#I love your ficlets so much. In all honesty I picked this one because I was afraid my attempts at the male characters' voices might be

[thewatercolours]

Podfic: "A Bitter Cup of Tea" by GerbilofTriumph

With permission of the author, a shabby but hopefully cheering narration of one of her ficlets! First time using Audacity, one take, no edits - being carried along by nothing but good will. Complete with terrible faux English accents (on purpose! that's the way the girls talk in the game!)

Her amazing blog full of King's Quest creativity can be found over here: @gerbiloftriumph

Original text here:

[obae-me]

Happy Birthday Lucifer

I’m a day late and a dollar short, but I managed to create a little birthday ficlet for my favorite boy. Happy Birthday, Lucifer!

____________________________________

Whoever came up with the definitions and visions of heaven and hell had been severely mistaken. They say damnation was all fire and brimstone, nothing but screams of anguish and torture. But on this night, down in the domain of demons, you had finally felt the true meaning of peace, of love, of home. 

Heading to the demon of the day’s room, fingers interlocked with each other, you glanced up at him. “Are you sure you’re done with the party?” You asked, listening to the ruckus of drunken demons drift further away. 

Lucifer deflected his true answer by making a related statement, waving his hand in a large dismissive gesture. “They’ve had their fun.” 

You stopped him by tugging on his arm. “Did you have fun?” 

Surely you must’ve looked pitiful, because he couldn’t help but curl his lips in a smile and caress your cheek. “Noise and games aren’t typically my ideal pleasure, but...yes, I enjoyed myself. If my brothers can manage to behave for even one day, that much is enough for me.” Then his face turned pink, and the stiffness of his face fell. He picked up your hand and pressed it against his lips. “Truth is, I tend to treasure the times I’m with you most, that is when I really have...fun.” The way he pronounced it like a forbidden word made you laugh, which seemed to make him blush harder.

“Someone seems to have had a bit too much Demonus,” you announced, pressing the back of your free hand to his face. 

In a more sober mind, he might’ve swatted your hand away with the tease or shushed you, but he simply nuzzled against your touch raising an eyebrow. “Have I have?” 

Nodding, keeping the giggle restrained in your chest, you started leading him back towards his room. “I think so, yes.” As soon as the doors to his bedroom swung open, the demon of pride let out a deep relaxed moan, his jacket falling from his shoulders and straight to the floor. This was one of his safe zones, his sanctuary. He’d never connect the dots, but you assumed he’s where Levi got it from in the first place. Knowing he’d be grumpy about it in the morning, you made sure to pick up his coat, fold it as best you could, and place it on his dresser for later. With your back turned this seemed to be his time to strike, coming up behind you and hugging his arms tightly around your body. Tilting your head to try to see him, but only getting his hair in your face, you felt your heart flutter. “Hi, can I help you, birthday boy?” 

A thoughtful hum, a breath against the back of your neck, he took in a moment before answering your question. “You help me out so much already. So so much.” 

The honesty tempted to bring tears to your eyes. “You’re exaggerating.” 

Quickly turning you, he tucked you into his chest, squeezing you tightly. “No, no, no,” he assured you slowly. “From the moment you rise from your bed to the moment you close your eyes at night, you help me. Actually, no, I’m mistaken. Every moment you take a breath, waking or resting, every second your heart beats is valuable to me.” 

Almost regarding it all as tipsy nonsense, you scoffed. “Luci-” 

“Shh,” he wouldn’t let you get another word in. “Do not try to convince me otherwise. If you only knew how precious you are to me. No gift would compare. And yet…” He trailed off, pulling away from you slightly. You felt a slight tug around your neck and noticed that yours and his matching necklaces were tangled together, keeping your faces dangerously close. Lucifer didn’t seem to notice. “Might I be selfish today? For one night, might I indulge myself in frivolity? Truth be told, for my birthday, I really only had one wish. Would you grant it to me?”

How tragic, you had to think, of all those who assumed that the darkness only held perils and dangers. Maybe at one point in your life, you would’ve thought the same thing. Who knew that everyone who believed in such things was missing out? Because here around demons was the only place you felt safe, felt loved, felt at home. 

You might’ve indulged his wish, but you would have been lying if this hadn’t been one of your own.

Hand in hand, head against his chest, his cheek resting on the top of yours, you both were slowly swaying back and forth to Debussy in front of the fireplace. The lights were dim and the moon outside served as your spotlight as the shadows of the blaze danced alongside you both. You felt the warmth in equal measure from the flames and from his body, and while the music was a decent volume, the only thing you were tuned into was Lucifer’s gentle humming. He only ever hummed when he was happy. Taking a deep breath, you let the scent of him comfort you. An elegant mixture of bergamot and neroli, with some other popular devildom scent that you’d become obsessed with. It wasn’t much of a dance, but neither of you cared. Simply shifting both your weights back and forth, one foot to the other, ever so slowly spinning. You couldn’t see him, but you could feel him, his lips in a permanent smile against your temple, his heartbeat slowing down into a calm steady rhythm, his arms protecting the back of your body. 

You’d been driven mad before today trying to figure out what to get the man who could snap his fingers and get anything. Now you knew, he didn’t care much for material things. He was someone who simply ravished other people’s pleasant company. The way he leaned against you, blind to the outside world, you were sure this was everything he had ever wanted. And maybe if you could indulge yourself in some of his pride, you knew he at last had the perfect gift. You. 

[liarchive]

✦ venti, zhongli, and baal as your uncle(s) and aunt.

⸬ FEATURED ─ gn! reader, venti, zhongli, and baal.

⸬ FLAVOR ─ fluff.

⸬ WARNING ─ -

⸬ TYPE ─ ficlets.

⸬ VENTI.

having venti as your uncle is both, so great, and so bad. he is the type of uncle who looks cool but stupid in the eyes of teenagers, but troubling (and concerning) in the eyes of adults. who would ask their nephew to drink wine with him if it isn’t venti? but don’t worry, even though uncle venti is stupidly concerning, he still tries to take care of you correctly. my man is still a bit sane, but you couldn’t expect him to not be your best friend instead of mere uncle. he’s up to literally anything. from playing games to robbing a grocery store. whenever you need someone to accompany you doing dumb shit, venti is always there to fill the role. sometimes, it’d be him who needs someone to accompany him to do dumb shits-- not that you mind it, though. When you’re sad, venti gives physical affection (only if you want to) and gives you things you like, whether it be foods, drinks, or something else. he isn’t really good at comforting using the therapist-ish method, but nonetheless, still try his very best to make you happy. bless uncle venti, 10/10. the greatest dumb uncle you’d ever ask for.

⸬ ZHONGLI.

zhongli is a very responsible uncle, not gonna lie. your parents can depend on him so much in taking care of you, and when they’re back, you’re mostly healthy. except on rare occasions.. zhongli will help you with your studies, whether it be homework or just studying<3 His brain is probably Albert Einstein’s brain-- not that you mind it, because sometimes he’d offer to do your homework rather than just help (it’s unfortunately rare)!! zhongli is your bestie when it comes to books!! he loves going to the bookstore with you, man got unarguably good taste in books. the books he picks are very delicious, he has a special sensory for books!! /j but in all honesty, he’s just very good at picking books! zhongli lives to accompany you in calm times! If you like history, then you’re very lucky because we all know zhongli is a man with very wide knowledge. zhongli’s way of comforting is through words of affirmations and quality time:) he’ll be there for you, this man lives to see you happy.. 10/10, the best albert einstein reincarnation uncle.

⸬ BAAL.

baal.. has two possibilities as an aunt. whether she’s the type to be down bad horrendous for her nephew, or the cold-like type.. however, she still loves her nephew! If she’s being the type no. 1, man. she’s your mother-like best friend?? she’s always there for you, and would not hesitate to spend her mora to buy you things you want. baal will destroy people who hurt you, unless if you tell her not to.. she’s very open about that too. still, baal is a responsible aunt, even though your parents aren’t away, she is still checking up on you twice a week, just in case! however, if she’s being type no. 2, i don’t think you two will talk often. baal gives an intimidating aura-- it doesn’t feel right for you to feel intimidated by your own aunt, but you can’t help it. But you also admire her!! she’s so pretty.. and i’m sure baal is also a woman with wide knowledge. now, baal seems to be someone who’d ask a few general information about you to your parents, simply because she thinks it’ll be awkward if she talks to you. once in a while, baal secretively gives you presents!! they aren’t that expensive, they could be a necklace and some hairpins, maybe a few clothes she thinks you’d like, maybe food! please try to talk to her</3 baal is probably desperate to be able to talk to you, but she just can’t. baal is protective though!! she sees you as a fragile human, mainly because you’re still young and still has a lot to learn, so she sometimes would think protecting you is one of her jobs. baal’s way of comforting you is through the act of service, and quality time! she can also give physical affection, but she prefers you to be the one who initiates it, she doesn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable;) 10/10 best aunt!!

[pri-the-writer]

Betrayal of a Lover

Happy Holidays @gelatingem! I was your Secret Santa for the @d20exchange! So sorry for the late posting, my schedule has been hectic lately. I decided to write a ficlet featuring CalAmethar, from Calroy's POV during the Safe Harbor episode and the notorious rampart scene and For Candia Part Two, as well as an "after-credits" scene of sorts. I hope you enjoy it! <3 Calroy thought his plans were ruined after Amethar escaped Comida. But then a messenger bird arrived, reporting the arrival of the former royal family in Port Syrup. Things were back on track, but he needed to move quickly. Place the proper bait, alert the right people, and put on his best pants. And then, there he was. The former king of Candia. Amethar the Unfallen. His lover.

Amethar immediately lights up when he sees Calroy. He ignores how his heart flutters when their eyes meet. The candy rock man laughs as he says, Got some pants. Now, those are some pants.”

“Well, I've had to upgrade in the absence of Candia's greatest fighter.” Calroy says, choking up at the end of his words. He makes sure not to overdo it. Amethar was as dull as a hammer when it came to subterfuge, but the others- especially the new man who seems familiar in a haunting way- might be better at picking up on this. Amethar immediately moves into his space, placing a hand on Calroy’s shoulder and saying, “Oh Bulb, Cal, no.”

They embrace, and Calroy can practically feel Caramelinda’s eyes boring holes into the back of his skull. He never understood why Caramelinda hated his relationship with Amethar; she had Sir Amanda Maillard, after all. But, in this instance, her anger was justifiable. Once he pulls away from Amethar, Calroy begins the dance.

A joke here, advice there, silence in-between. It’s a dance he knows well, and tonight, it will crescendo. Caramelinda wants to speak with Amethar in private, so Calroy suggests that he and Cumulous- another hiccup in the plan, but not a major one- explore the castle and see if the monk can awaken any arcane fortifications. Calroy is careful to avoid the castle areas where his men are preparing.

After some time, Cumulous and Calroy part, and the swashbuckler heads to Amethar’s chambers. A familiar path, no matter where he is coming from. His mind drifts to the first night Amethar had invited him to his chambers. Well, invited wasn’t the right word. It was more like a heated tumble down the hall and into his bed. After that, Calroy saw much more of the king’s chambers, and the queen spent more and more time in her own. Speak of the Hungry One, Calroy passes by Caramelinda in the hall. She doesn’t even look at him. Entering the bedchamber, Calroy winces and asks, “Oooh. Bad time? Good time?”

“Anytime.” Amethar replies numbly. Calroy lets out a heavy sigh as he says, “Well, instead of being in the place where your wife will come back to go to sleep and maybe make you feel terrible some more, let's, I don't know, wanna go take a shit in a field? In all honesty, the ramparts of the castle need some tending to, and I think we should talk about what we do if Sir Maillard fails to hold them at the Cola River.”

Amethar agrees, and they head off to ramparts. The dance partners are lined up now. Calroy looks out at the tents amassed below as they walk across the ancient ramparts. He’s surprised Amethar doesn’t notice the Ceresian tents. Then again, he certainly wasn’t the sharpest rock in the family.

“Look at all those tents. Like 20 years of peace just flew by, huh?” Calroy remarks. Amethar chuckles and replies, almost wistfully, “I guess so. Right back to where we started.”

“I guess so.” Calroy says. He starts to go for the dagger, but Amethar speaks up again and asks gently, “Cal… are you mad at me too? Because of… Catherine?”

His hand moves away from his belt, and Calroy shifts to stand in front of Amethar as he asks, “Of course not. Why would I?”

Amethar answers, a bit surprised, “Because we love each other.”

Calroy smiles and leans up to press a kiss on Amethar’s lips, one hand on his chest and the other moving to hold his waist. Amethar returns the kiss passionately, his mouth conveying his longing for Calroy, just how much he had missed him, and how sorry he was for abandoning him. After a heated moment, Calroy parts with Amethar and says, “Oh Amethar… I don’t love you.”

With one swift movement, Calroy stabs Amethar in the back with his water steel dagger, pulling him closer as he did, just to ensure the paralysis kicked in. Feeling Amethar stiffen, Calroy removes the dagger and steps away as he says, “You know what I always hated about you, Amethar? You were so damned lucky. I mean, fifth in line for the throne, and the crown rests on your head. And each of your sisters better and more-” he stabs Amethar in the gut as he enunciates, - “clever than you. It really makes the unfortunate minor lord of a less than wealthy barony feel… a little underwhelming. And sure, I bedded my way to a position of power, but everyone in court sees me as the Royal Consort. How do you think that feels? I have so much talent, so many abilities, but you know what everyone first thinks when they see me? “Oh, there’s the king’s right-hand man. His paramour. His…””

Calroy stops himself, his teeth grinding in his jaw. So much anger, bottled away for so long. But he needed to remain composed. It would be unseemly to step on his partner’s toes. He took a moment to enjoy the look in Amethar’s eyes- he couldn’t precisely express himself beyond that- it was heartbreak and shock, plain and simple. Eventually, he finds his voice again and says, “Oh, I'll say your sisters were a little bit less lucky. The least lucky thing that ever happened to Rococoa was when she found out that I was selling weapons to the Ceresians. That, that had to be dealt with-” Amethar’s eyes were filled with rage now, as Calroy expected- “and I think you'll remember how strange it was that she was found riddled with arrows so far behind our own lines! But that's war, and strange things happen all the time. Ceresians, I find, are very reasonable. Very reasonable. And you can see some of their tents out here in the field.”

He points to the field, and Amethar’s eyes dart towards it and widen as he sees the tents. It all begins to sink in, and the music speeds up. Calroy continues, “You know, I don't have luck, so I have to work. I have to work a lot. First, I had to put the little cheese boy onto the scent of the Duchess Coldbottle, and I had to ferry his idiot sailors all the way up the Sucrosi Road to that little farmhouse, I mean, had to get them there somehow, they couldn't sail there, could they? And they would be so suspicious walking up the road. And yet, you miraculously survived when you should have died! Amethar the Unfallen! You uncharacteristically leave a fight; you jump out of the ring rather than trying to behead that carrot. And they call the tournament, even with all the work that me and Alfredi put into getting those water steel daggers into her hands! I… I thought I was going to fail.

