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gladerwolfstarkimagines · 4 years ago

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Imagine being Azula’s favourite friend who she recruits first. The two of you have always had an unspoken attraction which neither of you were brave enough to acknoweldge...until you save her life and Azula decides to reward you

Background

You and Azula attended the academy together and had initially started as rivals. You were an above-average fire bender and because she didn’t know you Azula saw that as a threat. So she made it her mission to ruin your life when one day she found you arguing with Zuko. You didn’t hesitate to yell at him or point out his faults and from that moment on Azula knew she’d misjudged you. Azula be-friended you and you became a part of her group. Over time you became her favourite. She trusted you and could feel your loyalty to her, which was something she grew to respect more and more as Mai was compromised by Zuko and Ty lee became even more whimsical. You soon became inseparable and as the friendship grew it began to feel like more...you realised you liked Azula as more than a friend. You enjoyed every second you spent together and thought she felt the same. The tension between you grew and although Azula would grow flustered around you when you flirted with her she never reciprocated your feelings openly. You were heartbroken but understood that falling for the princess of the fire nation hadn’t been a very smart decision on your part. So needing some space to mend as soon as you graduated from the academy you joined the army. It hurt to be around Azula every day and to know you could be something great together if only your nation was more progressive. So you ran away from the situation and didn’t see Azula for years. You managed to stop thinking about her constantly after a few weeks and soon your heart didn’t feel as broken anymore...but you knew deep down you still cared about her. The princess would always be your first love.

Your POV

The army was tougher than the fire nation academy for many reasons. For one your name, reputation and grades didn’t matter once you passed through the doors. They didn’t care if you'd sparred with the best fire benders or got the highest grades in combat skills for ten years, you were reduced to a number and treated as one. You hated every second of it but the alternative was to return to your family and you’d take anything over that so you stuck it out.

One day all the recruits were ordered to wear their best clothes and report to the large training hall which could only mean one thing. Someone wanted to buy troops. High ranking generals or rich businessmen could hire trainees for missions or any jobs they needed completing. The buyer could choose who they wanted after watching you all in training and you would then decide if to accept or not. You took every opportunity you could and so stared straight ahead for inspection, trying your best to look hirable when a voice broke your resolve. "I’m looking for something in particular" Azula told your trainer and you only just managed to keep your head forward but a small smirk broke out on your face. Azula spotted you and walked down the line slowly before stopping in front of you. "Well, well who do we have here?" she asked. You looked up at her and matched her smile "long time no see huh?". Your trainer was horrified at the way you addressed the princess and rushed to yell at you when Azula cut him off with a laugh. She took your arm and you hugged her tightly. Your stomach exploded in butterflies and you clutched her tightly, you’d missed Azula dearly. "Your highness i don’t know what...i’m sorry for this one’s behaviour" the trainer started obliviously and Azula rolled her eyes "are they all as dumb as you? Obviously i know y/n". You smirked and Azula was spurred on by that beautiful expression she’d missed. "You really have no idea who she is?" Azula asked laughing "this is y/n l/n, her father is friends with my father and she is a personal friend to the royal family. To hear you haven’t treated her appropriately is very displeasing" Azula frowned and you smiled as your usually cruel and horrible trainer shook. "I’m sorry we had no idea who she was! We will treat her better, promote her actually" he babbled. "No that won’t do" Azula said "and that wont be necessary, y/n will be leaving with me for a job and won’t be coming back here". The guard hesitated "i...you can’t just take a recruit". "I’m not but i could" Azula growled "i think you’ll find it’s more y/n quits". "She can’t quit" the guard replied “she made an oath” and Azula raised an eyebrow in response "are you tell me what i can do? Are you telling a noblewoman what she can do? Any debt she owes you will be wiped by my command, understand?" Azula barked. The trainer paled but nodded "yes princess" and bowed his head. "Good" Azula nodded and she strode with you right out of the front doors.

