krolia

“That’s not true”

“Let’s go ahead and order. Do you... eat?”

“I can and I do”

“Excellent. Now, what’s deep fried and covered in grease?”

Lance ordered a salad, with a nonexistent appetite, it was something he could pick at. Krolia ordering a steak burger so raw the meat reminded him of his new cow... that wasn’t his cow and he was in no way attached to. Her plate loaded with fries, and her drink of choice a chocolate milkshake. Not what he expected

“Do you want a fry? You’re staring”

He didn’t mean to stare. No one told him that his birthday was going to take this unexpected turn

“I’m fine, thanks...”

“Then loosen up. You might be a stiff but don’t tell me you have a stiff sense of humour?”

“My sense of humour is fine. I’m just not sure what I’m doing here”

“I want to get to know the man my son’s dating”

“If you want me to break up with Keith, that’s his choice to make”

Krolia dipped a fry in her milkshake, sending drops flying as she shook it

“Whoa. Hold up. Okay. No. Keith is well and truly able to make his own choices... I’m making a mess of this”

He couldn’t talk to Krolia like she was a regular person. The Blades were all weird. He needed to remember Keith’s initial social weirdness and work around it

“No... no. I’m being cranky. I feel like I’m breaking Keith’s trust and it’s not a great a feeling. Your son... he’s amazing. He really is. He’s so smart and funny. He’s complicated and awkward, but he’s so... You’re missing out. He wants to know you, but he’s scared of being alone. He gets scared when he feels out of control and lashes out. Thinking that it’s better to push everyone away before they get to see how much he’s hurting. He gets lonely really easily. And he’s so sweet. Even if our first date was a bit weird, he’s always trying his best”

Lance gushed. Word vomit came easy when he thought of all the ways that made his boyfriend made him happy. Keith wasn’t a perfect human, he had many flaws, like his failure to work without coffee, but Lance wasn’t perfect either. That was the thing about love though. They both knew they weren’t perfect but together they were muddling through it, while working on themselves as they did

“Do you want to see something?”

Lance had no idea where that question was going

“Okay?”

Pulling out her wallet, Krolia passed it over. Lance taking the silent hint to open it. Finding a well worn piece of paper in the back, his fingers shook as he pulled his out. A happy family staring back at him. Krolia, so in love with her partner, a mother’s smile on her lips at Keith, bundled in his father’s arms

“We don’t keep a lot of personal items being Blade members. The newer generation does, but we’re all prepared to die. Every mission I’ve been on, that photos waited for me to come home to. Giving them up broke my heart. It took everything I had not to go back. I really thought Keith would have a better life if I wasn’t there”

“Have you shown him this?”

“No. He wouldn’t listen if I tried”

“Then you need to keep trying”

“Maybe...”

Whatever Krolia was thinking was wrong

“My family isn’t happy. I know what it’s like to have distance and it fucking sucks. Keith... he always feels like no one sees him as anyone other than your son or Shiro’s little brother. He wants... he wants to be accepted how he is and who he is. Krolia, he’s such a good man. He really is. I always kept a distance. I never ever thought something like me could have the love of someone as amazing as him. He wants to know about you. About his dad. What you like. How you became a Blade member. He wants to be closer to you. I shouldn’t be saying any of this because I don’t want to be in the middle of it, but I will always, always be on his side. I can’t forgive you if you hurt him. I can’t. I can’t even cope with him liking me because he’s just... he’s just Keith and he’s amazing how he is”

“I don’t know how to tell him. He was so cute as a child. He had this purple hippopotamus that he’d carry everywhere. His father couldn’t send me updates on him, but... He was the sweetest little thing. He loved that hippo so much. He loved riding on his dads shoulders... he... he was so cheeky, so happy... he’d probably hate the memory if he knew that hippo came from me. You know, his dad named him. I wanted to call him Yorak, but he wouldn’t have it. And I wouldn’t have Keith any other way”

Keith wouldn’t hate the memory. Any memory Krolia could share with him was a memory Keith had lost along the way. Krolia really did love Keith

“I know it’s old and cliche, but if you can’t find the words write them down. And this photo, this photo would bring him so much comfort. He doesn’t talk about it, but I know he’s lost most of the memories of his dad”

Krolia went silent for a bit. Lance had really meddled too much. He’d said more than he wanted to, and this meeting really was hurting his heart because he felt so guilty that Keith didn’t know about it

“Maybe”

Her reply didn’t give him much

“Can I call Keith? I really don’t feel comfortable”

“Yeah. I only really wanted a chance to meet you alone to see what you thought of Keith and if you were serious with dating him. He’s precious to me. Leaving him has broken me like nothing else ever has. Anything else is a bonus. I’m glad my son has someone who sees him... even if you’re old enough to be his father”

“Don’t remind me. I have no idea what he sees in me”

He was dead. Old. Grumpy and didn’t like crowds... he didn’t have much to offer

“I think I have some idea”

Shiro answered Keith’s phone, explaining that Keith was busy. Quickly Lance unloaded on him that he was at lunch with Krolia and wanted Keith to know so there wouldn’t be a misunderstanding. Shiro sounded surprised, then understandably nervous about telling Keith.

Half an hour passed before Curtis, Shiro, and Keith arrived at the pub. Keith ready to explode into a fit of rage

“What the hell?!? What do you think you’re doing?!”

Lance flinched. Yep. This was why he was scared of...

“I’m sorry...”

Huffily, Keith crossed his arms. Lance unable to look at him. He’d known this was wrong. He felt physically sick...

“I wasn’t talking to you. I know this had to be mum’s idea”

Krolia defending him had Lance sliding down in his chair

“Don’t be mad at him. The whole time he was here he wanted to call you”

“Maybe he should have done that to begin with, or maybe you shouldn’t have kidnapped my fucking boyfriend”

“Babe...”

“No. I know you would have agreed because you’re too nice. I’ve been stressing all morning and now you’re having lunch with her”

Lance didn’t mean to turn on the waterworks. Keith was lashing out and every comment felt like a hit to the gut. All he’d really wanted was a nice simple day with Keith on his birthday

“Keith, I think that’s enough”

Placing his hand on Keith’s shoulder, Shiro seemed to know how Lance felt. He knew that Lance didn’t want to be here and how much it hurt to feel like he was betraying Keith

“I’m sorry... I know. I know. I didn’t want to be in the middle of you and your mum. I know I fucked up”

Sliding out the booth, Lance blindly pulled all the bills out his wallet, leaving them on the table before slipping past Keith. This was another bad birthday in a long line

“Lance”

Keith called his name softly, Lance looking at his boyfriend through a fresh wave of tears

“I’m sorry... I’m so sorry I hurt you”

Once again he was fleeing... with absolutely no place to go other than to his Mami because he’d really done it this time.

Keith knew he was acting out. He knew and the words still came out. What was his mother thinking taking Lance to lunch like this?!

“This is the part where you’re supposed to go after him. He only met with me because I wanted to talk about you, and get to know him better”

“You had no right”

Yeah. Keith knew this. Lance couldn’t say no because he had a stupidly big heart. That’s what made him such an idiot crumpet. His boyfriend was trying to let them work this out for himself but Keith couldn’t.

Pushing her empty plate towards Lance’s barely poked at salad, Krolia twisted to face him properly

“What am I supposed to do when you keep shutting me out? I want to be in your life. I want to learn about you from you. I thought maybe we could have a nice lunch and talk. That’s all. That man seriously loves you. He said repeatedly he didn’t want to meddle and you should have heard how he talked about you. You need to go after him and apologise”

Like his mother would be the first one he’d listen too about relationship advice. He already knew he had to apologise. He didn’t need her telling him

“What would you know?”

“Because I know how devastating it is to miss your opportunity!”

Keith didn’t know what to say to that. Shiro’s hand was digging into his shoulder now. They all had regrets. Things said and left unsaid... He shouldn’t have blown up at Lance. He knew he shouldn’t have. Triply so on his boyfriend’s birthday

“I don’t know where he could have gone”

“He was parked in front of VOLTRON when I ran into him”

Keith shook his head at his mother

“Lance knows we have a mission today and wouldn’t want to be in the way”

“Where else would he go?”

“I talked to Pidge before and he wouldn’t be going back to Platt. Rieva and Matt stole a cow and Lance wasn’t happy at all over it”

So his boyfriend was already having a bad birthday before Keith made it worse

“Perhaps he went to Miriam? If he knew he couldn’t see Allura or Coran at the moment?”