And then… And then your friend Manta Ray Jack mentioned a girl at the banquet stashed somewhere in the Dairy Islands, and I thought, that's so interesting. Amethar loves me, doesn’t he? Why would he never tell me? And I got to thinking, Amethar was never quiet about his exploits as a roving Prince of Candia- present company excluded- so why didn't I hear about this girl? And I thought I'd better talk with Manta Ray Jack. He didn't want to talk, but a few fingers and pints of blood later we remembered your sister's book, very useful your sister, very useful indeed, up until a young Belizabeth Brassica ordered her run down in the street by Vegetanian knights. That hurt because she had always been very sweet to me.

Well, after Manta Ray, we saw an opportunity. You know, it hurts to have all of your plans fail, but they say that improvisation is the better part of planning, so I was happy to take advantage of that opportunity when it presented itself, Amethar. I’ve worked hard, and I’ve sacrificed so much, it’s time for my dividends to pay up. All that’s left to do is clean up your mess.”

He moves Amethar- not an easy task, mind you- so his back is to the rampart, and he faces Calroy. As he looks at the face of his former lover, Calroy sees tears falling from his eyes, despite the rage held in them. Indulging his worst instincts, Calroy presses one last chaste kiss to Amethar’s lips, telling him, “Don’t take it personally, dear. It’s just politics.”

Reaching down to pull Amethar’s legs up and hoist him over the rampart, Calroy muses, “I wonder if they'll call you Amethar the Unfallen after this. Here's to a future you can't ruin.”

And with one big heave, the former King of Candia falls from his castle rampart. Calroy watches him for a moment- he should wait, make sure he dies, but part of him doesn’t want to watch that. Instead, he leaves to find Caramelinda and others loyal to the Rocks. The night was hardly over, but the dance had finished at last.

===

They weren’t winning this battle. Calroy knew this, and thankfully, he had prepared for this. His status and power were assured; he just needed to get out. But as he ran across the ramparts towards the secret exit that would lead to his escape, an obstacle places himself in his way. The monk, Cumulous, appears in front of Calroy, who turns to run. And suddenly, he sees him. Amethar, his armor covered in blood and gore, and a look of cold, steely rage on his face.

Gone was the soft look of love. Gone was the sadness, the despair of betrayal. With just one look, Calroy knew that whatever love Amethar might have kept for him died along with Jet. Quietly, in a reserved tone Calroy had rarely heard before, Amethar says- no, commands, “What's the last part of my title? Say it.”

“Amethar.” Calroy says, uncharacteristically struggling to find the words. Amethar asks again, “What's the last part of my title?”

“You-” Calroy starts to say but is cut off by the same command, “Say the last part of my title.”

Before he can speak, Cumulous kicks Calroy in the back of the knees, forcing him to bow. He takes a moment, then lifts his head to look Amethar in the eyes as he says, “Amethar… the Unfallen.”

And in an instance, Calroy draws his sword and leaps at Amethar, slashing him deeply across the chest. But a second too late, Calroy realizes he has made a grave error. He looks to his former lover one last time as the king raises Payment Day. Calroy sees the heartbreak in Amethar’s eyes, not just for the daughter he failed, but for the lover he lost to his greed and lust for power. Calroy whispers, “I’m sorry.”

And then Amethar brings Payment Day down, and the world goes black.

===

After it is all said and done, after a queen and emperor are crowned, bodies are laid to rest. Jet’s funeral lasts a week; people from across Calorum come to pay their respects to the lost princess. Calroy’s lasts 30 minutes; only two people are in attendance in the small chapel of Muffinfield. Donetta and Calroy were not in love, but they loved each other as friends and partners. She has paid her due for aiding the usurper and now lives as a nun in the chapel.

She performs the funeral rites for her husband, reading his eulogy stiffly to the only other attendant: the Emperor of the Concordant Empire. Once she is done, Donette excuses herself from the room, knowing to stay away from the emperor at this moment. Silently, with only his audible steps echoing in the high-ceiling chapel, Amethar approaches the coffin. It’s closed, as there was no way to make the body seemly for a funeral. A flag with the crest of Muffinfield rests on the lid, and Amethar places his hand gently over it.

“... Why did you do it, Cal? Was it just politics? Was that all I was to you? A stepping stone in the path to power? I loved you and you-” Amethar stops himself, his voice choking as he thinks about Jet, how the man he loved allowed her death. After a breath, Amethar continues, “If you had just asked me for a title, I would have given it. I would have given you anything, Cal. But you decided to take everything, and you lost it all and more.

You know, I hope Jet gets to kick your ass, wherever you are. I hope Rococoa destroys you. Citrina will make sure you live. Sapphria will want to shank you, but Lazuli will probably stop her. And I… damn it, what am I even doing here? You killed my daughter or got her killed at least. You tried to kill me, Ruby, Caramelinda, everyone. I should hate you. I want to hate you… Why did you have to say it? Why did you have to look like that?”

Calroy’s eyes before he brought Payment Day down flashed in Amethar’s mind. He heard the words, “I’m sorry,” on the breeze. He had hardened his heart after Jet died. He had to, to survive what came next- but seeing the remorse on his lover’s face had broken him all over again. Unable to shake these thoughts, Amethar braced his hands on the coffin and leaned on it as he felt tears sting his eyes. As he cried, Amethar cursed, “Damn you, Cal. Damn you.”

[mskatesharma]

for the 40 questions meme for fic writers! 7, 13, & 16 🥰

Thank you for these love! 💖 (From the '40 Questions - Meme for Fic Writers')

7. Share a snippet from one of your favorite pieces of prose you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

So this is really hard for me because I'm quite critical about everything I write, and when I read stuff after I've posted it I can't stop thinking about how it could have been different but! I think I'll pick a section from this ficlet, as it's one of my favourite things that I've written, and you commented on the last bit of it (:

He wonders if her dreams are as vivid as his.

His eyes lock onto hers from where he had been studying her wrist, enclosed by his hand, and Anthony finds himself surprised by her honesty. He knows she is not one to mince her words, and yet he wonders why she would give him this; admit that were he not a coward, she might have been on his arm tonight. Instead, he’s wondering if she’s on the arm of another.

Before he realises quite what’s happening, he’s leaning down towards her again, and this time, he doesn’t feel her hand on his chest.

He tilts his head just before their lips meet, and her lips are somehow softer than before. She steps in closer, and her mouth parts slightly when he brings his other arm around her waist. He traces her lips, his tongue teasing into her mouth and he can taste the lingering tobacco. He can smell it too, but somehow, the soap and lilies are stronger. He pulls her tighter, his hand flexing on her waist and he feels and hears her breath hitch. She pulls back slightly, their breaths heavy, mixing together.

“God Kate...I...” Anthony leans in again, once is never enough, but this time, Kate steps back, and he sees her take a deep breath.

“But I know you can’t, not with me, so it doesn’t matter.” It takes him a moment to realise what she’s saying; that she knew he wouldn’t ask her. And he hates it, and in that moment, he hates her too. Hates how she knows him, how she’s always right. Hates the effect she has on him, how he feels out of control around her. He hates how he’s affected by the breathlessness of her voice, and how he can’t seem to help himself. He takes a step towards her, and she shakes her wrist free of his grasp. “I understand, I get that it’s not what you want Anthony, not really” and with one sad look, she turns and leaves him adrift in a sea of bodies.

He wants to call her name, tell her that actually, she doesn’t understand, but he bites his tongue. Because she’s right of course. He doesn’t want whatever the thing between them is, because he’ll only end up hurting her. And that’s why no matter how much he tells himself he hates Kate, he hates himself even more.

So I was in a fairly angsty mood when I wrote this, and just wanted Anthony while not in denial of his feelings for Kate, acknowledging yet resenting them, and I think I sorta managed it? I also wanted to show how drawn to Kate he is (and Kate to him), and how physically staying away from her is his way of trying to stem his growing feelings for her, but when he's in her presence, all his "good work" has been for nothing, because she's all he wants, no matter how hard he tries. I don't know if I did manage to achieve all that, but I'm fairly happy with how it turned out anyway lol.

13. What’s the best writing advice you’ve ever come across?

Okay so I have a really bad memory when it comes to stuff like this, but I always remember someone saying you should try to write something everyday, even if it's just a sentence, which I think is solid advice. But as someone who definitely struggles with that, don't be afraid to take a break from writing, even if it turns into a substantial gap? If writing everyday works for you then go for it, but I know it's not for everyone.

I think also try to remember you write for yourself first and foremost, and you sharing what you write is a privilege for others, not a right. I think sometimes that tends to be forgotten, and fic writers can often feel pressured, when they shouldn't. Writing is supposed to be fun, and if it ever stops being fun, it's fine to stop!

16. If you only could write one pairing for the rest of your life, which pairing would it be?

Oh god this question. Well obviously right now I’m at the start?middle? of a very deep kanthony obsession and they’re the only pairing I can really think about right now? But for the rest of my life? I think I'd stop writing because I can't pick lol. Sorry being a cop out with that answer.

Thank you again Leah! 😘

[stargaze-issei]

ᴅᴀʏ 3; ғᴀᴠᴏʀɪᴛᴇ ʙᴀᴄᴋɢʀᴏᴜɴᴅ sᴛᴏʀʏ

-> kageyama tobio

𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭; kageyama finds comfort through middle school in his teammate's little sister, kunimi y/n. (ficlet/scenario)

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬; mentions of bullying.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭; 1.6k

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞; fluff.

since you were little, akira was always there. mom and dad had jobs, which meant they were away from dusk till dawn. your brother walked you to school, picked you up, made dinner every day until you were big enough to help him. he hated doing those stuff, if he could've been lazy, he would've, but his responsibility to you was bigger. as you grew up, the one year difference started to become less and less noticable, then it wasn't him getting up earlier to make breakfast, it was you waking him up or he'd be late for school. you started to realize that your brother wasn't the knight in shining armor you thought he was, he was a normal school boy, not that it was a bad thing, but to wake up from your childish world was certainly a bummer. when akira got into middle school, he chose the one closer to your elementary school. to your surprise, a certain club activity had caught his eye, which lead to you waiting on the bleachers most days, refusing to go home alone. you liked spending time with him.

soon, you started taking part in their trainings, picking up balls, delivering water, learning everything from watching. the coach had took you in as an apprentice, much to akira's surprise. once you got to middle school, you were officially the team's manager. all akira's friends, if you could call them that, were your friends too. except for one. the wonder setter, kageyama tobio, avoided conversation with you at all costs, even if you wanted to give him some advice on their plays, or hand him a towel after practice. your brother didn't bothered with those small things, but it was exasperating to you.

"do you know if kageyama-kun has problems at home?" kindaichi had accompanied the kunimi siblings on their way home, with the excuse of having a project to do with akira. you, right between of them, gained weird looks from both.

"i don't think so" aswered kindaichi, kunimi couldn't care less about his troubles at home, instead, he caught on a detail.

"since when he's kageyama-kun?"

"he has always been kageyama-kun"

"no, only coach calls him that" to your silence, he scrunched his nose in a a disgusted mock "maybe that's why he doesn't like you"

"he doesn't like me!?" the two boys laughed at your reaction, there were few people allowed to hear akira's laugh, both you and kindaichi were glad to be one of them.

that conversation stuck in your brain through the day, and the one after, even at practice. you never gave it much thought to it, but now you realized how everyone showed kageyama a funny amount of respect, your classmates on the very edge of calling him '-sama'. if that is what he's used to, no wonder he didn't like you. your mind had gone through a complete rollercoaster, triggered by coach asking you to deliver a few papers to your upperclassman. when you finally divised him, sitting alone in his homeroom, you gulped nervously.

"um, hey, uh, coach asked me to give you this, so, there it is... kageyama-san" be aware, kageyama instantly knew something was bothering you. despite his dark aura, you always treated him like an equal, not being affraid of talking to him or call him less formal honorifics. he liked that, a lot. you, in your own way, made him feel normal.

as you handed him the papers with new game strategies, your eyes met his. your whole body paralyzed, being unable to let go of the pieces both of you were grabbing.

"don't call me that" his mouth spoke by itself, followed by a subtle blush on his cheeks.

"what?" now you were flustered, and your unconscious aggressive response made kageyama feel more nervous than he already was.

"well, y-you used to call me, uh, kageyama-kun, and n–"

"oh! i thought– nevermind, it's not important, kageyama-kun".

tobio had to pinch his arm to erase the smile on his face the rest of the day.

*.✧☆ﾟ.*･｡✧*⊰⊹ฺ

the team had grown apart, everyone could see that. more than once you argued with the coach, who stated that as long as they won, nothing else mattered. you disagreed. akira usually spoke with kindaichi about how tired they were of keeping up with "the king in the court", how they called kageyama, sicked by his selfish way of playing. they weren't wrong, kageyama lived up to his reputation, but nobody tried to help him either.

"he's fourteen! he needs help and you should give it to him! stop being a lousy coach and do something! you were there for oikawa senpai, be there for kageyama!" the coach was fond of you, but he was done with your constant yelling and reprimanding.

"if you don't like how i do things, you're welcome to leave" and you did. you left the team you loved as a family, shoving the feeling of impotence down your throat.

that was nothing compared to your fight with your brother hours after coach gave them the news, one of the few times he actually worried and got involved in your doings.

"the only way for you to go to aoba jōsai is through a scholarship! a scholarship which coach decides who recommend or not!" your house was filled with screams, an unusual situation in the kunimi household.

"i can't stand by when you're basically bullying kageyama and coach lets you!"

"stop being dumb and don't risk your future because of that jerk!"

"you're more of a jerk than he is, akira!"

it ended with you ignoring your brother for almost a week, and he doing the same. if there was one thing he was, besides lazy, was prideful. and you weren't behind in that topic.

kageyama, who had a habit of watching you through the day, could see that too. it was none of his business, he knew that, but you seemed so upset...

"hey, uh, kunimi-chan" he sat beside you during lunch break, he was aware that you had lunch in the yard and not in the cafeteria, looking for a quieter place.

"call me y/n, please" despite being angry at the world, you did your best to treat him nicely. he needed someone nice in his life.

"y/n" he muttered, more to himself than to you "i'm, i noticed that... you're upset, i wanted to make sure you are okay" he was so innocently sweet, you thought, you couldn't escape a smile.

"it's been a rough week" you answered, not wanting to say why you fought coach and akira.