Azula brought you to the lodgings she was staying at in the nearest town and you were amused to see it had been given the royal treatment. Red everywhere, freshly polished surfaces as far as the eye could see, gold and silver decorations lay on every available service and of course a large portrait of the fire lord hung on the wall. Over a lavish dinner Azula told you the mission making you realise you’d accepted and left the army without even asking for any details. You were fine with hunting the avatar and Zuko with Mai and Ty lee but you also recognised you would’ve accepted almost any mission Azula gave you because you’d been so happy to see her. Azula had always had this effect on you and time apart hadn’t done anything to lessen that. You were as much in love with her now as you were the day you left two years ago.

After dinner Azula led you to your shared apartment, it contained two bedrooms with ensuites and a large living room which you were pleased to see and you sunk into the sofa happily. "Your hair’s shorter" Azula commented suddenly and you nodded touching it self consciously "yeah it was a target in sparring". Azula scoffed "seriously? Don’t they teach the other recruits proper fire bending moves as opposed to childish tricks?". You shrugged "they told us to win by any means. That it doesn’t have to look good so long as you win". Azula laughed again "amateurs all of them! Of course it should look good". You smirked "well when it comes so easy to you" and glanced over her. Azula shrugged but had a large smile on her face "well I suppose I have been blessed in that aspect". You laughed again and smiled "this is nice". Azula smiled too "it is" and you locked eyes for several seconds before she looked away slowly. Azula stood up abruptly "we should get some sleep we’re moving on foot tomorrow to go get Ty lee and then Mai". You were excited at the thought of seeing your old friends and grinned "great! Also don’t think i didn’t notice you came for me first" you called as Azula made her way towards her room. She halted and you smirked "I always knew i was your favourite but really Azula to make it so obvious" you grinned and Azula paused. You walked to your own room and Azula finally responded "i always made it obvious you’re my favourite, it’s nothing new" and went into her room.

You stepped into your own room and leant back against the closed door blushing vividly from the encounter with Azula. You’d spent all your time in the army trying to convince yourself your relationship with Azula was purely platonic. That the fact your heart sped up whenever you thought of her or how you dreamt of her often was just because you were close friends. You managed to convince yourself you weren’t in love with Azula and that she didn’t feel anything for you either but less than a day with her and you knew that was a lie. You couldn’t deny the way she made you feel and how she smiled at you in a way she never did with anyone else...as much as it made you nervous your realisation also excited you. You couldn’t wait to be around Azula again and felt a happy glow spread over you. You settled in your bed, a smile still on your face and burrowed into the exquisite cushions. You expected to fall to sleep easily but a while later you were still awake. You frowned confused as to why. You were happy, you were with Azula and the bed was comfy so why couldn’t you sleep? You figured maybe the bed was too soft compared to what you were used to in the army so went into the living room to try the sofa. You laid down and realised this was better, more like the beds back at the military. You had just closed your eyes when Azula’s door opened. "Trouble sleeping?" she asked and you nodded "i think the bed’s too comfy". Azula laughed "i thought the opposite, really y/n your taste has worsened in our time apart". You shrugged "it’s better than what i’ve been sleeping on for the last 9 months". Azula lay down on the sofa next to you and you looked at her. You didn’t ask why after finding her own bed soooo uncomfortable she came to lay on a sofa barely a foot from where you were and just enjoyed the silence. “So, anything else i missed you didn’t put in your letters?” you asked. Azula hadn’t written to you much at the academy and honestly that had been a good thing. You’d have just missed her more than you already had but she did send brief updates once a month. Azula nodded "probably tons, i couldn’t write often". You didn’t point out she wrote to you on the first of each month religiously instead you turned on your side to look at her. Mai and Ty lee had also written to you but you’d noticed compared to their letters and the changes in their lives Azula’s had been...well boring. You felt almost sorry for her, you’d all moved away to different things but Azula had been stuck at home with a father who was cruel, the ghost of a cold mother and the memory of a banished brother. Azula quickly discussed some events that had happened and then also turned on her side to face you. "What about you then? How was military life really?". You shrugged "not as i expected". "I knew that job would be awful" Azula commented "why did you stay so long then?". You sighed "well i liked some parts of it, the physical training was similar to what we did in the academy which i liked, the mental tests were better, they made me use all my brain". "That’s a first" Azula chimed in and you rolled your eyes "i liked those parts of it...could’ve done without the abuse from the trainers, food restrictions and ban on leaving". Azula raised an eyebrow "remember what i always told you y/n no self-pity, you could’ve left at any time. You chose not to". You thought Azula sounded a bit angry when she said that but you shrugged "i could but that would have meant going back home not coming back to the capital and I’d rather fight all the trainers at once than that" you said through gritted teeth and Azula saw you’d tensed. She recalled you never got along with your family but she hadn’t realised they were part of the reason you’d taken such an awful job so soon after graduation. "They hated my move to the capital and said if i failed at all they’d have me back and married, i had one shot to escape them, there’s no way i’d give it away because i didn’t actually like what i’d chosen". Azula didn’t comment she just watched you conflicted, she hated self pity and weakness but you were so like her, she’d have done the exact same thing in your position. "But you did leave" Azula commented “you left to come with me” and you looked down "i did...". Azula saw the way your face changed, filling with worry and she actually felt slightly guilty. You’d left instinctively for her when she asked, no matter what it might mean for you in the long term. You did all that for her and it proved to her again why you were her closest ally.