Curtis was a genius. Lance had to be headed to see his Mami

“Shiro, I need your keys”

“I don’t know if I should let you drive...”

“Give me your keys or your collectables get tossed”

Shiro’s eyes went wide as he pulled away

“You wouldn’t. Not my limited collectables...”

Fuck the stupid things. He had to apologise for being a douche canoe

“I would for Lance. I need to... I need to see him”

Shiro pulled his keys out, passing them over

“Don’t forget you need to be at VOLTRON at one”

“I’ll be there”

As Shiro passed his keys over, his mother cheered him on

“Go get your man!”

Keith felt awkward about visiting the nursing home without Lance beside him. The staff kind of recognising that he’d been there, so all it took was a quick explanation before he was signed in and shown through to the garden area where Lance was cuddles up with his mother. This felt like a terrible idea on his behalf. Lance probably never wanted to talk to him again. He was so fucking good at ruining things. Stuffing his hands in his pockets, Keith slowly walked over to the pair. Miriam holding Lance as Lance cried softly against her shoulder. Shit. What if Miriam hated him for making Lance cry? He hated him for making his boyfriend cry.

“Mijo, you have a visitor”

Miriam offered him something that wasn’t a smile, nor was it a frown. All Keith could describe it as was a “mum look”. Yeah. He’d fucked up, and she knew that he knew, and he knew she knew and now he was expected to do something about it

“Babe...”

Lance clung to his mother. Miriam sighing at him

“Mijo, you can’t ignore Keith”

“He wants to break up because I hurt him”

Miriam glanced at him around Lance

“That’s the clearest he’s been since he showed up. Would you like to explain what happened?”

Keith sighed. He really wanted to sit on the other side of Lance and cuddle him until he calmed down

“My psychotic mother kidnapped him for lunch and he was too nice to say no”

“Lunch sounds like a lovely idea”

Was Miriam messing with him, or did she think he and Krolia were suddenly going to besties

“It would be if it wasn’t my mother’s attempt at meddling”

Miriam smile fondly, moving her hand to pat the spot behind Lance

“It’s a mother’s job to meddle within reason...”

That was Miriam meddling. Sitting on the edge of the bench, Keith’s stomach was a pit of nerves as he rested his forehead against Lance’s shoulder, hand moving to rest just past Lance’s elbow

“I deserved to be punched in the dick”

Lance sniffled loudly, hiccuping as he wrestled his tears under control

“I don’t want to be in the middle. I want you two to work it out together. I know it was wrong... but she wanted to know if you’re okay... and I got to see a photo of your dad... she really fucking loves you and I don’t want to pressure you... and I don’t want you to keep fighting. I want you to be happy. Stupid Matt and Stupid Rieva stole a cow. Pidge dressed as a vampire. Hunk didn’t give me food because he thinks I don’t like eating normal food. You’ve got a mission. Our whole night was changed. And you were so mad at me”

That was a lot of “ands”. Lance didn’t seem to be having a good day at all, or everything he’d been trying to laugh off he couldn’t cope with now Keith had messed up. He was mad. Mad. Scared. Confused. Hurt. Betrayed. And a dozen different words that made his heart race at the sight of them together at the pub

“I was... am... I just don’t see why you’d go out to lunch with her, or why you didn’t tell me sooner. You can’t let her bully you”

Smooth. Real. Fucking. Smooth. Maybe he could go on his mission and just not return? Perhaps the ground would swallow him whole so stopped being such a dick?

Lance placed his hand over Keith’s, still talking at mami’s chest rather than Keith

“But she’s your mum. I... I want to know more about you and her. I’m 19 years older than you. I’m not cool, or hip, or rad, or whatever the word is these days... I know you hate having to talk everything out... and I know you both are awkward as hell... but you’re hurting and I hate it”

“That’s not your pain, babe”

“It is because it’s yours. I want to be the one you lean on, not the one you feel you have to keep secrets from. I know it’s hard for you, and I felt so rotten that I couldn’t tell you before we talked”

“I’m the one who overreacted. I know you’ve got a good heart and I shouldn’t have snapped. It really hurt seeing you able to talk with her”

“I could barely say anything right. Please don’t be mad. I told her if she can’t find the right words to say to write them down. It doesn’t make up for her leaving, and what she says isn’t my business. I’m not trying to force you to talk her. You’ve got to move at your own pace and be ready when you do”

Keith knew that. He knew Lance respected him enough to handle this on his own and that his boyfriend only wanted what was best for him. It was a little early, but he really wanted some time with Lance before the mission

“Mami, do you mind if I borrow Lance?”

“Heaven’s no. You two make up properly or neither of you get dessert tonight. I must say I’m looking forward to dinner”

“I hope you don’t mind. When I organised it, it was supposed to be just the three of us”

“Lance isn’t very good at handling his birthday... or his friends. Don’t worry about me, as long as you two work this out”

“We will. I’m sorry I upset him”

“Couples fight. Making up is the fun bit”

Lance snorted wetly, Keith didn’t know what kind of face to make when Mami was hinting at sex so openly

“Mami!”

“Go have a good time with your boyfriend. I’m very proud of you, Mijo. Happy birthday, my precious little boy”

“Mami, I’m 45”

“And you’ll always be my precious little boy. Go on. I’m sure you’ll have a wonderful time with Keith”

Lance seemed lost as they walked back to where they’d parked, Keith finding a spot across from Lance. Almost shyly he asked

“What do you want to do?”

His boyfriend was too cute

“I’ve got the hotel key... I know it’s early, but I’ve still got time before the mission. It’s your birthday, and I really want to spend some time with you”

“You haven’t even said it”

“That’s because I’m waiting until we’re at the hotel. You want to lead and I’ll follow? You’re probably better at finding this place again...”

A smile finally crept across Lance’s lips

“You do have a habit of getting lost”

“Directionally misplaced. Get your phone out and I’ll send you the address”

“Sounds good... babe... I really am sorry”

Keith couldn’t not hold his boyfriend. Wrapping his arms around Lance, he melted into the hold

“I’m sorry too. There’s no excuse for how I acted”

“I get it... I’ll see you soon?”

“Yeah, babe”

#once bitten twice stupid #oncebittentwicestupid

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bastillewolf · 4 years

Text

Midnight In Sheffield (III)

Pairing: Alex Turner/Reader

Summary: When a soon-to-be-wedded insomniac author heads back home to visit her parents, she comes across the likes of a mysterious musician whilst on her sleepless escapade in the AM.

Notes: Took a bit longer to edit this chapter, and made it longer. Hope you enjoy!

Let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list!

@alexbandguy86 @bettyschwallocksyee @fookingsummertime @juicebox-baby@darksydork7 @edgythought @toolateformcrtooearlytoleaveemo

Song recommendation: ‘Bistro Fada’ by Stephane Wrembel

Chapter III - No. 1 Party Anthem

It couldn’t be.

Surely, she hadn’t been that drunk.

If so, she would’ve felt more than embarrassed.

She was standing in the very street she had wandered through the night before, yet nothing seemed familiar. There were no vintage sales, or shops for that matter, or Ford Roadsters that were illuminated by the antique streetlights perched on cobblestone roads.

Instead, she was faced with boring old Sheffield; cracked and bruised asphalt. A few clothing stores and a newspaper office. There was one pub, but not the one she’d been looking for.

“Are you alright? You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Mark said.

“I- Uh, yeah. I could’ve- I could’ve sworn it was here,” she stuttered in response.

“The pub you went to?”

She nodded silently.

“Maybe you went in a different direction. You were tired, happens to the best of us.”

She shot him a look. “I grew up here, Mark. I know my way around this place like the back of my hand, yet that street I went into… I’d never seen it before in my entire life.”

“Hm, strange,” he noted. She knew he was mostly humouring her, and couldn’t shake off the feeling he had been judging her ever since they talked over what happened. It must look crazy, she realized, but to her that was no excuse to not be understanding. He was to be her husband, after all, and weren’t those things most important in a healthy relationship?

“Call me crazy if you want, but I’m telling you; I went to a different pub last night.”

“I know, I believe you.”

She gave a slight sigh of relief.

“Now, come on, let’s go find a restaurant, because we’re not going to that pub on an empty stomach.”