"i know a thing or two about rough weeks" so it did bother him what his teammates were doing. a small feeling of relief went through your body, you weren't fighting a lost cause. both stayed silence for a few minutes, before you spoke.

"i'm sorry" he looked at you, confused "for akira and kindaichi". out of nowhere, he laughed, and your heart skipped a beat.

"you don't have to apologize for what your brother does, it's not your fault he's not good enough to keep up with me". there it was, the usual kageyama. despite of the sour flavor of hearing someone talk down on your idiot brother, you giggled, his honesty was quite entertaining.

"i meant... nothing, it's fine" that was the longest conversation kageyama had had with anyone outside of the court in a long time "i have to go" it was true, you were meeting a teacher for extra credit, he looked at you walking away, and blushed when you turned around catching him. "thanks for caring" and with that, you left.

he didn't know what it meant the marathon his heart was running, or his sweaty hands, or that smile glued on his face. he hoped it was something good.

*.✧☆ﾟ.*･｡✧*⊰⊹ฺ

the third years were finally graduating, yūtarō couldn't shut up about it. akira was kind enough, a rare act on your brother, to let him talk all he wanted. last day of school, but kageyama was nowhere around, making hard your wish to congratulate him. looking through the hallways on every floor, you heard a conversation between two girls.

"what is the volleyball team going to do without their stars now?" one teased.

"don't be silly, after their last game, i doubt they can play together anymore" you knew they lost their last game, but akira said it was nothing. curiosity burning in your lungs, you had to ask the girls what they were talking about. "the spikers left the setter by himself, the wouldn't hit any ball, like, on purpose".

oh you were going to kill akira, he had gone to far. but most importantly, you had to find kageyama. thirty minutes later, you found him sitting in a stair just as the last bell rang. he was officially a high schooler now. to see him, sitting alone, hoping anybody would find him, broke your heart into tiny pieces.

"congratulations, kageyama senpai" you spoke taking a place by his side. he wasn't his usual self with you.

"you don't have to" he was sulking hard.

"but i want to" his eyes opened wide when your two arms wrapped his shoulders into a warm hug. no one outside his family ever hug him. he stayed there, enjoying the closeness while trying to avoid the fact that a girl, no, you were hugging him. "what highschool are you going?" kageyama's hope went too far up, hoping to see you at his new highschool someday.

"karasuno".

"i guess i'll see you there, then".

⌙𝟐𝟎𝟎 𝐟𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 🥳

[thedeevirus]

Nygmobblepot Ficlet; ‘The Direct Approach’

And now for a break in your holiday cheer; an angsty Nygmobblepot fic featuring Batman. Hope you all enjoy! ***

The candles flickered and Oswald felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise. On the wall in front of him loomed a foreboding silhouette.

‘Let me guess’, Oswald said, not turning around, ‘He’s not coming. You couldn’t have shown up to tell me that any sooner?’

‘Where’s Riddler?’ the dark figure asked quietly.

Oswald took a sip of whiskey to moisten his throat. Even though he and the so-called Batman had an arrangement, a truce of sorts, the vigilante remained an intimidating figure. He was grateful he had given the staff the night off. The last thing he needed was more traumatised bouncers and waiters.

‘Merry Christmas to you too’, he replied, ‘Help yourself, there’s plenty’.

Batman didn’t even seem to notice the lavish (albeit increasingly cold) feast laid out in front of Oswald as he walked into the Penguin’s line of view. Oswald avoided Batman’s hard stare and distracted himself by mentally listing the items displayed on the table; a turkey with stuffing, mashed potatoes, cranberry sauce-

‘Where. Is. Riddler?’

‘I. Heard. You. The. First. Time’, Oswald said, irritated at Batman’s theatrics, ‘He’s exactly where he promised me that he wouldn’t be, at the exact time he promised he would be here enjoying this little dinner I spent all afternoon preparing’.

He scowled at the table. Okay his personal chef had prepared it but Oswald had paid him handsomely for the privilege and he had set the table himself. Fat lot of good it had done. They had only started celebrating Christmas at Ed’s suggestion in the first place. Oswald hadn’t done it since his mother had passed years ago. She had insisted on putting up a tree every year. Despite being raised Jewish, she had loved the lights, proclaiming, ‘So twinkly! So beautiful! Like a storybook!’ Another person he loved missing from the table. Oswald’s frustration finally gave him the courage to glare at Batman directly.

‘Couldn’t you have taken one night off?!’

‘He’s taken hostages’.

‘Nobody I know’, Oswald shrugged, ‘Try again’.

 Batman’s eyes lingered on the tall ice sculpture Oswald had selected as a centrepiece for the table. The carved leaping penguin’s eyes seemed to widen under the ‘Dark Knight’s’ threatening glare and the long neck (already melting) suddenly seemed very fragile and the head very heavy. Batman’s leathery fists tightened.

 ‘Look, can we at least discuss this civilly?’ Oswald said, half rising as he understood the threat, ‘I’m sure we can come to an arrangement. ‘Tis the season of goodwill after all’.

‘What do you want?’ Batman asked, folding his arms.

‘I’ll tell you where Ed is, you get the hostages then you let him go’, Oswald said, ‘He comes here to me and you leave us alone. A Christmas amnesty’.

 ‘Not both of you’.

 ‘Then no deal’, Oswald sniffed haughtily, even as his mind raced to come up with an alternative solution, ‘I’m sure he’s sent you one of his envelopes so you’d better get deciphering. Before it’s too late’.

Batman threw something onto the table. A blackened piece of card. Oswald picked it up and could just about make out the GCPD address on it written in Ed’s handwriting. Oswald’s heart sank.

 ‘It was disguised as a Christmas bonus paycheque. Two officers are in the hospital. I can’t ignore this’.

 Oswald gritted his teeth. It was part of their deal. Oswald would not target the GCPD and Batman would turn a blind eye to some of his ‘less savoury’ activities. Oswald had made Ed promise to avoid the GCPD as well, omitting the part about Batman and instead emphasising the logic of such a position. Why attract that level of attention? Why pain a target on your back? It had taken a long conversation but Ed had finally promised Oswald that he wouldn’t target the GCPD. He had promised. Oswald dropped his gaze and inadvertently caught sight of Ed’s empty chair at the table. Just like he had promised he would never miss another dinner.

 Batman extended a hand for the card and Oswald exploded, flinging it at him.

 ‘And whose fault is that?! Up until you started lurking on rooftops, he was stable! Oh fine maybe not ‘stable’ but at least he listened to me! Kept things low key! But now beating you is all he cares about!’

 ‘I don’t have time for his games’, Batman growled dismissively.

 Oswald threw his whiskey glass at the wall. It shattered, casting crystalline fragments around like Christmas confetti. Batman did not react which only made Oswald angrier.

 ‘You think I haven’t told him that?! You and I both know there are far worse things for you to occupy yourself with now instead of Ed. Gotham was always crazy but ever since you flew back into town, it’s gotten worse than ever!’

 Oswald’s words rang throughout the Iceberg Lounge. He stiffened, realising what he had just admitted. He bit his tongue, furious that he had left his ace in the hole slip out but conscious that the only move was to keep going.

 ‘Oh, do I detect surprise beneath the mask?’ he teased with a confidence he did not feel, ‘Yes. I know who you really are. Only one person would have enough money to waste on nonsense like this. And be crazy enough to waste it on Gotham’.

 Oswald knew he was bluffing. Batman’s face (what he could see of it) had remained completely impassive. He might as well have been made of stone. Oswald knew from experience that his punches certainly felt like it.

 ‘You seem sure of your theory’, Batman said.

 The corner of his mouth had kinked. Oswald didn’t know if it was a smile or not. He also didn’t know if it was a good or bad thing.

 Oswald laughed bitterly.

 ‘Don’t worry, I know nobody will ever believe me. I’m not like Ed. I have nothing to prove and I know when I’m outgunned. Besides, if you are who I think you are, I always had a soft spot for you. We’re both orphans after all. Though we seem to have coped with that in drastically different ways’.

Batman’s ‘smile’ vanished.

 ‘You said you could keep Nygma under control’, he said, the barest hint of accusation in his tone.

 Oswald was surprised to feel shame filling the pit of his stomach at Batman’s disappointed air. He filled another glass with whiskey and knocked it back in one swig. The damned holidays always made him sentimental.

 ‘I used to be able to’, he said quietly, ‘He was taking his medication and we set time aside for date…’ He sniffed hard and chuckled. ‘Why am I even telling you this? It’s not like you care’.

‘I care about innocent people getting hurt. Maybe assuming you would too is giving you too much credit but you obviously care about Nygma. Get him to stop these games and he gets the same deal you do’.

 Oswald shook his head, looking defeated.

‘I haven’t told him about our little arrangement. He’ll never agree to help you. And he won’t stop. It’s who he is. He’s a genius. He’s the Riddler’.

‘Who hasn’t figured out you’re working with me’.

Oswald slammed the glass down, stung by the taunt. And by his own dishonesty. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Ed! It was just…easier to be flexible. You had to be practical in this town! There were rules! At least there used to be. Oswald still had rules.

‘Only because he trusts me! I can’t betray him! I won’t!’

 Oswald bit his lip. His voice had cracked treacherously. He inhaled and exhaled slowly. He needed to regain control. Needed to maintain his dignity.

 ‘If you love him, you need to put his needs before your own. He needs help’.

 Oswald turned away. His eyes were moist. He cursed his decision to only use the table candles for illumination. He knew now how Ed could hate Batman so much. Hate him being right.

 ‘You save people’, Oswald said though gritted teeth, ‘Can you save him?’

 ‘He belongs in Arkham’.

The tone was gentler than Oswald knew he deserved but he couldn’t prevent a shuddering sigh from escaping his mouth. Hearing the same thought that had been building and building for weeks spoken aloud was jarring. Was Batman telepathic? There were stranger things in Gotham.

Oswald’s artificial eye ached. It always did when he was stressed and it and it had been getting worse. Just like Ed’s delusions had been getting worse. The obsessions, hallucinations, irritability, lack of self-care, insomnia… Oswald had found his meds in the trash that morning. Unopened for the last two weeks. Ed had sworn he had been taking them. It turned out they were both liars. Oswald looked at Batman and realised with horror that Batman was waiting for Oswald’s response. For his permission. And Oswald’s skin crawled at the relief he felt.

 ‘Is it true that y-that the Wayne Foundation has changed things there?’ Oswald asked.

 He locked eyes with Batman. Searching them. He wasn’t sure if he was looking for honesty or the opposite. He had the awful feeling he was just looking for some way out. Something to help him do what he had to. He loved Ed. He did. But he wasn’t what Ed needed right now.

 ‘Yes’.

 Oswald could endure Ed’s resentment. Even his hate. He had been on the receiving end before. He could do it again. He would do it a thousand times as long as Ed was safe. His artificial eye impossibly pulsed in its socket. He struggled to stop his eye twitching.

 ‘Do you trust the people there?’

‘Yes’.

‘And-and you promise he won’t get hurt? I know he’ll try to hurt you but he’s not a fighter and you know that so please don’t-‘

 Batman held up a gloved hand. Oswald blinked hard as the metallic knuckles on the material caught the light.

‘I promise I won’t hurt him’, Batman said.

 Oswald was startled to find he believed it. And heartbroken that he could believe that more than anything Ed had said recently.

He sat back down in his chair, both hands clasped around his now empty glass.

‘He’s hiding in the old Gotham Gazette office in The Narrows’, Oswald said robotically, ‘There are tripwires at the entrance and the vents are mined but the passcode to his bunker is 1690. Apparently, it’s when the first issue of Publick Occurrences was published‘.

 Batman lifted his arm and began to input what Oswald assumed were coordinates into a hidden compartment in the suit. There was an affirmative beep. To Oswald it sounded like a death knell. He leant down hard on his knees. They were shaking.

‘He’ll know you told me’, Batman said.

 Oswald sneered at the subtle concern in Batman’s voice. Oh now he cared?! How touching. Nobody else did.

‘How? You going to tell him?’

‘No’.

‘Then he’ll just assume you figured it out’, Oswald shrugged savagely, ‘He always says you’re the world’s greatest detective. High praise. Though I’m sure some of those fancy toys give you an edge’.

‘He doesn’t share your theory about who I really am?’

 ‘The answer’s too obvious for him to accept. The one time I told him about it, he thought I was making a joke at his expense. Now get out of here. He gets antsy when he thinks he’s being ignored and I have a mess to clean up’.

 Oswald turned away, signalling that the exchange was over. He leant his elbows on the table, feeling tired and drained.

‘I’ll arrange visitation rights for you’.

 ‘I’m sure you’ll come up with some way for me to return the favour’, Oswald snarled, ‘Now for the last time, get out’.

 Why couldn’t Batman just leave him alone?! What else did he expect Oswald to do?! Wasn’t Ed enough for him?! The only person Oswald cared about?! Did he want him gift wrapped?!

 ‘No need. I know how it feels to miss someone on Christmas’.

 Oswald did not reply and he did not try to catch Batman leaving as he usually did. There was no point.

 The sympathy in Batman’s words should have infuriated him. Batman’s audacity should have had him reaching for the umbrella gun concealed beneath the table. He should have been wondering if his theory about the vigilante’s true identity was indeed correct. 

But he was just too damn tired.

He wanted another drink. He wanted to go to bed and just pass out. He wanted to have never made the stupid dinner in the first place. He wanted Ed. The Ed he loved back.  He needed him here. With him.

 But he had never gotten what he wanted for Christmas.

[thechindiannerd280]

Unthinkable Actions (Ficlet)

Hello! I hope y’all liked my last fic because I enjoyed writing it! I’m writing another short fic because I feel like writing this week so here’s a little look into how and why the Dowager killed her son and tried to kill her grandson. Enjoy and as usual, please comment or send ideas :)

As the afternoon sun shone through the windows, the Dowager took a seat at her desk. She really did enjoy basking in the sunlight, but today was different. She had much to get through and since nobody was around at the moment, she thought it was the best opportunity to send Linthorn a letter. Linthorn. She really did wish she didn’t need him again, but duty called and he was the only person who was ruthless enough to do what others wouldn’t do for her. Additionally, he shared the same political views as she did, making their connection much more practical. She couldn’t believe how many progressives there were, regardless of class or occupation and it was especially frustrating that her own family was headed in that direction. That concerned her greatly. What would happen to society? The nobility? Their lands and estate? Those questions plagued her every waking hour.