Azula laughed and you looked at her confused "y/n do you really think i’d make you give up your job for a small mission?". You frowned "what?". "Your parents won’t be angry because this a much better job, you’ll be paid more and you’re working with me" Azula said pointedly. "They can’t say anything against that, as long as you’re with me they can’t touch you" she smiled and you grinned at Azula "you’d vouch for me?". Azula nodded "of course, i want you with me and that’s what i’ll get, i don’t care who your family are they’re not taking you anywhere ever". You were equally touched and shocked "ever?". Azula nodded "well obviously you might not be here forever but they’re never taking you back to tie you to a marriage, i’ll just keep coming up with excuses to keep you in my company until you’re too old and then they’ll have to leave you alone with me" Azula explained and you smiled "sounds perfect".

Azula laughed and met your eye, seeing how intensely you looked at her gave her chills. Azula had missed you greatly in the capital but honestly she’d let you leave without a fight. She sensed a growing attraction and longing for you which she knew had to stop. So she let you go figuring some distance would be good but as soon as she needed allies the first face in her mind was yours. The second she saw you she knew she’d made the right choice but she also felt the attraction just as suddenly. Laying here staring at you made it more apparent than ever and it scared Azula. She blushed and turned away from you, facing the back of the sofa "try and sleep" she commanded "we'll be up early".

You didn’t comment on how much Azula was blushing or how she’d chosen to sleep out here with you. You just smiled and closed your eyes basking in the feeling of all she’d said and the safety of her. “Good night Princess” you whispered and you fell asleep almost instantly.

The next day you reunited with Ty lee and then Mai. Ty lee had launched herself at both you and Azula when she saw you and the same occurred for Mai. Mai grunted and hugged Ty lee begrudgingly. "I thought you ran away to the circus?" Mai asked Ty lee and she nodded "i did but y/n and Azula showed up and well they called louder than the universe" Ty lee smiled. "Wait y/n and Azula, isn’t the circus closer to the capital than the military?" Mai asked looking from you to Azula. "Yeah so?" you said confused and Mai shrugged "nothing just seems like it’d make sense to go to the circus first then military but hey i’m sure Azula had her reasons for coming to get you first" Mai smirked slightly. You didn’t look at Azula but Mai and Ty lee exchanged a look at the matching blushes you were both sporting, some things never change. Azula recovered first and pretended Mai hadn’t said anything about the two of you and began explaining her plan. You joined in after a few seconds of recovery but still felt giddy at Mai’s words.