They had searched all over town, with Mark generously tipping the cabby to take them everywhere they wanted. Not necessarily an odd request, but when she started to ask the driver about an old pub with the exact descriptions, - not failing to mention that smoking had been allowed - he gave her a strange look and told her he’d never heard of such a place before.

He must know, as he’d worked as a cabby for ages.

And so, she was currently sat at a random local bar Mark picked out, slumped in her seat, while her fiancée chatted on with Rachel and James. She couldn’t even bring herself to be annoyed with the pair, her mind too clouded to think of anything other than that very clear night.

She touched Mark’s shoulder, and muttered in his ear that she was going back to the hotel.

He nodded, “I’ll text you when I’m coming back. Don’t stay up too late.”

She smiled lightly, and kissed him on the cheek, before slipping out of the door, and leaving the musky scene behind her.

She didn’t really pay attention to where she was going. She was staring down at her feet, which kept their leisure pace on the tiled sidewalk.

She didn’t even bother giving the man in a tracksuit she nearly bumped into a second glance, or the dog that barked at her.

She walked up the few steps, through an alley, until she rounded a corner and was back at what appeared to be the main street. Only then did she actually bump into someone.

“You just keep appearing out of nowhere, don’t you?”

“Miles?”

She rubbed her tired eyes, until the flickering had disappeared, and she could look around again.

A cobblestone street, antique metal streetlights and shop windows filled with antique wear. The man that stood in front of her wore the same suit as yesterday, but without the tie and the top buttons of his shirt undone.

She couldn’t help but throw her arms around his neck in relief.

He huffed in surprise, “Good to see you again too, love. Hope that man of yours hasn’t been treating you poorly again, has he?”

“I’m just relieved to see you again,” she replied, avoiding his question, “I can’t believe I didn’t find this street earlier this afternoon! I went looking all over the place for it! Even asked a cabby, but he didn’t know what I was talking about. I’m so glad I found you.”

A mysterious glint flashed across his eyes. “Look for me, did ya? Worry not, love. You can always find me prancing about in the AM. I’ll most likely still be in bed in the afternoons. Best stay away from me then.”

She snorted as he linked her arm with hers and followed his lead into the pub, missing the way he’d given her a worried glance as she tried to memorize the name of the residence, which was painted in a neat cursive on the sign above it.

Mardy Bum.

“Taken that bird with you again, Miles?” Alex asked from his seat at the wooden table, his foot sliding a chair out for each of them from underneath the table.

“Couldn’t help myself, Al. I just keep running into her. It’s like fate.”

“Call it fate or whatever you want, mate, but there’s no hiding you’ve always fancied the married girls.”

“Sorry, could you repeat that for me?” Miles held a hand to his ear facetiously. “I couldn’t hear you over the tune of ‘The Bad Thing’.”

Alex rolled his eyes. “Are you playing cards with us, or what?”

Miles looked back at her, waiting for her answer. She shrugged, “As long as it’s not strip poker.”

“Shame,” one of the other men at the table muttered, who she recognized from the previous night as Alex’s drummer.

“This is Matt, by the way,” Miles pointed at him, before turning to the other two band members. “And that’s Jamie, and Nick. You remember them from yesterday, no?”

“Of course, you put up a great show.”

“Flattery won’t get you anywhere in a game of cards, love,” Matt teased, as he shuffled the deck of cards like he’d do every evening.

And so, the night went on, filled with light and pleasant conversation, and a few more antsy rounds of cards. The beer gradually switched to something stronger, which she identified as a very fine whiskey. Not wanting to think about their tab yet which was bound to arrive at the end of the night, she enjoyed the smooth liquid burning her throat, and beat Jamie once again at his own game.

“I don’t like her,” he grumbled.

“Don’t be petty, Jamie. It’s not her fault you’re shit at cards,” Matt said.

“I’m not shit! I won last time!”

“Last time we let you win because it was your birthday,” Alex smoothly chimed in.

“What?!”

Matt burst out laughing at the guitarist’s aghast facial expression, and she noted even Alex himself smirked along with the merriment. She had only known him for two evenings, but from the lack of lines around his mouth, he didn’t seem like he smiled often, so it was nice to be graced with one.

What she did want to be able to unsee was the way he kept looking at her over the deck in his hands with those dark brown eyes. It made her squirm a bit in her seat.

“So, if we asked you to write an autobiography on the band, would you do it?” Nick asked. She’d told them about her career path, and how she hadn’t been able to write anything for a long while.

“I mean, if that’s what you’d want.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Matt quickly intervened.

“Well, why not?”

“She’d never believe us,” Alex drawled.

She met his eyes once more, and they looked awfully calm.

“No offence, but unless you’re going to tell me you go to Hogwarts and practice magic, I’m afraid you can’t say much that makes me find the story of a band who plays in pubs unrealistic.”

“A band who plays in pubs?! You must be joking,” the bartender suddenly intervened, setting the glass down which he had been drying with a towel for the past half hour. “They’re the most famous band in England! Even have their records played in America, they do. I’m lucky they still play in here, or it wouldn’t be so packed every Friday night.”

“We’d never abandon this place, John. This is where we became men and had our first beverages as adults,” Jamie said, raising his glass.

“Don’t play the fool with me, Jamie. You’d had too many pints before you got drunk to be a first-time drinker, and I’ve seen you sneak through the back when you were younger.”

“I didn’t know there was a certain age you’re supposed to be,” Alex quipped.

“Cause nobody told me!” Miles suddenly shouted, rising from his chair and humming a tune to himself as he cradled his drink closer to his chest.

“For the last time, Miles, if you’re going to dance, please find yourself a partner that isn’t the alcohol.”

The man in question pursed his lips thoughtfully at Alex. “Great idea, mate. I’m gunna take a piss and when I get back, I’ll have found my partner.”

He stumbled off in the direction of the restroom, and the group shared a look, for the hour was growing late and they were the only ones left in the pub.

“Sorry about Miles. He gets awfully vague when he’s drunk,” Nick told her.

She smiled. “Don’t worry about it, I’m having a laugh. I wish I could spend the whole night here. Haven’t had this much fun in a while.”

She noticed Matt trying to subtly glance down at his watch, which was close to striking 3 AM. “Probably not the best idea, love. I think it’s time to go home.”

Alex gave him a look. “Why? She could stay a bit longer, wouldn’t hurt anyone,” he slurred.

“You know why.”

“My fair lady!”

Their heads turned towards the back of the bar, where Miles had gotten down on one knee in front of a mop perched in a dirty bucket. “Please, grace me with a dance.”

The silence that followed seemed to be the cue for Miles to think the mop had accepted his offer, and for Matt to definitely call it a night.

Nick and Jamie helped Miles across the street – after managing to pry the ‘fair lady’ from his arms – while Matt chatted away with John as he was closing the bar, and she was suddenly left alone with the singer himself.

“May I walk you home?” He asked her. “No funny business, I promise.” Though he’d held his hands up in surrender, the action was contradicted by the mischievous glint in his orbs.

“Sure,” she replied, and a very small part of her wished she had just said ‘no’.

“So, since you’re famous and all,” she started, her gaze trained upon the way her feet carefully stepped on the individual stones cemented into the street’s dirt. “Have I heard any of your songs before? What were you guys called again?”

“I don’t think you would have. And we’re called the Arctic Monkeys.”

She raised her brow, the name sounding vaguely familiar.

“Stupid name, I know.”

“No,” she quickly said, “Not at all, actually. It’s somehow… Very fitting.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

She smiled at him, until her eyes turned up to the sky, which was filled with flickering lights in the darkest of blues. “It’s a beautiful night, isn’t it?”

He hummed. “You must not be one to stay up late often, then. It’s beautiful, sure. But not the best sight I’ve ever seen.”

“What is the best sight you’ve ever seen?”

He studied her for a moment, and couldn’t tell if he was deciding on whether to answer her or not, or thinking of long-lost memories. “France. On the countryside. I’ve been all around the world, but that one night – probably caused by the empty bottles of tequila, might I add – was incomparable. Starry, with a really thin crescent moon in the sky, which Jamie described as ‘the moon’s side boob’. I thought that was quite profound. So, I wrote it down. Might even slip it into a song one day.”

The corners of her lips quirked up mischievously, the tingling sensation of the alcohol running through her system finally catching up with her. “Sing me a song, Alex.”

“A song?”

“Yesss,” she pleaded.

“Not sure your husband would agree with that.”