As she stared at the far wall thinking of what she wanted to write, the Dowager thought of all the events that transpired over the past couple months. The Reform Bill. That damned bill. She grimaced, thinking of what would happen if the common people could vote. What did they know about politics or anything at all for that matter? Worst of all, why would her family support such things? For centuries, the marquesses of Basilwether proudly performed their duties as members of the nobility by engaging at court or in Parliament and grew extremely wealthy over the generations. In fact, they were one of the wealthiest noble families in the nation. She was very proud of her lineage, and vowed to protect it at all costs. Little did she know she would have to protect it from members of her own family. She sighed, turning her head towards a medium sized portrait on the far left. A beautiful woman in a flowing evening dress and a young boy of about 10 years old stared back at her. Harold. Her eldest son and quite possibly the stupidest. From a young age he always was disturbed by the ills of society, having learned about them through novels and occasional trips to London. Most of his teen and adult life was dedicated to pushing change and the Dowager tolerated it until recently. His support of the Reform Bill was her final straw with him and she couldn’t just sit and watch Basilwether crumble to pieces because of his feelings towards others’ wellbeing.

In all honesty, she felt guilty. Not for killing him, but for not regretting it. If England was preserved, it could do without him and his vote. The rest of the family was truly devastated and she played the game, even by wearing mourning clothes for a longer period for heaven's sake! However, she knew the mourning clothes would have to stay on because she needed to accomplish her next goal, one possibly more sinister than the last: kill her grandson. Once that was accomplished, the estate and seat would go to Whimbrel. She didn’t entirely trust him, as he had some sympathies for progression and his experience in the military gave him a different outlook, but she knew she could rely on him to at least vote against the bill. Now, onto her grandson. William Tewksbury. She loved him. He was such a sweet child, always caring about the well being of others and always taking time out of his day to do something kind. He was also very quiet and shy, much in contrast to his loud and boisterous father and uncle. She loved him and raising him was truly a privilege no other parent or grandparent had. Now he is almost a man, having turned 16 in the past year and already looking so much like his father. And thinking like him apparently.

Turning back towards the paper after pondering for a long time, the Dowager picked up her pen and began to write:

Dear Linthorn,

I hope this letter finds you well. I would like to thank you for your service to me, my family, and most importantly, England. I was hoping that we would part ways, but another urgent issue has arised. My grandson is a progressive. Not just a progressive, but he has made it clear that he wishes to vote for the Reform Bill as well. Now, I don’t want you to be mistaken. I will not ask you to kill every lord that votes for the bill, but I ask you to kill my grandson like you did his father. Not for me, but for England. I will ensure that you are paid very generously, more so than last time, but I hope you agree to my terms. If you ultimately decide to help me again, please send a letter and we shall arrange plans. In the meantime, I will wait and think as I do not want my family suspecting anything regarding foul play.

Sincerely,

Dowager Catherine Tewksbury of Basilwether

There. She did it. After carefully folding the paper and sealing it in an envelope, the Dowager signalled for a servant to take it away and mail it. As the envelope left her hands, she felt a huge weight being lifted off her frail shoulders. Before she could leave the study, she heard laughter outside the window. She made her way slowly to see what was happening and there he was, glowing in the afternoon sun as he walked with his mother. She smiled sadly, thinking of all the wonderful moments they spent together as grandmother and grandson. She truly loved him and never in her life thought that one day she would end his life but as monstrous as it seemed, she would do so with no hesitation to preserve the system which she vowed to protect.

As the teen and his mother disappeared into the gardens, she placed her fingers on the window and took a deep breath.

“I am so sorry, my darling.”

[bladesoflightandshadow]

indefinitely [lucas/mc]

note: hi! hello! i wrote another thing! finally! this one was actually supposed to be part of a series of ficlets based on a prompt list which i abandoned, but i think it holds its own well enough to post. i know the ‘character has bad dreams and has their partner comfort them’ trope is way overdone when it comes to the it lives series but like.....i love these two too much not to try

pairing: lucas x mc (everett walker)

word count: 1,947

warnings: discussions of trauma & anxiety, though nothing you haven’t already seen if you’ve read ilitw.

tagged: @teja-desai

summary: a late night talk with lucas has everett re-evaluating his feelings.

.  .  .  .  .

Everett learned quickly at the start of his and Lucas’s relationship that they’re both restless sleepers.

For Lucas, it’s always been like this—worrying about what he has to do in the day ahead or the day after tomorrow or what he did the day before and what went wrong and what could go wrong all keep him up—so sometimes he doesn’t bother with sleep at all, and it’s only made worse by the events of homecoming their senior year.

For Everett, it started in the weeks leading up to the homecoming incident. Despite numerous sleeping aids and therapy and God knows what else, sleep often feels like a trap he needs to outsmart, with memories of that night and of what Noah did and what he did always just in his periphery, waiting for the right time to strike.

Not to say that what happened didn’t affect their group of friends too, if seeing another one of them have a breakdown about it every week after the incident was any indication. But Everett never could shake the roiling guilt of feeling responsible for what happened to them—to his friends, to Jane, to Noah.

And it’s these thoughts that plague him while he’s lying awake in bed tonight, staring up at the ceiling.

When it becomes hard to breathe, he kicks his sheets away and paces the room, hugging himself as a sudden chill crawls up his spine. Everett contemplates going for a walk to clear his mind, but one look at the woods outside and just the thought of being anywhere near them makes him physically sick. He grabs his phone from his nightstand and sees that it’s 3 A.M. Knowing Lucas, he’s probably awake at this time too. Everett considers texting him to see if he’s awake, but his thumbs hover over the keyboard, worried that if Lucas is asleep, the sound might wake him up.

Before he can decide, though, a text appears on his phone screen, the sound startling him into dropping his phone. When he picks it up—unbroken, thank God, he can’t afford to ask for a new one—he sees that it’s from Lucas, seemingly having just read his mind.

Can’t sleep. Thinking about you.

He feels himself smile, almost involuntarily, as he types out a reply. When are you not thinking about me?

Ha. Then, after a beat: Rarely, to be fair.

Everett steps towards his bed and falls back onto it. I am a pretty good distraction, aren’t I?

Only the best. Everett sighs, momentarily forgetting why he was unable to sleep in the first place.

Lucas sends him another text. Can I call you? I miss your voice.

You spoke to me in person earlier today.

And what about it?

He closes the messaging app and finds Lucas’s number in his recent call history, the name in his contacts plastered with heart emotes. Lucas picks up almost immediately.

“Hey,” Everett says, quietly so as to not rouse his parents in the next room.

“Hey,” Lucas responds. “Sorry if I’m bothering you.”

Everett lifts his arm to cover his face, sighing slightly. “Nah, I was already awake. I was thinking of calling you too.”

Lucas hums in response. There’s a near-imperceptible edge to his voice, and he’s clearly agitated—more than usual, anyway. Everett asks him what’s wrong.

“Nothing?” A pause, in which Everett hopes to communicate the sentiment of, I know you too well. Don’t lie to me. “…Yeah, okay. Something’s wrong. It’s… it’s stupid.”

“Everything about our lives these past few months has been stupid,” Everett says, shifting around on the bed so that he’s under his duvet again. “Nothing you say can surprise me.”

Lucas lets out a half-hearted chuckle. “I suppose not.” He hesitates, then sighs. “It’s just… It’s the first time I’ve been home alone in a while. My dad’s away on some business trip and my mom is staying with family for the night, so I’m the only person in the house, which makes overthinking every sound I hear or every shadow I see a lot easier.” He sighs again. “It’s…childish, I know.”

“No, it’s not. Trust me. I… I get it.” Everett bites his lip, unsure of how else to reassure him when he’s not feeling any braver himself.

At his lack of response, Lucas asks, “What about you? Why are you awake?”

A pause. Everett closes his eyes, takes a deep breath. “Oh, you know, the usual. Just trying to stave away the feeling of overwhelming guilt and fear over letting my childhood friends get hurt at the hands of a powerful supernatural being, two of which are now dead, while said supernatural being is probably still out there somewhere.”

There’s a silence that stretches on a beat too long. Everett starts chewing on his lower lip. “Sorry. That was too much.”

“No,” Lucas tells him. “No, you’re allowed to express how you’re feeling, even if it is through really morbid jokes.”

“Who says I was joking?”

He falls quiet again, and Everett’s worried he went too far this time, until he speaks again. “It’s not your fault, you know.”

Everett breathes in, slowly, shakily. “I know,” he whispers. “I know. Everyone keeps telling me. I know. But I also can’t fucking convince myself to believe it. So I don’t know. I don’t know anything.”

“Hey.” There’s rustling on Lucas’s end. It sounds like he’s getting out of bed, or sitting up. “Do you want us to talk about something else?”

“Yes, please.” Everett thinks for a moment, rattling his brain for conversation topics. “Where’s your dog?”

“Tolkien?” More rustling on the other line as Lucas presumably moves to look for the terrier. “He’s sleeping on the floor next to me.”

“So you’re not really home alone after all.”

“I suppose. But Tolkien’s an old man. I don’t think he can do much to protect me.”

“I still can’t believe your parents let you name him that.”

He lets out a snort. “In all fairness, I was nine.”

Everett takes reprieve in the conversation shift, letting himself retreat into their usual banter. “You must’ve thought you were such a smartass, naming him after a writer that was way above everyone else’s reading level at the time.”

“You joke, but that was probably my exact thought process,” Lucas says, a smile in his voice. “Also, this is rich coming from the guy who named his cat Cattywampus.”

“Wampus is a business professional and she does not take well to your mockery.” Lucas laughs, the sound soft but genuine, and Everett allows himself to ease into the warmth of it.

Slowly, the fear that had kept them both awake fades into an afterthought, as they let the conversation carry them through to the early hours of the morning. When Everett wakes up, he’s relieved to find that one of them had, wittingly or not, ended the call before they fell asleep. His phone reads 11:36 A.M., and his heart jumps to his throat for a moment before he realises it’s a Saturday.

Almost without thinking, he taps Lucas’s name on his phone to call him again.

“Good morning, sleeping beauty,” he answers, almost annoyingly chipper. Even when he’s barely gotten any sleep, Lucas can never bring himself to wake up later than 9 A.M., something Everett’s had to learn the hard way.

“Mornin’,” Everett murmurs through a yawn. “God, how are you such a morning person?”

He can hear the clattering of pots and pans from Lucas’s end. “Hmm, I guess it’s hard not to be one when I get to hear your voice first thing in the morning,” he says.

Everett roll his eyes, but even the tiredness can’t fend off his smile. “You didn’t even know I was gonna call you.”

“Wishful thinking?” More clattering. “I’m making breakfast. Or brunch, I guess. Do you want to come over?”

Groaning, Everett pulls the covers over his head to block the sunlight streaming directly onto his face. “Give me, like, an hour to feel alive again and then I’ll be there.”

“Alright. Let me know when you’re near.”

“I will. I love you.”

It goes quiet on Lucas’s line. Everett half expects him to have hung up, but one glance at his phone tells him he’s still there. There’s a long, long pause as Lucas takes in what he just said, and as Everett wakes up enough to realise what he just said.

“Oh,” he stutters. “Oh—shit, I’m sorry, that was…I know you said you wanted to take things slow, and I—agh, I’m sorry, Lucas—”

“Stop,” Lucas says, and his tone is gentle, but Everett’s heart still freezes in place. “Did you mean it?”

It takes him a few moments to collect his thoughts. Even in his morning bleariness, Everett knows the answer with clarity. Who else does he know that makes him feel this safe—this calm? Who else would Everett, without even thinking, want to call first thing in the morning, when he knows he sounds like absolute hell? Who else does he trust this much?

He breathes in, letting the feeling wash over him, and he wills his heart to calm down just long enough for him to speak.

“Yeah,” Everett exhales, and something like relief floods out of him. “Yeah. I did mean it.”

In all honesty, part of him had known for a while, yet there was always something, some nagging feeling putting him off from admitting it. They’d talked before about how they wanted to take things slow after everything that happened—to handle this relationship with the care it deserved, at least until they got to a point where things weren’t so fraught.

Yet, despite the anxiety that had kept him tossing and turning last night, Everett feels calmer than he’s been in weeks. Like Lucas’s mere presence through the phone were enough of a remedy for his nerves. His pulse is still hammering, but there’s no fear.

“Good. Because I love you too,” Lucas says, and he sounds… like he’s in awe of the fact. “I’ve known for a while. I just… I didn’t want to say it too soon, especially after I told you I wanted to take things slow…”

Everett is suddenly wide awake, unable to shake the giddy smile from his face. They both take a few moments to just bask in the revelation, the quiet between them profound and full of warmth. Love. They love each other. No holding back.

“You jerk,” Everett says suddenly. “You were waiting for me to say it first so you wouldn’t feel weird about it.”

On the other end, Lucas laughs, brightly, a sound Everett doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of. “And what are you going to do about it?”

“Uhh, hold it over your head for the rest of our lives?” He’s smiling so much his face aches. “Face it, Thomas, you weren’t man enough to say it first.”

“Pfft, you only said it on accident.”

“I at least demand a consolation prize!”

There’s movement on Lucas’s end, the scraping of a chair as he sits down. “Fine. Whatever you want, name it.”

Everett bites the inside of his cheek, lifting his free hand up to cover his face like it might stop the unadulterated joy from spilling out. His head is spinning. Is this what love is?

“Just keep saying it. That you love me.”

“That’s it?” There’s a smile in Lucas’s voice, too, like he can’t stop himself either. “Just keep telling you I love you, indefinitely?”

“Indefinitely. Yeah.” Everett laughs. “For as long as you can.”

And he does.

[timelordvictoiouspartyof1]

Just One Dance and Bucky

Christmas!Strip series

A/N: This is going to be part of a Christmas series. If I can get my life together I’ll make a master list. I plan on writing for Tenth Doctor, Twelfth Doctor, Dean Winchester, Bucky Barnes. I would love it if anyone wants to submit their ficlets. The only constraints are 1. It being a Christmas story, 2. Whatever song you want (put it in there so we can look it up), and 3. a strip. You can write fluff to smut, I’ll tag it when I master list it. This is part of my Rules were made… series, Click the bold letters!!!!

Summary: Set around Christmas party dancing, the song Amazing Day by Coldplay and a strip tease.

Word: Count: 1800+

Warnings: None.

  The party was drawing on and it had just started. At least it felt that way to Bucky. It was a work event for you, the annual Christmas party. Because you were an owner Wanda told you that you were not allowed to miss it. It was formal, the company was growing and Wanda had wanted to make a statement of elegance for potential clients. Besides, how could a wedding, which was essentially a big party, planning company not have the most exquisite gathering. Bucky had agreed to let you host it at his house and so there he stood at the back of the room alone. He scanning the room for any threats, as was his usual, knowing there wasn’t a chance of that. No one was stupid enough to try anything at his house.