Throughout your trip you and Azula grew closer and closer just like you’d done at the academy. Although neither of you spoke about it you felt drawn to one another and Azula acted differently around you. She sought you out more than the others, always kept the closest proximity to you and paired Mai and Ty lee and you with herself whenever you had to split into teams. As you fell into old habits all the past feelings came back and you began to worry at all the dangerous situations Azula was putting herself in just to please her father. She’d infiltrated Ba Sing Sei without any backup besides you, Ty lee and Mai which terrified you. Of course her plan worked but still you were so grateful Azula had been unharmed and managed to take over the whole city without any mishaps. You hoped it’d be smooth sailing from there but of course she wanted her brother and the avatar too. You did exactly what she said to try and help her but you couldn’t escape the feeling something would go wrong. Azula had left to go and face the avatar all alone apart from her dai lee agents and you couldn’t get her out of your head. Azula had put you in charge of making sure the earth king and his bear were looked after but you wanted to ensure she was okay so left it to Ty lee and Mai. You followed the secret passage you’d seen Azula take and found your way into a massive cavern filled with people. You spotted Azula fighting the avatar and saw her shoot him with a lightning bolt. He fell to the floor and you gaped at the fact Azula had likely just killed the avatar. The water bender with the avatar then went into a rage and flew through the air using a massive wave to catch him. Azula smirked ready to engage with her and you saw Zuko standing beside her. You were surprised to see Zuko beside her, never thinking she’d actually manage to get Zuko on her side but of course she was a master at manipulation. You smiled at all she’d achieved when you noticed Azula’s uncle Iroh was approaching them. He had flames in his hands and was looking right at Azula who was fixed on the water bender. You gasped at Iroh’s intentions and how nobody was aware of what was going on behind them. You broke out into a run and leapt down the cliff as quick as you could. You were getting closer but you still weren’t close enough. Iroh raised his hands and you went into panic mode. “Stop” you yelled and threw your own fire as Iroh released his own. Your strike managed to hit his off course and it hit a rock beside Azula. Azula and Zuko both jumped and Iroh turned to you. You were now stood blocking his path to Azula and you sensed he still wanted to take her down. You anticipated his attack and blocked it instinctively before firing back your own. Iroh was much stronger than you so you were heavily outmatched when suddenly two flames burst onto the scene. Azula sprang in front and began attacking her uncle savagely while Zuko helped. You were again slightly surprised by Zuko but quickly joined in. With three on one even the dragon of the west couldn’t last long and with a final hit from Azula he fell to the floor. “Seize him and throw him in a cage” Azula spat and walked past him to you. “I thought I told you to wait upstairs” she said fixing her intense gaze on you and you shrugged “I wanted to help and I think it’s a good job I did”. Azula shot you a look at your boldness but you could tell she was more amused than annoyed. “You appear to be correct” she replied curtly before walking past you. You smiled after Azula, admiring how happy she looked and why wouldn’t she? She’d taken over Ba Sing Sei, possibly killed the avatar, brought down her uncle and convinced Zuko to ally with her, all in all it had been an excellent day and Azula had proved herself a force to be reckoned with. You began following her when you saw the guards walking Iroh in the opposite direction. You were going to look away when you noticed he was still staring at Azula. You could feel his anger and knew what his intentions were, he meant to finish the job. In the blink of an eye Iroh burst out of his restraints, threw his guards to the side and took a stance. “Azula get down” you yelled sensing the electricity in the air but he had an excellent shot at her and she had nowhere to go. Instinctively you threw yourself into the path of the lightning.