“He’s out and about with Mark and Rachel. Said he’d text me if he’d get back. I think we’ve got time.”

There was a quiver in his stride. “A text, you say?”

She nodded absentmindedly. “Anyways, he’s not my husband, so being serenaded isn’t illegal just yet.”

He let out a chuckle, but it was short-lived. “Could you humour me for a bit?”

“Uh, sure.”

“Could you tell me who’s the ruler of England right now?”

“What?”

“Just- Just answer the question, please.”

“The… the queen.”

“Ah.”

“I didn’t get that wrong, did I? I’m quite plastered, I’m afraid.”

“No, not at all. Perhaps we do have to save that serenade for another night, though.”

They’d halted, but the building in front of them was not one she recognized, and the route they’d taken too short to have been able to get to the hotel. “I don’t think this is-“

He kissed her on the cheek, more gently than she would’ve expected, which left her hanging with her mouth slightly open, numb from sudden surprise.

“Have a good night, love.”

He spared her one last glance, until he turned, and walked back through the dark and deserted street.

She sort of stumbled through the doors, and her eyes widened at the sight, for she was back in her hotel, and when she looked outside, she no longer met with the cobblestone street, but only the cracked asphalt of New Sheffield.

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thepurplevampiregoth · 4 years

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Sanders Sides - Prinxiety | Look Where Apologies Lead

Roman was absolutely and positively irritated with himself. Twice already today, he had snapped at the purple-wearing emo he had crushed on for so long, and it wasn't even four o'clock yet. He had snapped and taunted the emo instead of telling him how he actually felt. Virgil had stormed off to his room after insulting him in return with a glare.

Roman sighed and went to the kitchen to get some tea. He was thoughtlessly humming ‘Be Our Guest’ as he put the tea into his Beauty and the Beast flask. He took some deep breaths, not noticing Patton in the room, who was starting to get food together for dinner. Patton heard him and greeted cheerfully, “Hi kiddo.” Roman bit his lip, “Hey Patton.” Patton frowned slightly, “What happened?” Roman sighed, “I had a fight with Virgil because I was being stupid and reckless again.” Patton patted his shoulder gently, getting a cookie for Roman to have with his tea, “Sit down and tell me what happened?” Roman shook his head, taking the cookie, “I can’t sit down, I’m a little… antsy. I’ll stand and tell you though, Patton.” Patton rolled up the sleeves of his Winnie the Pooh sweater, preparing ingredients for chicken and broccoli bake, “I’m listening, kiddo.” Roman took a deep breath and ate the cookie before taking a gulp of the tea and replying, “So, he did something adorable and I insulted him because I couldn’t compliment him because I’m not brave enough.” Patton replied, “What did you say to him?” Roman gulped, knowing that if you insulted something to do with Virgil, Patton would likely come after you with a stern talking to. He replied in a small voice, “He was wearing this new Jack Skellington sweater under his hoodie and he looked so sweet and fluffy, like a little emo kitten and I wanted to tell him that he looked adorable but instead, I opened my stupid mouth and said ‘There’s like three months to October, right? Isn’t it a little early for Halloween?’” He sighed and asked Patton in a voice that said he was very irritated with himself, “Why do you think I’m so mean to him?” Patton softly replied, turning around from mixing the saucepan full of pasta, chicken, broccoli and sauce, “I’m not sure kiddo. Things will work out in the end. I think it’s because you two clash a bit because of your different styles.” Roman shook his head and exclaimed, talking more to himself than to anyone, “No! It’s because it’s easier to humiliate, degrade and generally shit all over someone than to admit that you love them!” Neither of them were to know that the eyeliner-wearing emo was outside the kitchen door and had heard all of this conversation. He was confused, worried and wondering what was going on. Sure, he had feelings for the prince too, but he had pushed them aside, repressing them because he thought the only thing the prince could ever have for him is distaste and hate. Virgil went back to his room, forcing the cup of frigid coffee down his throat. He had been going to the kitchen to get a fresh cup, but this would do for now. He took a few harsh, deep breaths and paced. Virgil tried to take deep breaths, but his thoughts caught up with him. ‘What if he doesn’t like you at all? What if he was talking about someone else? Who are you kidding, of course he was talking about someone else! He doesn’t like you, and he’ll never love you so quit while you’re still down.’ Virgil thought unhelpfully and gathered every blanket and pillow he could find, practically burying himself under his small pillow and blanket fort. He didn’t notice it at first, but he drifted off to sleep, nestled into one of Roman’s sashes that he may have stolen when putting on a wash in the washing machine once. It smelled like Roman and oddly, it made him feel safe and secure. Patton knocked on his door an hour or two later, worried that he hadn’t shown up to dinner. He opened the door after not getting a reply and called out, “Kiddo?” Virgil’s head snapped up at hearing the paternal man’s voice, “I’m coming Patton, you’ve no need to face the creepy-crawly-death-dealers for me.” Patton smiled at the words, “Okay. Meet you in my room?” Virgil nodded, “See you in five, popstar.” Patton beamed at the dad themed nickname, “You got it, kiddo!” He walked to his own room. Virgil wiped off his makeup and reapplied it. The foundation, concealer and matte powder in the palest shade possible hid his scars and bruises well. He applied his eyeshadow then; in the darkest purple he could find. He walked out of his room and into Patton’s room. Patton smiled at him, sitting on the bed waiting. Virgil chuckled, noticing the poorly hidden blue tie peeking out from behind one of the pillows. Patton tilted his head in curiosity but then he spotted the tie and blushed darkly, trying to hide it but gave up and shyly exclaimed, “Shush!” Virgil smirked a little, “It’s okay, Patton. You and Sherlock’s secrets are safe with me.” Patton smiled softly, “Thank you. …but why weren’t you at dinner? You need to eat something, Virgil.” Virgil sighed, “Fine, I’ll go make something now.” Patton shook his head, “I made chicken and broccoli bake.” Virgil patted his shoulder, “Thanks. I’ll go get some now. …I also need more coffee.” He went to go and get the empty purple travel cup that was festooned with black bats from his room. He brought it into the kitchen and froze, Roman was there. ‘Of course he’s here! Patton likely shooed you in here so you could patch it up.’ Virgil thought to himself. He silently dished up some of the pasta bake and put it in the microwave for a minute and a half before making some coffee. He growled a bit when he found that someone had the audacity to put it on a high shelf and he couldn’t reach it. He went to go and get a stepladder, but Roman beat him to it and reached up on his tiptoes, tall height helping him as he passed it to him, “Sorry, Remus likes hiding it because he’s possessive of it.” Virgil raised and eyebrow, but shook his head and made coffee, putting it back where it belonged. He bit his lip, anxious to be the first person to speak or try to clear the air. But it turned out that he didn’t have to. Roman spoke gently, “I can’t apologise enough for being so cruel earlier. It was a horrible thing to say and I am so sorry, Virgil.” Virgil took a shaky breath, meeting Roman’s eyes, “It’s fine, Princey. Just be careful next time, ‘kay?” Roman put a hand on his shoulder, making eye contact, “No, I mean it. I’m sorry.” Virgil bit his lip, sucking in a breath at his touch. He fought the urge to feel butterflies in his stomach at the feeling.