His eyes finally fell on you as he heard you laughing. You were breathtaking. He always thought that, but tonight you looked so beautiful and the little bits of extra skin showing was driving him crazy. He walked over to you, putting his hand on the small of you back and leaning in to whisper. “The way you look tonight is mind blowing.” You felt your cheeks warm as you blushed, it took effort to hide the grin trying to give away his words. “I want to get you out of that dress and run my hands along your skin properly.”

You gave a small giggle and pulled back a bit. You noticed the rest of the people you had been standing with had turned their attention towards you and the devastatingly handsome whispering god knows what into your ear. “Well, Mr. Barnes, I’m sure we ca have that arranged. As you know here at Perfect Day we always strive to make anything possible, given enough time.” You smiled at him devilishly.

The blue of his eyes now hidden with a black lust, “Well, since my request can’t be attained now, maybe a dance with one of the owners will quell my desire.”

You smiled graciously at the guests as you took his hand to be led to the dance floor. As soon as you were out of ear shot you started laughing, the sound gripping Bucky’s heart and fueling the fire of his lust further. Before you could get top the dance floor one of the caterers pulled you away from Bucky, the promise of only being a minute falling from your lips. Unfortunately the rest of the night went like that. Him whispering to you how he wanted his hands or lips on your bare flesh or if he couldn’t get away with that he was practically begging you for a dance. It usually ended in him offering to refresh your drink or someone turning to him asking him what he did for a living. You always loved watching Bucky squirm as he manipulated words as to not tell the whole truth. Tonight he was a business man, head of a company that spread country wide.

He was never pushy in his requests. He knew this was important to you and he would never rush you, even with the pleading in his voice for his desires to come to fruition, you knew time was your to spend. Hours later the party had started to thin. He walked over to you with a fresh drink, having to hold his hand out to steady you a little. Only he noticed, you were always proper and you would never consume so much that it made you sloppy. But he did notice. He kept his hand on your back as he joined the conversation. Everyone else was drunk too so it didn’t take much to excuse you away from the conversation.

You noticed he wasn’t leading you to the dance floor. He was leading you out the room and down the hall to his bedroom. “Oh, I know what’s about to happen here.” You giggled suggestively. Spilling some of your drink on the floor as you turned to face him. He ran his bottom lip through his teeth before quietly responding, “Doll, you have no idea.” You started giggling again as you walked backwards into his room, grabbing fistful of his jacket to pull him in with you. He kicked the door closed behind him. You only noticed the full bottle of champagne in his hand when he raised it to his lips, a devilish lust in his eyes as his stare bore into you.

You set your own glass down on the ledge behind you, a little more forcefully than intended and moved towards him. His arm wrapped around your lower back pulling you in and you took the bottle from him, taking pull from it. “I believe you owe me a dance, Mr. Barnes, of a country wide conglomerate.” You wrapped both arms around his neck resting the bottle between his shoulders.

“I won’t remind you what it is you owe me. What you swore to me, in a room of people I might add, that you would surely attain for me.” He kissed you passionately, you moaned into his lips. You hated this bottle now it was keeping you from getting your hands on him. You pushed away to set it down. He grabbed your arm, pulling it from your hand and taking another sip. His hand dropped from your arm as he walked to set the bottle down and started some music. When he got back to you he took you back in his arms, the palm of your hands pressed to his muscular chest. “Have I told you your beauty absolutely wrecks me? It makes my heart ache that you could give me a second look.” You swallowed hard, trying not to tear up. It was late and you were drunk. You were always poised and rarely let your emotions control you. But sometimes when it was late enough, and he was sweet enough, he could pull the truth from you in more than words.

He sauntered slowly back towards you. When he reached you he took both your hands in his, lacing you fingers in his “Maybe, but I can always hear it again.” His hands came up to cup you face as he kissed you softly. You fingers traveled up to his chest. Your fingers with a mind of their own started unbuttoning. After a few minutes you rested your forehead against his as he held you swaying back and forth.

He whispered in your ear, “Now that I’ve had you, I don’t ever want to spend another Christmas without you.” his fingers traveling slowly down your back. When he reached the zipper on your skirt he slid it down. A chill ran up your legs as it fell to the floor.

You pressed kisses to his neck and collar bone. Your fingers found their way under his t-shirt, across his the muscles just above his belt before you found the clasp and made quick work of it. “But, my love,” you breathed out in between kisses, “it isn’t Christmas yet.” You heard the metal of his belt buckle clank when it hit the floor.

He kissed into your lips again. You rose up on your tip toes and fisted the fabric of his shifts trying to get close enough. A tear fell down your cheek when your eyes closed so tightly. This was perfect. He was moving so slowly, his hands roaming up and down your arms. When you balance faltered, the kiss broke and you were flat on your feet again.  His right hands combed through your hair and he stared into your eyes. You ran your fingers up his chest and over his shoulders. Pushing his shirt off and adding it to the collection on the floor. “This holiday has already more than I have ever could have imagined.”

You traced lines on his chest, looking down not knowing what to say. In all honesty, your buzz was fading and fatigue was setting in, but nothing could drag you away from this perfect moment. You fingers ran carefully over his shoulder where flesh met metal. You stared the shirt as your fingers danced along. Bucky refused to look. His jaw was tight and he swallowed hard.

Without warning you gripped the hem and pulled his shirt over his head. His head turned slightly away, eyes cast down, “You don’t hav-.” His chest rose heavy, a delay in his exhale. His eyes red, brimming with tears. He had never felt more exposed. “You don’t have to do this.”

You pressed fingers from your free hand to his lips gently. “shhh, my love.” Your fingers and your eyes traced every scar, every bit of uneven and marred flesh.  Your hand slide down the cold steel and you laid his hand on your back, quickly returning to the work of memorizing all the things that were yours. You closed your eyes and moved your finger slowly but diligently over every inch. You were leaning his body by touch, soon you would be able read every inch of him like a blind man reading brail. After tonight it would become a habit of yours to always sleep with your fingers pressed to this spot, because you knew it was yours alone. Because this was intimate, more intimate than he had ever been with anyone his whole life. In your distraction of learning the learning his body like a second language you missed his other hand wrapping itself around you and unzipping your top. When you finally opened out eyes and shook your thought back you reality you dropped your hands letting the garment off.

Your bodies were still swaying to the music when he ran a hand under your butt and picked you up, you responded by wrapping your legs around his waist. “You can’t do things like that to me, doll. Your making me feel all exposed.”

You smiled and giggled a little as he laid you on the bed and climbed over you. He was resting on his elbows looking down at you. “You feel exposed? You just made me dance with you, and in the process you took my clothes off. I’m pretty sure dancing and taking your clothes off is the definition of a strip tease.”

He kissed your nose and rolled off of you. “The first of many I hope.” His smile was pure, untainted. He rolled over to turn off the lamp, turning back to you but you were already asleep. “Merry Christmas, beautiful. I love you.” he whispered, for the very first time.

[tehnardier]

The Guilty Ones — Steve Harrington

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Reader

Words: 1863

Request: “May I please request a ficlet with the headcanon of the morning after your first time together?” by @sgarrett49

Summary: Y/N has a one night stand with her best friend and has to face the consequences of the morning after.

Warnings: mentions of sex, cursing and nudity (nothing explicit though)

A/N: this was supposed to be just a small ficlet but look what happened,,, again lol. enjoy and tell me what you think!! also! the title is from a song from the musical spring awakening 

Y/N woke up to something warm pressed against her back. At first, she didn’t think much of it, happy to just shuffle closer to the heat. But then, it moved and Y/N was very much aware that the heat was coming from a person. A naked person. She opened her eyes and found herself in no other than in the bedroom of her childhood friend, Steve Harrington. Which meant, by process of elimination, that the body cuddling her was Steve. Either that or she had somehow hijacked his room and brought some random guy to it. Y/N honestly didn’t know what scenario sounded worse.

Memories from the night before started coming back to her and that was when she realized she was completely and utterly fucked. Y/N and Steve had been friends for almost 15 years and she had just ruined it by getting hammered and having an one night stand with him. God, what was she thinking?

Her mouth felt insanely dry, her head was pounding and there was no way she could get out of that bed without waking him up. ‘It’s ok,’ she tried to reason with herself, ‘you don’t need to make a big deal out of this. Just get out of the bed, grab your clothes, dress them as fast as possible and run out of the room before he fully wakes up. If his parents see you, they’ll think it’s normal. You’ve slept over before, it’s nothing out of the ordinary. And if Steve remembers anything, you’ll deny it. Say he brought another girl home. He’ll probably think he had a sex dream with you, get embarrassed and drop the subject. No big deal.’

Y/N swiftly got out of Steve’s embrace and replaced herself with a pillow. She didn’t let herself get a look at him, knowing she would be a goner if she did. Yes, she had a little crush on her best friend, how could she not? Steve treated her like she was royalty, he was always so kind and so supportive, so it’s not her fault that somewhere around middle school she realized she liked him romantically. Of course, she never acted on those feelings or told anyone about them, she just locked them up on a box on her mind and learned to live with them. And it had been going so well until her drunk self had to go and quite literally fuck it all up.

Y/N got up as quietly as she could and started gathering her clothes. Her underwear were easy enough to find and she quickly put them on, but she couldn’t find her dress anywhere. She was frantically looking for it around the room when she heard a raspy voice call out from the bed. “It’s right there.”

“Shit,” she mouthed, turning around slowly to find Steve peeking out from underneath the covers and pointing to a little corner next to his bed that had her dress, her shoes and some of his clothes scattered around. Y/N awkwardly mumbled a ‘thanks’ and went to get the clothing, knowing his eyes were on her throughout all of it.

“I was gonna let you go without letting you know I was already awake,” Steve told her, sitting up and picking up his boxers that were lying on the floor next to the bed. Y/N turned around as he put them on and heard him chuckle. “You can turn around now, Y/N,” he told her after a few seconds and she reluctantly did as she was told. They stared at each other for a while, Y/N taking in all the red marks scattered across his neck and torso, knowing she probably had matching ones on her. Y/N couldn’t let herself think about that too hard, so she cleared her throat and hugged her dress close to her chest. “You were saying...?”

“I woke up before you,” Steve said, “and I knew you were going to freak out so I pretended to be asleep so you could leave.”

“And why are you telling me all this?” Y/N asked exasperated.

He shrugged, looking out of the window in his room. “It’s raining,” he pointed out as an explanation.

It took a lot for Y/N not to scream in defeat and anger when she followed Steve’s line of vision and saw the little droplets of rain falling from the sky. She was so caught up in getting out of there that she didn’t stop to realize that it was raining and that she’d have to walk home with no umbrella and with the party dress she was wearing from the night before. Talk about a walk of shame.

“What’s your point?” she asked stubbornly. Steve closed his eyes for a second and sighed.

“My point is,” he said slowly, “I think it would be best if you stayed.”

“Best to whom exactly, Steve?” Y/N cried out, her knuckles clenched as she held her dress and shoes tight in her hands. “To us? Because I don’t see how situation we’re in could get better in any way. We fucked it up bad, Steve. In fact, I think you should just let me go home and we’ll forget this ever happened. That’s what it would be best.”

The hurtful look on Steve’s face when she said that was almost enough for her to drop everything, jump into his arms and never, ever let go. But they weren’t in a movie, this was real life, there was no way an one night stand would lead Y/N to live this big, beautiful love story with her longtime crush and best friend. There was simply no way.

“Do you regret it?” Steve asked her quietly.

“You don’t get to ask me stuff like that,” she pointed an accusatory finger in his direction, “you know what we did was wrong. Friends are not supposed to do this, ok? We crossed a line, Steve.”

He stood up and started to take careful and slow steps to where Y/N stood. “We didn’t just cross it, we annihilated it completely,” he told her with a smirk.

“You think this is funny,” she said, although it sounded less like a statement and more like a question. Steve now stood just a couple of feet away from her.

“I think your reaction is hilarious,” he told her, his smirk growing into a full blown smile.

“Fuck you,” Y/N spat out at him.

“I think you already did that for me,” he teased.

Y/N wasted no time to throw her shoes and dress on the floor and launch herself at him and start to lightly hit his chest. “You. Are. A. Fucking. Douche. Bag. Steve,” she emphasized every word with a hit to his torso.

Steve managed to seize her arms and bring them down.

“Ok, I’m sorry,” he said in between laughs, “I just don’t get why you think this is so horrible.”

Y/N was acutely aware that Steve hadn’t let go of her arms and how his fingers were slowly descending to her hands. “You can’t be serious,” she said dumbfounded.

“Why? This has been a long time coming, hasn’t it?” Steve said fondly, his hands finally founding Y/N’s and lacing his fingers with hers. “I mean, I’m pretty sure even our parents kept a bet as to when we would get together.”

“Steve...” she warned, looking down at their hands.

“I’m in love with you, Y/N,” he declared, “and I don’t get why this has to ruin what we have.”

Y/N let go of Steve’s hand and took a step back. “You’re not in love with me. You’re saying that because we slept together and you feel bad.”

“No, I’m not,” Steve shook his head in denial, “This is not the way I would’ve chosen to tell you, believe me, but it happened. You’re trying to make this look like it is a mistake when it’s not.”

Y/N gulped loudly and looked at Steve straight in the eyes. “What makes you so sure I feel the same way?” she asked.

“I don’t think you’d still be here now if you didn’t,” he answered, looking back at her with such raw and pure honesty that Y/N couldn’t take it. She turned away from him, facing his bedroom door. Steve was right. Y/N had every chance to bolt the moment she got her clothes back, he wouldn’t have stopped her. She stayed because a small part of her still believed that they somehow could make this work.

“This could ruin our friendship,” she said quietly.

Y/N heard Steve move in the background. A few seconds later, he placed a tentative hand on her shoulder.

“I’m willing to take that risk if you are,” he whispered.

‘Fuck it’ is the last thought Y/N had before she turned around and crashed her lips into Steve’s. He kissed back just as fervently, bringing his hands to rest on her thigh and hold her up. Y/N entwined her legs around his waist and he brought them back to the bed, throwing both of them carefully onto it.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said, looking down at her and pushing her hair out of her face. Y/N smiled and leaned up to kiss him. Their lips were about to touch when Steve’s door opened suddenly, his mom standing in the doorway. Steve jumped out of her while she grabbed the blanket to cover herself as much as she could.

“Steve, are you— Oh, Y/N!” Mrs. Harrington exclaimed when she saw Y/N, who waved awkwardly and murmured a “hi”.

The three of them stood silent for a moment, both teenagers mortified while Steve’s mom looked at them with wide eyes, but not in a way that it looked that she was surprised to see them together, just in a way that looked that she was just as mortified to have walked on this as much as her son was.

“Mom, can you go?” Steve managed to say, breaking the silence. Mrs. Harrington held her breath and looked at her son.

“We’ll talk later about this,” she told him and turned to Y/N. “You’re welcomed to join us for lunch, Y/N. I can even invite your parents over.”