Azula also responded instinctively. She conjured her own lightning to meet her uncle’s when she saw you running into the fight, You tried to raise a wall of fire but there wasn’t time, you got hit by the bolt and collapsed. Azula only just managed to direct her own bolt away from you and felt her heart beating rapidly. As the smoke cleared Azula saw your body on the floor rage consumed her. She conjured a huge amount of electricity and sent it all at her uncle. He tried to block it but Azula’s bolt sliced through his defences hitting him square in the chest. Azula didn’t even check to see if her bolt had met its mark, she knew it had so rushed to your side. “Y/n” she yelled and she knelt beside you staring at the smoke coming off your back where the bolt had hit you. Your uniform was partially melted and Azula could smell the burning flesh strongly. "I need water” Azula yelled grabbing you and trying to feel for a pulse. She felt one and felt her own breathing somewhat stabilise too. "Now" Azula yelled and people rushed forwards. Azula poured the water over you "it’s okay" she told as you winced as she poured more. "We need to get her into the pool" she called "someone help me get her to the water". Zuko appeared and helped Azula carry you to a fountain. You were semi-conscious which made Azula hurry even quicker, she wanted to reduce your pain as soon as possible. Azula climbed into the fountain first and told Zuko to pass you to her. She took you carefully and laid you on your back floating. Your eyes closed as you passed out and Zuko called for a doctor. Azula clutched your by your arms keeping you close to her in the water "you will not die y/n" she snarled "you will be fine do you hear me?". You didn’t respond.

Later

You woke up face down on something soft and tried to move your face away from it when shooting pains erupted along your spine. You felt like your back was cracking open and groaned loudly. "Careful y/n" you heard someone say and saw it was Ty Lee. "Ty lee? What happened?". "You got burnt" she explained "on your back..luckily Azula cooled you in time to stop any long-term damage but it’s still really sore so be careful". You reached for your back and flinched at the slightest touch of it. "Stop" Ty lee told you "Azula said i’m to watch you and make sure you rest, apply more soothing cream on it every three hours and just basically always make sure you're okay!" she told you cheerfully. You shook your head "Ty lee i’m fine you don’t have to sit guard over me" you tried to sit up and went pale from the pain. "Don’t do that" Ty lee cried rushing to your side "if you want to get up i can pile some pillows in front of you for you to lean on. I don’t think you can sit up for a while". You pouted annoyed but asked Ty lee to bring you said pillows and managed to pull yourself up onto your elbows "so what happened? Tell me everything". "Well thanks to you we managed to stop Iroh escaping and hurting Azula, we took Ba Sing Sei and the avatar is dead". "Wow" you said surprised "That is... a lot". Ty lee nodded “Ow and Zuko’s back on our side". You nodded and smiled "I bet Mai is happy". Ty lee grinned too "she is i haven’t seen her since we started for home". "We’re on our way back?" you asked and Ty lee nodded "yes but Azula said me, you and Mai are to stay with her even after we arrive back in the capital, she said she still has a need for us". You smiled laying your head down blushing slightly, Azula had kept her promise, she wasn’t letting you go. You sighed happily and Ty lee smiled "y/n?". "I’m just glad to be going back" you smiled "i think we'll have lots of fun". You had been dozing when the sounds of the door made you jolt awake sending shooting pains down your back. You winced but prepared yourself for an attack until you saw her. Azula raised her hands as she saw you jump and she smiled "just me". You relaxed "Azula, sorry i was asleep". "Don’t apologise you need to rest after what happened, i just wanted to come check on you. We'll be in the fire nation in a few hours". "That’s good news" you smiled and Azula nodded "how does the back feel? Ty lee says you’re doing as well as can be expected" Azula’s eyes drifted to your back and you froze. You were now very aware you were laid on your front with only a blanket covering your bare torso from Azula’s eye. Azula stepped closer and you rushed to explain and stop her inspecting you. "I’m fine" you told her "the burns aren’t too bad, they hardly hurt at all". Azula raised an eyebrow "then you won’t mind me having a look?" and stepped beside you. She reached for the blanket and you grabbed her hand with an uncomfortable strain "wait, i lied...i don’t want you to see it, Ty lee says it looks bad. It’s in the blistering stage and yes it hurts but everything has already been done for it and me so you don’t need to see it or check on me". Azula titled her head to one side as you couldn’t meet her eye and she sighed sitting on the floor beside your bed. "It will scar but unlike Zuko you can wear yours with pride" Azula said forcefully and you looked up at her shocked "with time i’m sure it will simply resemble a tattoo" Azula explained. You turned on your side to look at her, something you’d practised with Ty lee and could now manage. "Ty lee told me you did as much for me as you could...i can’t really remember it but..". "Do you remember jumping into the path of lightning for me?" Azula said "without protecting yourself or even any concrete attempt to do so, and what for?". You sighed thinking Azula was angry at you "i...i know it was reckless and stupid, it went against everything we were taught at the academy but I don’t know Azula, i did it without even thinking. I saw it heading for you and you weren’t ready! It would hit you and i just did it without hesitation, i know it seems stupid and emotional but i don’t regret it Azula i’d do it again" you told her sighing, feeling she wouldn’t understand. "I know that might sound stupid...why i’d do that for you but Azula i..." you started as Azula cut you off "y/n". Azula gently raised your head with a hand helping you to look at her. You were confused by Azula’s gaze, it was soft but at the same time intense, you couldn’t recognise the emotion, was she angry? Happy? Excited? Apparently it was somewhere in the middle. Azula leant down to you, hand on your cheek as she ghosted her lips over yours. You felt a sensation like water being thrown over you as Azula kissed you softly and quickly before pulling back "i don’t completely get it but i understand" she smiled blushing softly "i think I can imagine why you did it" she said looking away from you "thank you for saving me". You were speechless, Azula was thanking you? Azula understood why you did it? Did that mean she liked you too? She’d just kissed you so of course she did! Or was that what she thought you wanted? Azula had been used all her life, did she simply think you did this in order to make gains with her?