Roman noticed this and dared to hope that he wasn’t alone in this. “Hey um… Virgil?” He nodded, “Yeah?” Roman chewed on his lip, “Can I ask you something?” Virgil spoke slowly, “Maybe… that kind of depends.” He sighed, “But, go on.” Roman asked him, looking into his violet eyes, “There’s this guy that I really like, and I’m really stupid. Whenever I see him, I want to compliment him, tell him he’s amazing and cute and adorable but all that comes out are insults and hurtful lies.” Virgil raised an eyebrow, hiding his feelings and putting on a nonchalant air, “So?” Roman blushed a little underneath his foundation and setting powder, “So, I need your help. He’s um… like you.” Virgil made himself chuckle, forcing a smirk on his lips, “So the mighty prince of Disney managed to fall for a lowly emo?” Roman blushed darkly, it was faintly showing underneath his makeup, “Y-Yeah. And so what if I have? He happens to be an amazing person!” he exclaimed. Virgil gulped a little, finishing his food, “Question?” Roman smirked a little, “Answer.” Virgil rolled his eyes, “So… this guy. Have you liked him long? Where’s he from?” Roman decided to just say it, because it would be hurtful to both of them to hide his feelings any longer, “Virgil, do you know any other emos that I know?” Virgil froze, thinking to himself, ‘I’m the only emo he knows.’ Virgil felt his breathing speed up and his heartbeat race. He bit down on his lip, shaking his head, “You… you can’t like me back. You can’t! You deserve so much better than me. I’m nothing.” Roman cupped Virgil’s chin in his left hand, forcing the shorter man to look into his blue eyes, “You are amazing, fantastic and adorable. I will fight you on that, Jack Sweetlington.” Virgil blushed darkly at his reaction and tried to look down. Roman’s gaze softened, “If anyone isn’t deserving here… it’s me.” Virgil cupped his cheeks with his hands, glaring at him, “Don’t. You. Dare. Don’t you fucking dare, Roman. You’re wonderful, brave, gorgeous, courteous and brilliant. Don’t you dare think otherwise or… I might just have to tell Patton that I’m not the only self-loathing one at this pity party.” Roman gave him a mock-scandalised look as he playfully replied, “You wouldn’t dare!” Virgil smirked, “Try me.” Roman grinned, coming closer to the shorter man, “Now, just what exactly do you mean by that, creepy cute cookie?” Virgil blushed again but kept his gaze, “Kiss me.” he bravely stated, deciding that he might as well go for it, while Roman was still here and he didn’t miss the opportunity. Roman smiled softly at him and leaned down to place a feather soft kiss to his lips. Virgil removed his hands from his cheeks, wrapping his arms around Roman’s neck to pull him closer. The feather soft kiss was sweet, but Virgil didn’t need sweetness, there wasn’t time. Roman wrapped his arms around Virgil’s waist and smiled warmly against his lips. Roman broke the kiss after a few minutes. Virgil stared up at him, violet eyes boring into blue ones. Virgil bit his lip and asked, if not a little shyly, “So um… are we dating now or…?” Roman beamed at him, stroking his hair a bit, knowing better than to so much as touch his face in case he hurt him, “Nothing would make me happier, storm cloud.” Virgil smiled a bit, “I’d like that too, sword wielder. So… we’re both a bit original with nicknames. Can I list a few and we’ll see if you want to be called them or not?” Roman smiled, holding him close to his chest, “That sounds wonderful, Jack Sweetlington.” Virgil blushed again, “I’m fond of that one.” Roman chuckled at this, “I thought you would. No, go on.” Virgil replied, “I thought of ‘my drama king’, ‘my prince’, ‘my ragdoll prince’, ‘strawberry’, ‘your royal redness’ and ‘rose’.” Roman kissed Virgil’s nose gently, “Those are all so perfect, storm cloud. I have my own for you too! Want to hear them?” Virgil rested his head on Roman’s shoulder, “Sure.” he replied with a smile. Roman held him close, almost protectively so, “Mine are; my storm cloud, my purple cloud, my pumpkin king and violet. But to match the ones you thought of, since they’re so lovely, how about… my dark prince, my emo, my pumpkin king, blackberry, your vibrantly violetness and aconite?” Virgil smiled warmly at him, very gently stroking his cheek, careful not to rub any makeup off, “Those are perfect.” Roman smiled warmly at him, “Will you be my boyfriend?” he asked happily, practically jumping up and down on the insight with happiness. Virgil nodded, “I would love to. Not everyday you get to date a prince, right?” Roman chuckled, kissing his forehead, “Oh shush, you.” Patton spotted them and almost squealed in excitement, “Are you…!?” he asked excitedly, tugging the sleeves of his Winnie the Pooh sweater down, it had been a birthday present from his boyfriend. Logan walked into the room and noticed Patton’s excitement but became worried because he seemed over excited, “Cupcake, what’s wrong?” Patton ran over to him and hugged him close, fidgeting excitably, “I have reason to believe they’re dating, blueberry muffin.” Logan chuckled softly, “About time if you ask me.” Patton grinned, “I don’t disagree with you.” Logan fondly teased, “For once.” Patton blushed. Roman held Virgil close and shyly told Logan and Patton, “Yes, we are dating.” Virgil held onto Roman as though nothing else mattered but holding on tightly to him.

Patton grinned widely, “Yay!” Roman chuckled and turned to Virgil, “I don’t suppose you want to go and watch the Nightmare Before Christmas, my pumpkin king?” Virgil felt his heart flutter as he replied softly, “You’d watch Tim Burton for me, my ragdoll prince?” Roman chuckled, “It’s Disney too, so of course. Let’s go, my emo.” Virgil smile, taking his hand in his, “Let me lead the way, my prince. I have a special edition copy of the DVD in my room. Plus, I have blankets and pillows.” Roman grinned, “I’ll get snacks and you get it started. It’ll be perfect! We can cuddle and watch it.” Virgil warned him, “I’m not stopping singing just because you’re there.” Roman chuckled, “Cute creepy cookie, you’re silly if you don’t think that I’ll be singing too.” Virgil affectionately rolled his eyes, “I’d better go get it set up then, your royal redness. See you in ten?” Roman smiled, “Perfect, my pumpkin king.” With that, Roman got some snacks and drinks while Virgil could be seen going off to his room to set up the DVD of the Nightmare Before Christmas.

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pluckyredhead · 4 years

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Daredevil 101: The Devil in Cell Block D, Part 1

Y’all, I am so excited. “The Devil in Cell Block D” is one of my all-time favorite Daredevil stories and I have been chomping at the bit waiting to share it with you for...*checks watch* four years. Um. *cough*

Anyway, we ended the last Daredevil 101 with Matt in Riker’s Island, awaiting trial for charges of, essentially, Being Daredevil and Thus Annoying the FBI. We also ended with the final Bendis/Maleev issue of the regular series, which means we have a new creative team: Ed Brubaker and Michael Lark, who provide a very seamless transition, not least because Lark’s art is very similar to Maleev’s in style.

This storyline covers DD v2 #82-87.

Content Warnings: There are two incidences of murder that are made to look like suicide in this story. I have not included the images here but if you look up the storyline for yourself be warned that both “suicides” are shown on the page. Also, there’s a lot of prison violence, unsurprisingly.

We begin with Matt, unsurprisingly, not having a very good time:

No one in jail believes that he’s not Daredevil and pretty much everyone is looking forward to him inevitably being killed, guards and supervillains and regular prisoners alike. Poor Matt.

Also, there’s someone else running around on the outside as Daredevil, and Matt has no idea who. And neither do his friends:

EVERYONE IS SO CRANKY. But yeah, as Ben points out, obviously having someone operating as Daredevil while Matt’s demonstrably in jail reinforces their defense that Matt isn’t Daredevil, but it would be profoundly unethical for Foggy to be involved with that. Which he tells the Fake Daredevil when he runs into him:

Foggy going “LA LA LA I LEGALLY CAN’T HEAR YOU” is a very wonderful thing for my heart. Anyway Fake Daredevil will stay a mystery for now!

But the next morning, it’s more bad news:

Of course Foggy, old-fashioned bougie fussbudget, shaves with a straight razor. And of course Foggy, exhausted workaholic, shaves in his office.

The woman is Dakota North. She was a preexisting Marvel character who’d debuted in her own miniseries about 15 years earlier before bopping around with cameos and supporting roles in other heroes’ books. Basically, she’s a former model turned PI, and right now she’s working as Nelson and Murdock’s investigator.

Anyway, she’s here to warn Foggy that the feds are going to argue that Matt can be put in gen pop (general population) with the regular prisoners, since if he’s really Daredevil, he’ll be fine. Of course, even if he is Daredevil, sticking him in the middle of 10,000 other inmates, most of whom have it out for him, is not going to end well - but then, the FBI has made it clear that they’d be as happy with a prison death as a conviction.

Meanwhile, things continue to go poorly for Matt. On his way back from a doctor’s visit, the guard tasked with returning him to his cell instead leads him into a room full of other prisoners. They work for the supervillain Hammerhead and are very much there to beat the crap out of him. Matt manages to defend himself, but then has to explain how he defended himself:

So Matt has been manipulated into solitary. But why?

He’s let out to meet with his lawyer:

I love this beat, because, like, neither one of them wants to commit perjury or fraud, but they also want to get Matt out of there. It’s rare that we see Matt and Foggy wrestling with an ethical issue from the same side because as a narrative device it makes so much more sense for them to argue it with each other, but I love this moment where they’re trying to figure out, together, how to solve this problem without sacrificing their souls. Which will become thematically important later.