And with that she was gone, closing the door behind her and leaving Y/N and Steve laying side by side on the bed with matching horrified looks on their faces.

“I can’t believe this just happened,” Y/N said and turned her head to the boy beside her.

“I was right, at least,” Steve answered and looked back at her, “our parents were keeping a bet.”

Y/N furrowed her eyebrows and chuckled. “Yeah, sure.”

“That’s why she’s inviting your parents over,” he clarified.

“You’re delusional, Harrington,” she told him fondly.

“Well, it’s either that or she already wants to start planning our wedding,” he said.

“Oh, shut up,” she mumbled, not even wanting to think about how awful would this lunch be if Mrs. Harrington in fact invited her parents.

“You shut me up,” Steve retorted. Y/N sat up suddenly and threw her legs around his wait, pinning him down on the bed.

“Ok, I will,” she breathed out before leaning in and kissing him hard.

[amassingeffect]

Ficlet Prompt Friday - Cave of Wonders - fReyder

@crown-laurel: I’d love to read about another date night with Sara and Reyes. After High Noon and locking in his romance!

While I haven’t romanced Reyes yet, having watched like eight vids for any Reyes romance, I feel absolutely cheated that he was not a possible squadmate. So, two birds, one stone and all that. LOL

Waring: post-High Noon, spoilers for Liam Kosta loyalty mission, heavy petting

Kadara was a place Sara had little problem coming back too. After the showdown that resulted in Sloane’s death, Reyes was busy solidifying the Collective as the ruling power in Kadara Port, and Sara was off planet not being further implicated. Besides, who knew what had happened elsewhere in the week she spent planet side. She had her hands full with the Nexus, Eos, Roekaar and co-ordinating strikes with Evfra and the Resistance on Voeld.

That wasn’t to say the messages between her and Reyes weren’t happening. A few a day, at the very least. Simple, innocuous looking messages that helped immensely to imagine him actually saying. Some with that playful tone, others with a smile and a wink. Neither of them were willing to say anything that could be intercepted.

If she was extremely transparent sending them back to Kadara two weeks later, she really didn’t care. That she had a message from Reyes simple saying “Tartarus” and a time, well… she didn’t think anyone would say anything right to her face. Well, anyone but Drack.

So here she was, strolling into Reyes’ private room. Sara would never tire of how his eyes lit up when he saw her, the smile that came to his face as he stood to greet her.

“Fashionably late.” Reyes murmured before he kissed her.

Sara could definitely see how he got the nickname ‘Shena’. His kisses always left a flutter in stomach and she loved those little moans he made. He was always slick with words and she couldn’t help but wonder what else his mouth was good at. How they hadn’t slept together yet, she hadn’t figured out. She had no inclination to rush him into something though. There was plenty of time yet.

“Don’t want you thinking I’m too eager.” Sara quirked her mouth into a small smile. “But I am glad to see you again.”

“It’s been too long. I was thinking of a late night drive?”

“Should I even ask? I mean a drive at,” she glanced at her omni-tool. “Just after one on Kadara?”

“If anyone tries to shoot at us, we can handle it. Besides, I do think it’s worth it.”

There was no way Sara could resist the silent question asked with that raised brow. “We can take the Nomad in thirty. Liam is offloading it now. It’s always the first thing he does here.”

“Ah, time for a drink then.”

In all honesty, the time passed quicker than Sara would have like. It felt like she just settled down beside Reyes, her very diluted tavum in hand when he was getting them going. He’d had to answer two messages, but Sara was honestly surprised it wasn’t more. Some days, she couldn’t even get through breakfast without receiving ten messages.

When they got to the Nomad and she saw something neatly secured into the backseat, she looked at him. “Reyes, what are you up to?”

“Nothing. I just figured you probably had eaten much. So I arranged a snack.”

“Uh huh,” Sara wished her stomach hadn’t picked that moment to growl like eiroch. “That looks more like a full meal.”

“Snack, meal,” Reyes shrugged with a coy smile. “If we’re out late enough, we can have breakfast and watch the sunrise.”

Sara got in and buckled up, sure he could see her blush as he did the same. “Where to Reyes?”

“Kurinth’s Valley.”

“Damn, you really wanted a late night drive, didn’t you?” Sara hit the start button, letting engine go through its start up revs before she got going. “I mean, there are easier ways to get me in a smaller space you know.”

“If I was going to do that, I like to think I could do better than your vehicle.”

“Ever the gentleman.” Sara paused, sliding Reyes a look. “Hasn’t it occurred to you that maybe I don’t want you to be a gentleman, all the time?”

Now it was Reyes’ turn to blush, she could just make it out in the low interior light. But Reyes had a small grin and his voice was low as he easily replied,

“That can be arranged.”

For once in her life, Sara stuck to the roads using the low beams to thread their way through the mountainous terrain. Better that than breaking both their necks with an unexpected cliff side. The drive up took them nearly an hour, but the entire time they talked. Reyes had endless questions about her work on Prothean digs and what she thought of the Remnant technology scattered through Heleus. And Reyes was far more forthcoming about himself that she expected. He had come to Andromeda to be someone, to be more than some orphan from the great teeming masses from the Santiago megatropolis of his childhood. His disillusionment with the Initiative was palpable, and having dealt extensively with Tann and Addision she really couldn’t fault him for that.

Sara had meant it when she said he could have his secrets. It was the big things that mattered more in her opinion. So when he got a little too quiet after some questions, all Sara did was slow down a bit and take his hand to give it a gentle squeeze. Reyes always gave her a chagrined smile and soft squeeze back. For all they wanted to be together, they were still adjusting to each other in small ways.  

Getting into Kurinth’s Valley is what made her fall a bit quiet. It was silly, but she half expected another Architect to come swarming out of the ground and attack. A soft squeeze to her hand made her look over, startled a bit to find Reyes giving her a gentle smile.

“We’ll go out armed. There’s some more weapons stashed under the other backseat.”

Sara huffed but smiled, feeling relief. “Always full of surprises.”

“Good ones.”

If anything, Sara was quickly developing a weakness for that smile and a wink from those hazel eyes. She parked the Nomad out of easy sight in a little niche of Remnant stacks. A midnight picnic in the middle of nowhere with Reyes Vidal. Good thing she hadn’t told Cora, the woman would have blown something. A fuse, a gasket… her head. All Liam had done was nod and wave her off saying to give him a ring if things went south. She wasn’t too sure what Liam would come to the rescue in, but the man was resourceful.

The night air felt a bit cooler as she got out but she was honestly too busy staring at the sky overhead. A hand settling on her waist made her look over to see Reyes, the light from his omni-tool set to low. His smile was a bit shy as he gave a half shrug.

“Does Sara Ryder approve?”

Her stomach did that fluttery thing again as she leaned in to kiss him. “Definitely,” she murmured, thumb stroking along his jaw. “Set a whole mood and everything.”

“I can’t deny that’s what I was going for. This…”

For once Reyes had no words, quietly taking in the sight before him. Sara slipped an arm around his hips, moving in a bit closer. It was a sky thick with stars, more than she had ever seen on any planet back in the Milky Way. Just a wide expanse of stars with a backdrop of the golden galaxy and all edged by the shadowy Kadara mountains.

“It’s better with the company.” Sara stated quietly.

Reyes’ smile widened but his reply was preempted by her growling stomach. He laughed as he held up the small hamper. “Shall we get you fed?”

Suddenly, that sounded like the best damn thing Sara had ever heard. It didn’t take long to set the blanket out and dig into the hamper. It looked like a lot of light foods, fruit, vegetables, secure little drink packs and packets of meat. It was even better when Reyes fed her little tidbits, his gaze fixing on her lips when she kissed and nibbled on his fingertips.

“You really don’t want me to be a gentleman.”

The dark tone to his voice sent a thrill through her, making her shift with anticipation. She picked up his hand, tracing over the lines on his palm before she settled it on her crotch, pressing up against it hard. She could hear Reyes’ sharp inhale as she leaned in.

“I think,” she whispered in his ear, sucking gently on the lobe. “That you should really show me how you got the nickname Shena.”

The low groan he gave sent heat racing through her but it was when he kissed her that she felt like she was on fire. Suddenly, she hated this damned light armour and she couldn’t pressed against his hand hard enough. His mouth was definitely good enough, tongue teasing hers  before he broke off to kiss down her neck. The light scrape of his teeth had her breathing harder, rolling her hips against his hand.

Goddamn, she was really hating her armour now. And his, since all she could really do was slide a hand down between them and palm at his clothed crotch. Oh, and this blanket, especially when she had that nice, big bed back on the Tempest. That was when her omni-tool flashed and SAM’s voice broke the silence.

“Pathfinder, I feel it prudent to warn you that there is an anomalous signal closing in on your and Mr Vidal’s location. They will arrive in less than five minutes.”

Sara was breathing hard, her brain almost automatically snapping back into Pathfinder mode. Almost because she just had to drink in the sight of Reyes in the low light, hair dishevelled with lips all kiss-bitten and his hazel eyes seemed to glow.

“Can you identify it, SAM?” her own voice was hoarse and Sara wondered what she looked like to him.

“One moment. Processing.” Was SAM quick reply.

“Hm, I wondered why I didn’t hear from SAM sooner,” Reyes got up to sit on his haunches.  “Sara?”

Oh God, the way he said her name with his voice like that. Whoever interrupted this was dead. “I engaged privacy mode before I came to visit you.”

“Oh,” Reyes did sound intrigued. “SAM, who is paying us a visit?”

“Their ID signal marks them as Outcast. A small troop, estimated at seven along with a Hydra.”

“Well they’re in for the worst game of hide and seek ever.” Sara got to her feet now, unclipping her assault rifle. “SAM, patch in thermal-vision to an ocular overlay.”

There was a moment of silence from SAM. “Acknowledged Pathfinder. They are two minutes out. I suggest you take cover.”

“If they have reinforcements, ensure Liam Kosta gets the message that it’s gone south, with our last approximate co-ordinates.” Sara looked to where Reyes was waiting with his own gun. “Stay on my six.”

“I have no problem with that.” Reyes gave a smile, cocking his gun.

“You say that now…” Sara let her fist crackle with biotics.

“So the view from your six will be better. Shall we go say hello?”

Sara decided to start it off with a bang. A few bright red thermal shapes appeared a bit ahead of her and she Charged into them, provoking gunfire for all of three seconds. The shots bounced off her shields and she slammed down a Nova, sending bodies flying. She turned catching the dim glow of an omni-tool and realized Reyes left it on purposefully. With her biotics fading, she melted back into the darkness and the remaining shots were pinning Reyes down as the whine of the Hydra powering up shots came.

So much for that plan.

She moved like a Wraith in the darkness, the flash of her biotics the only telltale sign of where she was. She flickered them to distract the Hydra and the other assailants, their gunfire letting Reyes pick them off one by one. Though there was the blue crackle of an Overload and then the bright orange bloom of a Flamethrower. Sara felt confident they’d be done mopping up soon when SAM intoned,

“Message sent to Liam Kosta,” a few moments and then, “He expects his ETA to be thirty minutes.”

“They had reinforcements!” Sara dashed over to where Reyes was still in cover. “Kosta won’t be here for another thirty.”

Reyes swore. “How many reinforcements, SAM?”

“Two more troops.”

“And how long until they show up?”

The silence from SAM was too long and then, “One minute.”

Now Reyes was swearing even more now. Sara was trying to figure out just how to get past the Hydra when a missile slammed into their cover. There was an ominous groan from the ground and Sara felt it flex beneath her feet. She barely managed to grab Reyes before the ground fell out beneath them. Everything moved, half blurred from falling dirt. But the ground was clear enough and she held on to Reyes tighter, firing her jetpack intermittently to slow their descent. They were still gonna land hard and Sara brought her barrier up and turned so she took the brunt of the fall.

Still hurt like hell though and she’d be lucky if her jetpack was working properly after that hit. Reyes scrambled off her, gun up as he offered her a hand. Her back was protesting a bit as she took it and got up, eyes scanning around.

“Not how I wanted to wind up underneath you.” She spotted her rifle, and dashed for it.

Reyes chuckled even as he looked up at the hole they fell through. “You don’t think there’s a chance they’ll stay up there.”

“Doubt it.” As if just to drive the point home, the sound of jetpacks firing up came. “Let’s go! SAM, map the place as we go so we don’t get lost.”

Now it really was a game of cat and mouse, in a cave full of what seemed like glowing green crystals. At least these guys had a shred of intelligence and didn’t resort to grenades. It gave them an advantage that they pressed. And with SAM guiding them, they managed to flank and ambush clumps of the Outcasts before darting back into the frankly confusing maze of crystals. Reyes would strip their shields to let them take the full brunt of her biotics. Or she’d run in and distract them before a quick Blink got her out of the path of Reyes’ Flamethrower. It was only when SAM declared that there was no one else left that Sara lowered her gun.

“Okay, next time, I pick the place.” Sara came to crouch down beside Reyes. “I’m fairly sure I can find some spot on Eos where things won’t try to kill us.”

“All that sand gets in places.” Reyes glanced at her before turning his attention back to the crystal.

“Voeld?”

“I prefer to not freeze.”

“… I’m sure as hell not gonna suggest the Nexus.”

That got Reyes to laugh before he held up the crystal. “Do you know what this is?”

“Looks familiar,” Sara took it from him, surprised to feel a faint buzz from it. It felt like… “Meditation crystals?”

“Raw, unprocessed meditation crystals. This is a cave of wonders.” Reyes was already looking around.

“I think you mean the cave of credits,” Sara looked around. “Sixty, forty.”

Reyes countered with, “Fifty, fifty.”

“No, pretty sure you mean sixty, forty. Between my jetpack and biotics…” she trailed off with a smile.

“You drive a hard bargain,” Reyes put the crystal back down. “SAM, how long until Mr, Kosta shows up?”

“Twenty minutes Mr. Vidal.”

Sara laughed at the displeased expression on Reyes’ face. “There’s always later. But we do have right now, Shena.”

“Later might sooner than you realise. After all, you don’t precisely want me to be a gentleman.”

Sara’s laugh dissolved into a moan as Reyes kissed her. If Liam showed up late, she really wouldn’t mind it.

Liam had thought he had fucked up with the whole mess with Verand and rescuing her from Calot. So when Ryder had taken it in stride, he’d breathed a sigh of relief and swore he’d stop doing stupid shit. It was also why he didn’t question too closely when Ryder said she was heading out for the night and to keep an ear out in case she needed back up. Liam had nodded and said to give a ring if she needed it. With everything Ryder did, she definitely deserved a night off. She probably wouldn’t really get it, but she did deserve it. Sure enough, the message from SAM had come. He’d grabbed Drack and both of them had managed to squeeze into the small exploration pod and race all the damn way out to Kurinth’s Valley. Freakin’ Kurinth’s Valley. What Ryder was doing out here so late, Liam wasn’t too sure he wanted an explanation.

It was easy enough to spot where Ryder and Vidal had been ambushed. The scorch marks were barely visible in the predawn light. It was the bodies and empty Hydra that made it far more obvious. And oh yeah, the giant freaking hole in the ground that seemed to be glowing a pale green.

“I never want to ride in that tin can with you again.” Drack got out, half his bones creaking in protest. “Looks like the kid had fun.”

“Yeah, tell me about it. Let’s see where she is.”

Liam had his assault rifle out and Drack already had his Ruzad in hand. They swept through the area, finding the parked Nomad and what looked like the scattered and trampled remains of a picnic. A midnight picnic, really? He edged closer to the hole, before he called down.

“Ryder?”

There was a muffled curse and then, “You couldn’t have been another ten minutes?!”

The echo of Reyes’ laugh confirmed that Liam had definitely interrupted something. He stood there, awkwardly wondering just what he should say. Not that he had to because Drack solved that problem.

“Want some time to finish your rutting?”

“Drack!” Liam seriously wondered about the old krogan sometimes.

Sara’s sigh may have echoed but damn if the frustration wasn’t clear as a bell. “Just get us out of here, please.”

“Can do. Hang on a tic.” Liam called before he headed back to the pod, Drack right behind him.

“Gonna winch ‘em out?”

“Yeah, easier and we don’t have to worry about falling in ourselves. And really you can’t go asking things like that.”

Drack just shrugged. “Fight like that, two against all those people. I’d be looking for a rut too.”

“More than I ever wanted to know about you.” Liam stated. “Man, she can’t even go out date without it ending in a firefight.”

“I know right. Imagine if she decides to marry the guy,” Drack laughed. “Firefight of the century.”

Liam shook his head, fighting down a laugh as he grabbed the winch cord and started unspooling some length. “Definitely do not let either of them hear you say that. Pretty sure you don’t have enough parts left to survive that.”

[starchasertonight]

What if when kadena met Kat was out and Adena wasn't in the relationship.

i honestly meant to just ficlet this but then an accidental 2k word fic happened. so…there’s that. this is an AU.

—

“Remind me why we’re going to this art show thing, again?”Jane asks as they all turn the corner, approaching the Brooklyn gallery.

“’Cause Sutton’s hot hipster guy mentioned he’d be there.”

“Ok, can we please stop calling him hot hipster guy? He’snot that hipster, and his name isBrian.”

“But why exactly are wegoing?” Jane persists, gesturing between Kat and herself.

“So it doesn’t look like she’s going just for him. Suttonsaid she’d be there like she already had plans too,” Kat says with a laugh,nudging Sutton with her elbow.

“We’re not hipster Brooklyn people.”

“You are tonight!” Sutton says, flashing her best smile andJane rolls her eyes while Kat keeps laughing. “Please? For me?” she adds toJane.

“Bet there’s gonna besome artsy queer girls here. There always are at these things,” Kat muses outloud, and Sutton turns on her, eyes narrowed.

“I knew it! I knewthere was a reason you agreed to this so quickly!”

“What? So I’m multitasking,” she shrugs. “I can find ahottie to take home and be your wingwoman at the same time. It’s a win-win,babe.”

Jane’s the one laughing now while Sutton rolls her eyes, andthen they’re at the entrance to the gallery, walking up behind several otherpeople also making their way in.

“What happened with you and that guy?” Jane asks. “What washis name?”

“Daryn,” Sutton supplies.

“Yeah, Daryn.”

“He started sending me good morning texts,” Kat says,leading the way towards the small pop-up bar stationed in the corner.

She knows that Sutton and Jane are sharing a look behind herbut she ignores them, pulling her card out of her wallet.

“Yeah, hi, can I get a vodka cran, please?” she asks thebartender, and Sutton leans against the makeshift bar top beside her.

“Oh! There he is!” Sutton jumps, grasping her arm, and Janeturns her head around.

“Okay, so what do you want us to do?” Jane asks.

Brian looks up and there’s a clear moment where he andSutton make eye contact before she looks away, back to the two of them.

“Wait for him to come to us,” Sutton says, conspiring, andKat thanks the bartender for her drink.

“So what’s this show for?” Jane questions, looking around,and Kat follows suit.

It’s the first time since she walked in that she’s paid anyattention to the art on the walls. The show must be for multiple artists,because the pieces are split up in different sections of the gallery and arevery different from each other. Some are paintings, others photographs.

The pictures really catch her eye, even from a distance,because they’re striking portraits of people. She makes a mental note to maybecheck them out more later, once they successfully run into Brian.

Brian finally comes over with a friend (who unsuccessfullytries to hit on Jane) about ten minutes later, and then Sutton is gone,chatting and walking with him around the gallery. She and Jane share a subtlefist bump, across their cocktail table, and that’s when she notices a girl withside-shaved hair and a septum piercing not so subtly glancing at the two ofthem.

Jane notices too after a moment, giving Kat a look, and shegives a small shake of her head in return.

“I can already smell that she doesn’t wear deodorant, so that’sgonna be a hard no from me,” she whispers, matter of fact, and Jane holds theback of her hand to her mouth to hide her laugh.  

A woman starts speaking from a microphone, diverting theirattention, and thanks people for coming, explaining the show and introducing theartists.

“…and last, but certainly not least, Adena El-Amin.”

Several people cheerand clap as a woman wearing a flowy red top, hair wrapped and covered, smilesin acknowledgment at the crowd in the room and hugs the woman holding the mic.

Kat can tell even from her spot by the bar that the artistis beautiful, and she doesn’t even realize that her head is tilted, biting herlip and staring after her, until Jane elbows her.

“No way.”

“What?” she questions, feigning innocence.

“There’s no way you’re getting her to go home with you,”Jane says, and she scoffs.

“Is that a bet?” she answers, competitiveness kicking in,and Jane groans.

“What are the odds that she’s even into women?”

Kat watches Adena, the way she greets people, the way sheinteracts with the women around her, and she’s already getting some vibes.

“Mm, fifty percent, at least,” she hums, thoughtful.

“Wow, ok. Didn’t mean that as a literal question. How do youeven…”

She sets her empty drink down on the high table, doesn’t letJane finish her question before cutting in with—

“Wish me luck, tiny Jane.”

She walks away toward the artist before Jane can stop her.

She decides to go look at Adena’s art first, so she hassomething to talk about, something to open with. And it’s only after staringfor several minutes at the gorgeous portraits of people from mosques throughoutthe city that she makes her way over to the photographer.

She’s exactly as pretty close-up as Kat thought she’d be,and there’s a brief moment of butterflies in her stomach. Because yeah, she’sgood at this and she knows she’s hot, but this woman is gorgeous and apparentlyalso talented as fuck. But Jane is gonna give her such a hard time if shedoesn’t follow through after acting so confident, so there’s no backing downnow.

“Hi,” she says, as soon as the person talking to Adena turnsaway. “I’m Kat,” she continues, extending her hand, and Adena reaches out toshake it. “Your photographs are so beautiful, I had to meet you.”

The artist smiles back with warm brown eyes, and her hand issoft against Kat’s before she drops it.

“Thank you, Kat. And thank you for coming over to introduceyourself. I always enjoy meeting new people at shows.”

“Of course,” she answers, giving her best relaxed smile.“And I love those earrings, they’re gorgeous on you.”

She sneaks in the initial compliment, subtly flirtatiousenough that a straight girl wouldn’t think anything of it. But then Adena picksup on it, gives her a slow smile in response, blinking up at her, and bingo.

Adena doesn’t blush though, doesn’t show any sign ofbashfulness. Instead she just smiles, arms crossed against her chest when she surveys Kat with curiosity and answers—

“What brought you here tonight?”

“My friend’s trying to impress this guy she met on tinder,and I was her wingwoman,” she says, deciding for honesty, and Adena gives asurprised laugh. “Tell me more about this project,” Kat smiles, inclining herhead towards Adena’s photographs.

She knows that artist types love to talk about their work,that it’s the best way to keep conversation going with Adena right now, andsure enough Adena’s face lights up, answering her.

Here’s the thing, though, that she doesn’t see coming—

Adena? Is actually an incredible person to listen to. Andthe more she talks about her work, answering Kat’s follow-up questions, themore she’s genuinely interested in it all.

Adena talks about both the love and the tension that shefeels in places of worship, the conversations that led to these pictures, andKat is absolutely enamored with her. The more that the conversation unfolds,the more unsure of herself she feels, like she’s been thrown off her gamecompletely.

This wasn’t how this conversation was supposed to go.

“Listen, Kat, there are some other people here that I needto speak with, to thank,” Adena explains, and she wonders how long they’ve beentalking. “But I would very much like to continue our conversation. Do you havetime, after the show? It will probably be another hour or so before I’mfinished. If not, I understand. I know it’s getting late.”

Kat smiles at her, more bashful than earlier, and nods.

“I’d like that. I’ll hang around, come find me when you’reready.”

They end up at a late night café, a couple blocks down, andthey’ve been talking for nearly forty-five minutes when Kat pauses, shaking herhead.

“You know, I honestly had no idea we’d end up talking likethis, when I walked up to you,” she admits, a little unnerved by how quicklythis has become something like a date.

“Oh?” Adena asks, curious and chin resting in her hand.

“No, I just thought you were really attractive,” Kat laughs,opting for honesty, and Adena smiles at her.

Her face is more contemplative than anything else, gaugingKat’s reaction, when she says, “You should know that I’m not one for hook-ups.”

“I already figured that out,” she says, and Adena quirks hereyebrow. “I’ve given you like, at least two clear openings to leave this caféwith me that you swerved.”

Adena laughs and then bites her lip, looking in to Kat’seyes, and god she’s so pretty thatKat just really wants to kiss her.

“So…what now?”

Adena asks it like she means it, like she’s truly open to possibilityfor whatever’s unfolding between them, and there’s something so disarming aboutit all.

Her phone screen lights up with another text from Jane outof the corner of her eye, also revealing the time and how late it is.

“Now…” she hums, holding Adena’s hand where it’s resting ontheir little table and giving her a flirtatious look. “Now I give you my number,and… I leave because I have an 8 AM meeting tomorrow. Aaand, you text me if youwant to see me again.”

Adena looks into her eyes, making Kat swallow, then gives alittle quirk of her lips and reaches in her bag for her phone.

“Okay.”

Kat doesn’t think about what this means right now, the implicationsof it all. Because she doesn’t date. She doesn’t.

But this felt suspiciously like an impromptu date, and she’ssad that it’s over, and she’s already hoping that Adena follows through andtexts her.

This doesn’t happen to her. Ever.

She knows she’s gonna have to talk to Jane and Sutton aboutit, and she’s already dreading their overdramatic excitement.

Adena gives Kat her number too, and then they’re standingoutside of the café together. It feels weird, leaving like this. Do they justsay bye and start walking in opposite directions? Do they hug?

Kat really wants to kiss her, and in any other situation theclear signs would be there for her to just go for it.

Adena holds her armsout for a hug and Kat follows her lead, sinking into her embrace. She feelswarmth spread through her body at the intimate contact, at how good she feelseven just like this. And when Adena starts to pull back, Kat looks into hereyes, decides to go for it and whispers—

“Can I kiss you?”

She honestly doesn’t know what the answer is going to be.But then Adena is nodding, coy smile on her face when she leans in and Katbrings their lips together, cupping her face.

She feels her whole body react, because Adena kisses hermore deeply than she expects, mouth relaxed as their lips glide together, andKat grasps her waist. And then, just as she’s starting to get lost in the kiss,hands wandering her back, Adena pulls away, smiling and blinking up at herbefore she takes a step back.

“You don’t play fair,” Kat says, trying not to whine, andAdena’s eyes are sparkling when she gives her a knowing smile.

“Goodnight, Kat.”

“G’night, Adena.”

She’s still standing there, dazed from the kiss, when Adena smiles and walks away.

[shimmershae]

"Here.  Lemme see."  (a Walking Dead Ficlet, Caryl + Judith).

Post Series Fluff.  Nothing but sugar here, lovelies. 

 Enjoy. 

  Kid’s all big brown eyes and sass, always running ninety to nothing around this place like she owns it, and today?  Well, it ain’t no different. 

  From his vantage point on the shaded porch, one hip propped against the peeling porch rail, Daryl’s been watching her.  Been growing more suspicious with each pass she makes between the house Carl’s done moved into and claimed as his own in a show of teenaged impulsiveness and this one.  And on her last trip, when she comes scuttling up those steps again with her Hello Kitty rainboots clomping around little feet that still haven’t grown into them, he decides to do a little light investigating.  So.  Quick as an ornery old cat, one long, lean arm darts out and his blunt fingers snag her belt loops, use them to reel her in.  When he has her, snared in his trap and looking none too happy about it, he affects his most intimidating scowl.  “Hold up.  Hold up.  Where you think you goin’?” 

  Course, Ass Kicker doesn’t look threatened in the least.                                                                                                    

  No.  That proud little chin goes up, and she looks so much like her mama in that moment, a small shiver makes it way up Daryl’s spine, seeps right into his bones, and he loosens his hold.  Softens his voice, too, because he’s got a sixth sense about these things—comes from being observant.  It pays off, because that’s all it takes for the little girl to let down her guard, just enough, and a slow smile crawls across his face. 

  Kid’s got a big pocket across the front of them denim overalls she’s taken to wearing night and day—they’re too big, too—and that flicker of a toothless smile of hers sinks her because she’s got crumbs sticking to the corners of her mouth.  Cookie crumbs. 

  He holds out his free hand, palm up, and wiggles his fingers at her.  “Here.  Lemme see.” 

  Torn between denial and a blurted confession, Judith finally sighs and digs one worse for wear cookie from her pocket, reluctantly drops it into his palm.  Even her frayed pigtails look resigned as she scratches a dirty fingernail over the end of her freckled nose and tilts her head at him.  “Carl was hungry.”

  Daryl bites back a bark of laughter ‘cause Carl ain’t the one standing on his porch with the evidence all over his person, but he reckons it’s not a complete lie.  The boy may want his independence, but there’s a reason he picked the house across the street and not one clear across Alexandria.  “Just Carl?” 

  Skinny shoulders lift in a noncommittal shrug and those big brown eyes look anywhere but at him. 

  Seems ‘Chonne’s lectures on honesty have taken a little bit of a foothold in the kid—he supposes a nose that grows and grows with each lie ain’t too big a stretch in a world where the dead roam the earth—and he waits for her to break.  Course, he helps her along.  “What would Carol say, huh?” 