Also, they’re in love:

I’M NOT CRYING YOU’RE CRYING etc etc

Anyway. Matt is led back to solitary. Foggy and Dakota are escorted towards the exit.

And then Foggy is attacked.

Foggy’s heart stops beating. And deep within the bowels of Rikers, Fisk laughs.

What a way to attend your best friend’s funeral, jeez.

(Also, I believe this, like Foggy’s wedding, is confirmation that he is at least nominally Catholic as well.)

I always like scanning the crowds in funeral scenes to see who turned up, and there’s some noteworthy appearances and omissions in this one:

So we’ve got Jessica, Luke, Danny with some very Robert Redford hair. Becky and Dakota and Ben are juuuust barely visible in the very last panel (and Ben is narrating). And Rosalind is here, in her last appearance ever, and touchingly, she’s clearly deeply upset over Foggy’s death.

Not in attendance? Literally any Nelson. Also any of Foggy’s other superhero clients, including the Fantastic Four, Tony, and Carol. Nice, guys.

Matt returns to jail with only one thing on his mind: vengeance.

“He was so scared.” NOOOO FOGGY. SOMEONE HUG HIM. SOMEONE HUG EVERYONE.

Becky Blake - remember her? - has gotten a law degree and taken over as Matt’s lawyer now that Foggy’s dead. They go to the hearing to determine whether or not Matt will remain in protective custody, and, well...

I! LOVE! THIS! MOMENT! It is some POWERFUL “I’m not trapped in here with you. You’re trapped in here with me” realness. Matt’s going to gen pop, and that means he can finally start beating up anyone who knows anything about Foggy’s death.

Also the Owl, just for fun:

I mean, not really for fun, but the level of viciousness at play here shows you where Matt’s head is at.

Meanwhile, Ben and Dakota team up to discuss the case:

So: whoever has Foggy killed is cleaning house, and Matt has gone totally apeshit in prison. Neither of these things are great news.

And in more not-great news, guess who’s coming to Rikers!

Party in jail! Bullseye’s bringing the beer! Uh, maybe don’t drink it, though.

Meanwhile, Matt’s reign of terror has even spread to the guards:

As you’ll recall, Hammerhead’s goons attacking Matt was the reason Matt got put in solitary, where he was unable to help Foggy or contact anyone who could help. So Matt puts on a mask, avoids the security cameras, and pays Hammerhead a visit to find out why:

Matt makes it very clear here that the nerve pinches he’s used on Hammerhead are basically torture, and usually he doesn’t use them for that reason. But with Foggy dead, all bets are off. I LOVE MATT GOING FERAL OVER FOGGY. But it does him no good - Hammerhead doesn’t know anything.

Meanwhile, Ben and Dakota get a lead:

This lawyer, Alton Lennox, is the person who hired the prisoner who shanked Foggy. But why?

I’m going to pause here because this is getting looong, but we have a lot of questions on the table: Who is Alton Lennox, and who hired him to have Foggy killed? Where is the prisoner who actually did the stabbing? Has Matt gone irrevocably over the edge? And who is Fake Daredevil?

Next up: Milla, the Punisher, and a prison riot!

#daredevil #daredevil 101

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alubanana · 5 years

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For Our Entertainment

For @gentronlegendaryfriendships

Day 4: Mistaken for Couple I Dancing

Characters: Pidge and Keith

Read it on AO3!

Keith tucked both legs underneath him, the high boots of the formal Altean suit he had been forced into wearing digging uncomfortably into his thighs. Across him, Pidge sprawled in the most unladylike pose Keith had ever seen wrangled the long sleeves of her dress back into something reasonable-looking and held up her hands again.

“Let’s try this again,” she said. Keith glanced down at her hands, one palm up, the other palm down. They’d been trying for the better part of an hour to teach Keith how to play Lemonade Crunchy Ice, but he just couldn’t seem to get the movements down. And while it was a welcome distraction from engaging in the loud, obnoxious party inside, Keith wasn’t sure if he could get the hang of flipping his hands every time they went up. Regardless, he held his hands back up in a mirror of Pidge’s and they tried again.

The aliens they’d saved were definitely up there on Keith’s ‘Top Ten Weirdest Aliens’ list. Partying was a regular form of socializing, so common in fact that there had been at least three all going on the day the Galra had invaded and Voltron had intervened. They saw it as a way of life and the more extravagant the party, the more important it was deemed. And this one - held in the city central hub with every single person in the city in attendance and then some - was of the highest importance.

Voltron were the ‘Guests of Honor’ and after Coran and Allura had wrestled everyone into formal wear, they’d been shipped off to suffer in a room full of a thousand drunk aliens for an entire night. And - once Shiro and Allura had made if very clear playing hooky on this particular party was not allowed - Keith and Pidge snuck off first chance they got to stay away from the loud voices and the crowd.

“Lemonade,” Pidge recited, watching Keith as he tried to focus on the movements of his hands. “Crunchy ice. Beat it once, beat it--no, Keith you forgot to flip your hand again.”

Keith threw his arms into the air. “This is impossible!”

Pidge put her hands in her lap, giving Keith a lazy grin. “It takes practice. Here, we could take a break and I could teach you the cup song instead.”

“The...cup song?”

“Yeah, you know,” Pidge made a show of tapping her fingers against the ground and moving an imaginary cup to the right. “The cup song.”

“I do not know the cup song.”

“Well, you will in like fifteen minutes,” Pidge grabbed Keith by the hand and hauled him to his feet. “Let’s go grab a cup.” Keith glanced anxiously into the crowd inside and Pidge gave him a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry. It’s super easy to learn.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about,” Keith muttered.

Pidge looked at the crowd and worried her bottom lip between her teeth. “I mean...as long as we don’t let go of each other’s hands, we’ll be fine.”

Keith squeezed Pidge’s hand in his own a little and she led the way back into the party. They ducked in between the shouting, cheering aliens and Keith could barely make out Lance having the time of his life and teaching a whole crowd of aliens how to do the macarena. He rolled his eyes and ducked towards the table covered in strange alien punch and hors d’oeuvres. The beat of the music made his teeth rattle and he could already feel the anxiety creeping up on him. He hated it instantly, tightening his grip on Pidge’s hand and using her as her anchor. He couldn’t see Shiro over everyone’s heads and she was the next best thing.

When they got Pidge instantly went for a cup and a new plate, shoving the latter of which into Keith’s arms with the instructions to get as many snacks as possible.

He did as he was told, picking up one of everything on the table, and two of the things he’d thought Pidge would like while she got them drinks and subsequently, the cups she wanted to teach him to do the cup song.

Very suddenly, the loud pumping music with a beat that made Keith’s skull rattle cut out. He paused in picking up something that kind of resembled an eclair and turned to look at what was going on. The DJ sitting at his table said something that made a huge cheer go up through the aliens and the techno music was suddenly replaced by something much slower. Far more relaxing. Keith understood instantly what it was meant to be and hurried over to Pidge to escape before he was dragged into dancing with someone he didn’t know.

“Oh thank God-” Pidge said when she noticed him. “Come on, let’s go back outside before we get forced into this thing.” She hurried through the crowd with two drinks in hand and they made their way back out to the quiet and seclusion of the balcony. Instantly, Keith could feel his shoulders losing their tension and he let out a sigh of relief.

He really hated crowds.

Pidge put down their drinks on the railing and motioned for Keith to do the same with his plate. He did so with a quiet click and the two of them stood in a comfortable silence, each allowing the other to recollect themselves after what had just happened.

It was Pidge who finally spoke first. She set down her glass with a quiet clink and glanced at Keith. “Have you ever danced before?”

“Uh-” he blanched on an answer, drumming his fingers around his cup. “No? I-I mean once in like...third grade but uh...no. Not since then.”

“Same,” Pidge grunted, picking the skin off of what Keith was pretty sure was a grape. “Well, I mean Dad tried to teach me and Matt for important Garrison balls he had to attend, but we let him do it like...twice before he gave up on us.”

“Oh,” Keith suddenly found his expensive glass a lot more interesting. Pidge’s family had always been a sore point for her. He was surprised she was even talking about them, given how defensive she was prone to getting.

Pidge ate her grape. “Do you want to try?”

Keith’s head snapped up. “Try...try what?”

“Dancing,” she said with a shrug. “Maybe we can figure out some weird interpretive dance for the music or something.”