  That little mouth pinches and guilt furrows her brows. 

  Kid looks like she wants the ground to swallow her up, and maybe she does because Daryl ain’t never been a fan of disappointing Carol himself, hates it more than almost anything, and it looks like maybe Jude’s the same.  Letting go of her belt loops, he tugs at one of her pigtails to regain her attention.  “Hey.” 

  The little girl meets his squinted gaze with some difficulty, her own eyes welling with something akin to remorse. 

  “Might could put in a good word for ya,” he offers. 

  “Really?” Judith asks hopefully.  Her fingers gravitate to one of her long braids, and she brushes the wispy tip against her lips, back and forth.  Back and forth while she stares up at him. 

  “Yeah,” Daryl nods.  “Yeah.  Could do it.  You’d have to do the apoligizin’ yourself.  Carl, too.  M’pretty sure, though, I could convince her to go easy on you two.  If…” 

  “If what?” the little girl presses impatiently. 

  “I’ll tell you,” Daryl lowers his voice.  “But you have to do exactly what I say.”  It don’t take long for him to whisper his instructions in Ass Kicker’s listening ear.  Takes even less time for her to hurry her way back down those steps and scoot across the street, disappear behind her big brother’s door.  He smirks as he imagines the scene unfolding, and he’s still smiling to himself when he hears the door creak open behind him.  Feels her arms slide around his waist from behind.  “Found your Cookie Monster.”

  She laughs softly, drops a kiss to his shoulder before lifting his arm and curling into his side.  “I heard.”  Her blue eyes dance as he nuzzles kisses into her silver hair and she tips her head back. 

  “Knew who it was all along, didn’t ya?”  He strokes the rough pads of his fingers down the line of her neck, lets them dip beneath the scooped collar of the shirt she’s wearing to tickle over an enticing trail of freckles and delights in the stutter of her breath, the shiver she doesn’t even attempt to hide from him. 

  “We never would have gotten married if I wasn’t observant,” she quips as she raises on her toes to kiss the corner of his mouth, traces her own fingertips across his cheeks and the blush that stains them.  “Not too many women left in this world can read the Dixon signs.” 

  “Signs are those?” he asks gruffly but he don’t need no answer ‘cause he knows.  Knows he’s damn lucky it was her he fell in love with.  Her that figured it out even ‘fore he did.  He takes her smiling mouth in a kiss before she can answer, gentle and deep.  Lingering.  When he pulls back, her eyes are still closed, and he can’t resist stealing one more taste of her lips. 

  “Oh, you know,” she murmurs.

  One corner of his mouth lifts in a tiny smile as he allows her to capture his hands, weave their fingers together and tug.   “Do.  Reckon I do.”     

  “C’mon, Pookie.  Something tells me cookie monsters eat a lot for dinner.”    

[headcanon-haven]

How about this little part in your latest chapter: "...once he’d gotten over the minor freak-out of being told he was officially pregnant (and Natasha really did deserve a medal of some sort for putting up with him over the twenty-four hours that followed)..." Very interested in finding out more specifics relating to his freakout and what those 24 hours looked like. If possible, would you mind providing commentary for it? Thank you in advance!

Alright... I’m going to try something entirely different - under the cut is a ficlet from Natasha’s POV, giving a glimpse of what went down after the confirmation appointment.  I might end up cleaning it up later and starting a collection of extras - we’ll see.

Natasha looked up from her book the second that she heard the clinic door opening, feeling the small hairs on the back of her neck rising in anticipation the same way that they had at the sight of every other strange couple that had returned to the waiting room, all looking different shades of excited and happy as they paused to schedule follow-up appointments with the receptionist.  She didn’t exactly understand their joy, as she had never particularly felt the drive to breed herself, but she hardly held it against them.  No, her anxiety wasn’t rooted in the emotions of the strangers that made their way in and out of the exam rooms behind the clinic door; it was in her worry for the one omega who still had not reappeared, despite having gone back ages ago.

 The second that she saw the familiar pair she had been waiting for, Natasha allowed herself to relax, just the tiniest bit, although the moment she actually looked at them she felt her heart drop.  The small alpha she’d only just met looked to be a strange mix of shell-shocked and ecstatic, but it was James, who looked pale and sweaty and panicked, who caught and held her attention, confirming exactly what Natasha had feared.  

The procedure had worked, and her idiot of a best friend was pregnant, exactly as planned.

It wasn’t that Natasha begrudged James for his decision - on the contrary, she knew exactly how desperate his circumstances had gotten, and had suffered along with him as the omega had struggled, first to gain the acknowledgement he deserved among his peers in his classes, then to get a foot in the door for an internship, then to work like a dog, without pay or respect, through the extended internship that she’d worried had sounded sketchy from the beginning, and finally through the past year of endless job rejections and mounting financial crises.  She’d done everything that she could to support her friend, but at the end of the day, neither of them could do anything to change the system.  And so, here they both were - in a trendy, pastel waiting room full of happy couples, watching helplessly as James rented out his own womb for loan repayment money.

Natasha swallowed the thought bitterly, knowing that it wouldn’t do either of them any good.  It certainly wouldn’t help James’ current state, which she realized she needed to get a move on rectifying before it reached crisis level.  Thankfully, the alpha - Steve, her mind supplied - hung back, leaving Nat free to shoulder her purse and approach James on her own.  He took one look at her, shoulders sagging as she forced a friendly smirk, then followed as she nodded towards the exit door and set off without a word.

“You alright?” she asked, quietly (senselessly) as the elevator doors closed behind them - blessedly without Steve as well.

“Sure,” James responded after a moment, staring straight ahead at the polished doors in front of him, his entire aura belying his words, “why wouldn’t I be?”

Why indeed, Natasha thought, internally rolling her eyes.  Once they made it to street level she led them out of the building, straight to the same frozen yogurt shop she’d taken him after his initial procedure.  They didn’t speak as they both picked idly at their treats, but Natasha figured they didn’t exactly need to; they’d known one another for long enough to read each other’s emotions, and neither had ever been particularly great with words and feelings, anyway.  It was part of why they’d become such great friends in the first place.

Thankfully, James didn’t protest when Natasha insisted that he come back to her place as they boarded the subway back towards Brooklyn.  In fact, he was the one who immediately changed into workout clothes once they had arrived at the building, going to the gym on his own without asking for permission.  Natasha let him go on his own, figuring that the omega could probably use some alone time to work through his thoughts without a spectator around.  She made her way down an hour later, silently joining him in his circuit training, helping with spotting as he moved on to arms and then watching carefully out of the corner of her eye as he pushed himself to the limit on the treadmill.

She was struck with the sudden, hysterical thought of James on the same treadmill seven months from now, hugely pregnant and still too damned stubborn to acknowledge his limitations - he gave her an odd look when she snorted and flubbed the combination she had been in the middle of throwing on the punching bag, but was too winded to actually say anything about it.

They made small talk as they both cooled down, quietly murmuring about plans for dinner and stupid shit to watch on TV while steadfastly ignoring the elephant in the room.  Nat shot Clint a text while James was in the shower, updating him on the results of the appointment and letting him know that she’d likely have a house guest for the night, so it’d be best not to come over.  He sounded as regretful about it as she felt, but of course agreed and offered his support, confirming her thoughts that she’d managed to find the best mate, ever.

From there she ordered garbage Chinese food from their favorite restaurant up the street, so that when James finally made his way out of the bathroom (and she gracefully ignored how red and puffy his eyes were) they curled up together on the couch, picking away at the greasy boxes while watching a Friends marathon.  It easily could have been a regular Wednesday night at Columbia, back when they were both young and stupid and before James’ entire life had gone to shit.

Once he was done eating James pulled his feet up onto the couch, fidgeting for a while in an attempt to get comfortable before finally falling against Natasha’s shoulder.  With a snort she wrapped her arm around him, welcoming it as the omega nuzzled against her shoulder and finally started to relax.

It was well over an hour before either of them spoke.

“You’re not… um - mad, are you?” James asked hesitantly.

Natasha blinked in surprise, waiting as Ross finished delivering some tactless punchline on the TV before answering.  “No, I’m not mad,” she murmured, letting her head fall against the crown of James’ hair.  “At least, not at you,” she clarified, “I still think the whole situation is fucked, but I’m not angry at you.”

It was the truth, although as she thought about it, her feelings towards him wouldn’t have made much of a difference.  James was her oldest friend, the closest thing to family that Natasha’d had in her entire life - and with his own family gone, she knew she played the same role.  Even if she was pissed at him, she still would have been in the same position, still would have loved him all the same, especially knowing how badly he was hurting now.  

“Good,” James murmured after a few moments of silence, curling even tighter against her shoulder with his eyes still fixated on the screen.  “I’m sorry for dragging you into this mess, but… I’m kinda freaking out about it.”

“I am, too,” Natasha answered, surprising even herself with her honesty.  “But you don’t need to apologize.  We’ll figure it out.”

It was all that needed to be said between the two of them, really - just a quiet promise that Natasha would be there for James, the same way that she knew he’d do the same if she needed it.  They remained on the couch, curled around one another until they began dosing off, when Natasha woke up enough to convince James to stay the night and waited until he was settled in the guest room to crawl into her own bed.

It took hours before she finally fell asleep, in no small part because of the anxiety that she could practically smell radiating from the guest room down the hall, but she finally fell into a fitful slumber - knowing that for as anxious as she was about the future and what it would bring for her friend, they’d find a way to get through it together.

[squirenonny]

Do you have anything in mind for the Alteans and Lance? That last chapter had some interesting stuff on Allura's side, and I've loved all the eshet with Coran, but... well, I'm a sucker for fluff.

[I’m writing Dualityverse fluff ficlets! (Because the latest chapters have been pure angst.)] [Read them all here.]

Fun story: You said “The Alteans” and my mind instantly jumped to a character you don’t even know yet. XD So I guess what I’m saying is this ficlet will have at least one follow-up. More if people ask for it, I guess, because… I feel like this idea has a lot of potential. ;)

Set at some nonspecific point after chapter 7 (but presumably before chapter 16.)

“I kick down thedoor!”

“Okay, rollstrength?”

Coran glanced downat his character sheet, then at the cheery blue dice Lance had madewith the castle’s fabricator. Such odd shapes, these dice. Therewas, of course, a ten-sided die like the ones Coran was used to(though these had Earthian numerals on them underneath the Altean),but there were others, as well—d20s, d4s…

“Which one isstrength, again?”

It had to have beenthe tenth time Coran had asked a similar question—to say nothing ofAllura—but Lance didn’t seem the least bit put out by theconfusion. Perhaps he’d expected this game of his to have a steeplearning curve.

It was a curiousgame, D-and-D. Lance had compared itto eshet on more than one occasion, and Coran could certainly see theparallels, even if the Earth game seemed somewhat more rules-heavythan Coran was used to.

“d20,”Lance said, reaching out to tap the appropriate die.

Corangave it a roll, then leaned forward to read the result. “Fifteen.”

“Aaaaaand?”Lance prompted.

Ah,right. Bonuses. Coranconsulted the stat sheet Lance had made for his character, a paladinnamed Nathan Ford.

Pidge,upon overhearingthis, had actually set aside their computer to complain that, “Nateis not a paladin,Lance. And you call yourselfa geek.”

[continued below]

“A,yes he is. B…” Lance jabbed his finger in their direction. “Youdon’t get to challenge my geekcred. You let me downby not having the players handbook saved on your hard drive. This is practically a homebrew at this point–and I haven’t had a chance to playtest! Coran and Allura deserve better than to be my guinea pigs!”

Pidgerolled their eyes. “Excuse me for not anticipating starting acampaign at boot camp while illegally searching for myfamily.” They quirked a smileas Lance stuck his tongue out. “Besides, Nathan Ford is aglorified NPC taken over by the DM’s kid brother who can’t decidewhat class he wants to be.”

Forsome reason that made Lance laugh, and the debate was soon cut shortby Allura asking which lion Nathan Ford was bonded to.

“No,no,” Lance had said. “Earth paladins are different from Voltronpaladins. There are no lions. Usually.”

Coranhad feigned offense (though in all honesty he was far too intriguedby the whole system to care much about whether or not his characterpiloted a lion, especiallywhen the “campaign” theywere running took place entirely inside a cave to small for thehypothetical lion to have fit.)

NathanFord had a plus twoto strength (earning another critique from Pidge and a cry of, “It’sa pick-up game, Pidge, shut it!” from Lance),which brought Coran’s strength roll up to seventeen—enough,it seemed, to successfully kick down a door.

“Ishould hope so,”Allura muttered. “You said his character’s an Altean paladin, didyou not? Alteans are quite a physically capable species. A simplewooden door is no barrier to us.”

Lancepropped his cheek on a hand, giving her a crooked smile. “Well,sure, but that’s the beauty of D&D—things that should beimpossible can happen if the dice love you, and things that should beeasy can get you killed if you crit fail.”

“Critfail?” Coran asked.

Lance’sgrin was not at allreassuring.

Allura,however, had turned her attention to her dice, poking themunenthusiastically. “I still don’t see what the point of this is. The dice, the… physicalstats references…A computer could run the probabilities much more efficiently. Andaccurately.”

Lanceshrugged. “Sure, but that makes it too much like a video game.”

“That’sbad?” Allura asked. “You and Pidge seemed quite fond of your‘video games’ before.”

“They’redifferent,” Lance said. “Sometimes you just want some good,old-fashioned pen-and-paper shenanigans.”

Alluralooked up sharply. “I thought you said thiswas a solemn strategic tradition among your people. Diplomacyand Defensibility, right?”

Therewas a snort from Pidge’s corner of the rec room. Allura’ssuspicion sharpened.

Flailing,Lance rushed to reassure her. “It is! It is. Very serious business.Totally legit. But in a… laid-back, friendly, team-building sort ofway? Like the slumber party! Or how the castle teaches kids to speakAltean with those hilarious, totally not deadly at allholograms that murder you for giving a wrong answer.”

“Bluffcheck,” Pidge muttered, earning another scowl from Lance.

“Ah,”Allura said, settling back in her seat. “I see.” Her eyessparkled in a way that told Coran she didn’t for one second believethis game was as big a to-do as Lance claimed. But it was obviouslyimportant to him in some capacity. For that reason, if no other, shewould give it a try.

“Right.”Lance shook his head, swiping a tablet screen where he’d made notesfor himself. “So Nate kicks down the door. Inside you find a large,open room partially lit by a small glowing crystal. There are twoGalra soldiers inside and what looks like a cage suspended from aceiling. Unfortunately, you don’t have time to look around, becausethe Galra soldiers just saw a quiznaking door get kicked off itshinges.” Lance set down his tablet, laced his fingers together, andgave Coran and Allura a devious smile. “Roll for initiative.”