“Wh-What about the cup song?” Keith asked, despite his glass being nowhere near empty enough to use it.

“We can do that later,” Pidge was suddenly looking eager. “C’mon, let’s just try it for like...five minutes. And if you’re not into it, I’ll teach you the cup song. Deal?”

Keith slowly set his cup down on the railing beside him. He glanced into the crowd where the music was still blaring like no tomorrow and hesitantly nodded his head. Pidge took him by his hands and led him to the center of the balcony where they stood there for a moment, hands clasped in each other’s, trying to figure out where to begin.

“We could follow Lance and Hunk’s lead,” Pidge suggested, jerking her head back to the party. Keith could barely make out the two in question, doing extravagant two-step around the entire dance floor that they were clearly making up as they went along.

Keith strangled out a laugh and instead just followed Pidge’s movements as they started to sway gently. He tapped his foot to the practically nonexistent beat of the slow song.

“Full disclosure,” Pidge said. “Matt is the only other dance partner I’ve ever had and the two of us were awful.”

“We’ll...figure it out as we go,” Keith said, watching his feet to make sure he didn’t accidentally crush Pidge’s under the ridiculous boots.

Pidge laughed. “As a part of my space family, I would be absolutely livid if you can’t dance as poorly as Matt.” Her tone was teasing and it made more tension bleed from Keith’s shoulders.

The two of them were a force of nature as they awkwardly made their way in the messiest dance Keith had ever seen. Neither of them had any idea how to dance and while they were constantly tripping and stepping on each others’ toes, Keith found himself grinning despite himself.

He was actually having fun.

Their dance was messy, and the weirdest thing anyone had ever seen, but it was theirs and suddenly Keith understood why Lance and Hunk seemed to be having the time of their lives. He wouldn’t be jumping at the chance to do this again, but dancing and fooling around with someone he’d started to view as a little sister...it was nice. It was fun.

Ducking under Pidge’s arm as she lifted it to spin him, she burst out laughing when he nearly tripped and fell. Keith did the same - loud and genuine - when Pidge stumbled and did an awkward pirouette motion to keep on her feet. The moment the song drew to a close, the two of them paused in the middle of reaching down like they were about to touch their toes and then straightened up.

Pidge gave him a lopsided grin. “Congratulations, bro. You’re just as bad as Matt.”

Keith returned it. “I don’t think you’re much better.”

Pidge snickered and made her way back to their forgotten plate and drinks and picked up her glass. She drained it in practically one gulp and Keith followed in her footsteps, realizing just how parched he was. He glanced down and rolled his wrist to swirl the contents of his cup and glanced back at Pidge.

“So, about that cup song,” he started awkwardly and Pidge snorted, picking up another grape to start peeling the skin off of it.

“It’s super easy,” she promised. “You’ll get the hang of it in like ten minutes, tops.”

He did not get the hang of it in ten minutes.

But that was okay. He spent the evening learning the (in his very justified opinion) over-complicated cup song and listening to Pidge’s careful instructions. It was nice to just sit with his little sister by bond and pretend like the world didn’t exist for a little bit.

And if they went back to doing the world’s most ridiculous dance a few more times over, who could blame them?

#voltron #chocodoesthewriting #gentronweek #prompt: dancing #keith #Pidge #writing

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deniigi · 5 years

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tuesday again, another question!! hdhshs, so, murderdock. how does he interact with the others, if at all? i read through gwens comics, and hes very interesting as a character in ways i dont want to spoil for anyone who hasnt read gwens comics, but. in comparison to inimitable!matt, dfv!matt, and itsv!matt hes very. hm idk but? just??? how does his interactions go with everyone else?? does he ever talk with them, or with any of the foggys?? (his own included hfdb) sorry for rambling im justahhsh

Lol, so.

Long fucking answer ahead.

Murderdock hates everything and everyone and his interactions with almost all the others from other verses are forced at best and hostile in general. He only interacts with people in under fire because he has no other choice. He would never go out of his way to engage with anyone from another verse on his own volition.

That said, in that space in under fire when he has to interact, he is intensely on edge and closed off with basically all of the others, but especially the Matts and Foggys. He hates Big Red/IniMatt. Hates him. With his whole being. Because he’s all over there, touching his Foggy and being careless and emotional all over everyone and being all fucking big and stuff. He makes Murderdock self conscious because he, himself, is so bony and shit and he can only imagine that Big Red is like, stupid handsome and charming and good and everything that Foggy would ever want.

Murderdock is jealous, essentially. But emotions are hard, so rather than interpreting/understanding this as a type of envy, he decides that it his discomfort must coming from the fact that Big Red is the greatest threat in the room as he has similar training and more experience and muscle/weight on him. So naturally, he must die.

Little Red (ITSV Matt), Murderdock hates because he’s young, shy, and unsure of himself. Little Red’s cards are all close to his chest, but the way he moves and talks and exists is generally wrapped up in a lot of insecurity which is recognizable mostly only to other Matts and Foggys. (Peter sees his friend’s insecurities, but Miles and the other Spideys don’t). Because he’s a little naive and soft, he is dumb easy to manipulate, which Murderdock uses to gain more control over his situation in under fire.

Essentially, Little Red makes Murderdock uncomfortable because he lays bare a lot of his own underlying insecurities (why am I like this? Can I ever change? Is there a place for me in this universe? Will I ever get better? Will things ever feel less bad? Do I deserve happiness?–these types of things) and so Murderdock decides that he also must die.

In terms of people who Murderdock does not immediately hate, mostly it’s IniFoggy. He does not understand why he likes IniFogs, but he finds him extraordinarily comforting. I’ve talked before a little bit about how Murderdock is kind of a sub–he’s just in supreme denial of it because of his control issues. IniFoggy, however, has spent ages wrangling Big Red into a semblance of humanity and so does not have time or interest in entertaining either of the younger Matts’ nonsense. He takes control of the situation when he meets Murderdock and gives him very clear directions and explanations with just enough wiggle room for some personal choice. Fogs does this because he’s learned that Big Red, left to his own devices, tends to choose poorly when faced with too broad a selection of choices/behavior. When the choices are limited in some way, he tends to choose better because he can think through some of the consequences more thoroughly.**

**this isn’t like, a huge thing or a well-thought out thing at all, I want to clarify. It’s more like, Fogs saying to Matt, ‘We can either order food in or make something at home. If we order in, we still need to go to the store to get breakfast for tomorrow.’ Laying things out like this kind of helps with some of Matt’s impulsive behavior. It doesn’t really help with his fighting or anger issues, but it helps with some of the little things.

Murderdock doesn’t know that this type of structure is helpful in reducing some of his underlying anxiety/depression. He exists in a highly structured world which requires constant vigilance and politics, but outside of that, on a personal level, he lives in a space with almost no structure at all (because he’s got no one around him who he cares about enough to build routines and behavior around). And that lack of structure makes almost all choices feel meaningless and that makes him start spiraling into anxiety and depression.

IniFogs, however, knows right off the bat that this erratic and violent behavior stems from a place of helplessness and insecurity without having to probe and being known at that level without someone having had to ask is both terrifying and comforting as hell. So when IniFogs tells Murderdock to do something, he feels like it is somehow in his best interest to follow the order, and then Fogs will reward him with positive reinforcement (physical touching, calmness, praise, the dog) and this is something that Murderdock is not used to and which he likes a lot.

When he and DA Fogs were rooming together in law school, DA Fogs did a little bit of this without realizing he was doing it, as it was just second nature to him. So even before he met IniFogs, Murderdock was drawn to DA Foggy because he provided comfort in the form of structure. DA Foggy also has proven that he is somewhat willing put his trust in Murderdock when the situation calls for it, and also not violently opposed to his presence in general and that kind of thing is a little intoxicating for Murderdock. He hasn’t found that with other people and he, on a few occasions, accidentally drops the Murderdock persona and does something which makes DA Fogs laugh or smile or generally be fond/nonjudgmental and Murderdock’s kind of caught in his tracks, trying to figure out why that was so easy/refreshing.

The problem is that he cannot, for the life of him, make himself drop the persona for long enough to actually talk to DA Fogs like a person (because he’s shy and and doesn’t know who he is without it) and so all their interactions revolve around some kind of work thing and then end with Murderdock fucking them up by being unable to control his impulses to do bad things or be a smarmy dick.

So yeah. Long story short: Murderdock hates everyone from the Inimitable and ITSV verses except Inimitable Foggy, and he talks to no one ever because he doesn’t like being confronted with versions of himself and others who force him to be self reflective on his own behavior and actions.

PHEW. Great question!

#fic #inimitable verse #y'all are over here doing your damnedest to get me to write the DA Foggy/Murderdock fic and its WORKIGN ya bastards

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catvampire · 5 years

Text

All on The Prince’s Seal / Ch. IV

[ Masterlist ]

Luke heard the door closed behind Matt and another person entering. It took him a blink longer than it should have for him to realise he should stand up to greet the person, especially now that his security had left him on his own for a moment. He turned around to face the visitor: a brown woman with light brown hair and dark eyes. A woman he knew.

“Lady Douglas.” He couldn’t keep a small surprise from his voice. She seemed almost as surprised as he was.

“Your Highness,” countess Lisa Douglas spoke, giving a curtsy much deeper than felt right for the situation. Last time they’d met, they’d both been in formal attire in a ballroom: the change from that to her simple dress and his sweater---Matt’s sweater, no less---and a chance meeting in a hospital room was stark. “Should I leave you alone?”

“No, I--umh. I was just here to see Mr Brooks.”

“Yes---of course.”

Luke gestured towards the chair Matt had just vacated, and Lady Douglas bowed her head as she sat down, placing her bag and flowers down next to the chair. She glanced at Phil, took the image in, sorrow passing her face---Luke followed her gaze, the shadow of the emotional outburst passing his mind, reminding him to build up walls around it. It was time to be Crown Prince again.

“I didn’t know you know Phil,” he said to offer something to talk about to break the weighted silence.

“He used to work for my family’s estate before the royal palace. My brother would’ve paid him anything to get him to stay there---he said it wasn’t about money.” She gave a pointed look to Luke.

“Yeah, you know him. When he makes up his mind, there’s no turning him around.”

Lisa let out a laugh… and then the conversation died down. There were some birds chirping outside the opened window, and he could vaguely hear a news report coming from a few rooms away---other than that, it became silent for a minute.

“I’m so sorry for your loss, your Highness.”

The reminder of Teresa’s death hurt a lot more than he expected it to. Luke kept his eyes out to the window but could feel Lisa looking at him, the few intakes of breath sounding like she was trying to say something but feeling hesitant about it. When she moved in her chair, straightened herself up for courage, Luke turned to look at her.

“Can I pry something?” she asked, unsure if she was stepping over boundaries. The way she asked made him uncomfortable; she had done nothing in the past to invade his privacy, and her uncertainty gave the moment a strange edge. Luke didn’t answer but didn’t do anything to say ‘no’ either, so she continued: “I saw in the news you’d given permission for the Day of the Roses to go on as every year. Are you not planning to be coronated today?”

He understood her hesitancy now. “No.” It was the one thing he was sure; he would not take Teresa’s day. He could not sit on the throne Teresa was supposed to sit down today, not let the crown be pressed on his head when the person it had been fitted for had passed just hours ago. This was Teresa’s coronation---even if she wouldn’t stand as a Queen on the stage today, he would not steal the day for himself. Not in these circumstances.

“How long are you going to wait?”

“I don’t know. Matt---umh, my bodyguard, a friend---suggested I could wait to next year to keep the tradition. It’d give me time to prepare.”

Her confused look gave him an incentive to continue.

“Teresa was always going to be Queen. Her kids after her. Of course, there was always a chance she’d fall down the stairs or run away or just refuse the throne and I’d end up ruling, but for the last ten-twenty years, it’s felt so obvious she would become Queen and rule until she was sixty and then give the throne to one of her adopted kids. I was just the spare. And this I get a knock on my door this morning at six telling me I’ve just become King because my sister died on her way to the coronation. I haven’t known any longer than anyone else in Valosia. And I don’t know if I can run a country like she could have.”

It felt like too much information to give someone like this, even someone noble, even in a private setting, but the weight of the day gone past was finally crumbling him. Matt understood, but he hadn’t had the chance to say these things out loud to him---and Matt knew anyway. Now that he knew he was going to spend the rest of the day under camera lights, it felt like the last moment to get these things out to someone before it’d crush him.

“I know how you feel.” Lisa seemed genuinely empathetic. “I have five brothers. When I was born, everyone assured me I wouldn’t have to worry about the county. Then Daniel decided he wanted to stay in the military and Christopher married abroad, and suddenly there was just Marcus before I’d be in the line of inheritance. Marcus didn’t want the burden either but thankfully held on to it while I studied. Daniel and Christopher helped me learn what they’d been taught, and the rest I learnt on my own---and my younger brothers know what to do if I suddenly have to step down. But it was a tough two years.”

This was surprising. Despite knowing the Douglas lineage from lessons in childhood and the occasional tabloid headline, all of this was new information to Luke. He’d heard about Daniel and Christopher in passing, on the gossip circles in galas he’d paid little attention to, but had never stopped to think what it meant for the family. And Lady Douglas had done great work in keeping it from becoming a national story. He couldn’t even recall seeing articles about the county doing poorly.

“Wow.”

She seemed genuinely flattered by that for a moment before her expression turned serious again. “But I’m no Queen.”

A pause. “And Valosia has been without a monarch for almost a year already. Teresa didn’t marry or have an heir, and now the crown is compromised. You’re the last of your family, Prince Lucas. If anything happens to you...”

‘...it’s the end of the Alvez lineage.’ ‘...who knows who will have the crown?’ ‘...the monarchy could end here.’

None of the options with which she could finish the sentence was appealing, and she seemed to come to the same conclusion when she cleared her throat and closed her lips. The air had suddenly turned heavy---and as much as Luke wanted to think this all was his alone to deal with, she was right. For centuries Valosia had allowed the crown to pass to adopted children and to spouses to avoid this very situation, and Luke found himself, very briefly, feeling angry at Teresa for waiting so long and leaving him in this situation before rectifying himself.

She didn’t know. And neither did you.

A knock on the door shattered through the tension. “It’s me.”

A welcome relief. “Come in, Simmons,” Luke called out, and the doorway opened, Matt stepped halfway into the room. Luke could hear the crinkle of plastic as he moved, and while the door covered the source of it, Luke could make a strong guess towards ‘flowers’.

“Am I interrupting anything, your Highness?”

“No, I was just---...” Luke stood up. “Leaving.”

“I’m sorry, your Highness,” Lisa voiced, “if I overstepped.”

“No, not at all, Lady Douglas… Thank you.” She stayed sat down, and it came to Luke she was likely planning to stay until Phil woke up. “If he wakes up, will you tell him I came by?”

“Of course, your Highness.”

It didn’t feel right to give longer goodbyes, so Luke simply exited the room after Matt.

Luke’s guess for the sound of the crinkling had been correct: in his left hand, Matt was carrying three bouquets of varying colours, each with a card hanging from the Luke could just barely make out printed text.

“What’s this?”

Matt’s expression turned from serious to slightly sheepish as he offered the roses towards Luke to give a better look.

“Flowers. For the three other people who got hurt in the explosion. I sent one for the family of the one person who died. I told them that if they want someone from the palace to attend the funeral, it could be arranged. But these were coming here, so I wanted to get your signature while we are here.”

Matt offered a fountain pen to Luke, and without saying a word, Luke signed the cards one by one, quickly giving a glance to the well-written cards giving condolences and offering help should any be needed. They weren’t written by Matthew, he could tell from the wording, but knew better than to ask at this point.

“You’ve thought of everything.”

Matt passed the flowers along to a shorter woman Luke hadn’t noticed before who left with them. When he turned back to Luke, his face had turned serious again. “I actually wanted to pull you out because I have news.”

“The head of National Security ruled the explosion as a result of attempted arson. There had been leaking gas pipes in the building, so when some anarchist tried to set the building fire as a protest, presumably towards Teresa, it had blown up instead of just burning.”

Luke stared at him for a moment, completely frozen in his place. The emotional whiplash seized all thought process, left him speechless until he could properly take in the situation. “Arson?”

“The guy is in the wind. Barnes, Prentiss, and Atwood are giving a press conference about it now. JJ is waiting for us outside. They want you in the palace to give a speech as soon as possible.”

A small beat. “We should go.”

#this chapter is an emotional rollercoaster i apologise #luke alvez #matt simmons #simmvez #mine: fics #mine: writing #fic: all on the prince's seal

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