Azula smiled slightly to see your brain short-circuiting at her actions and stood up. "i just wanted to make sure you were okay so now I know you are i’ll let you go back to sleep. I’ll wake you when we’re there". You nodded still confused and watched Azula walked away. You weren’t sure what had just happened but you knew you had to make Azula realise you didn’t do this just to use her. "Azula" you said suddenly "is that...what you just did...if that was my reward or what you think i wanted from you after today...i didn’t save you because i was expecting a reward or anything from you so what i’m saying is you don’t have to compensate me if you don’t want to. I didn’t do it for any reason other than to keep you safe".

Azula blushed suddenly and felt her emotions swirling, she realised she was happy. To hear you express openly your desire for her safety filled her with excitement and she realised nobody had ever cared for her before like you did. Azula nodded slowly "that is welcomed news y/n" she smiled "but i didn’t reward you like that as a forced compensation either" she told you "although my intentions were personal and selfish i suppose”.

You smirked slightly and nodded "good...i mean fine with me". Azula nodded "i’m glad we understand each other, good night y/n". "Good night princess Azula" you said savouring the words and Azula’s eye twitched but she maintained her calm expression and bowed leaving. You lay back giggling as realisation (and the medication you were on for the pain) set in. Azula had kissed you and told you she didn’t do it because she thought she had to but because she wanted to! For selfish reasons!!! You wrapped yourself in your blankets and didn’t stop smiling even in your sleep.

____

Is it just me who loves the idea of being in a secret relationship with the princess of the fire nation? I feel like Azula would excel at sneaking around the palace and would like rebelling against Ozai for once

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lilacmeadows · 4 years ago

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Made For You pt.1

Okay so this is gonna be a series. My FIRST series. So go easy on me pretty please. I’ve never written smut, and I know nobody wants badly written smut. So we’ll see about that. But this one is definitely gonna be more of a slow burn. Maybe 4 chapters? Yeah. I like that. 4 chapters. I’ve just been thinking about this idea for a while and I wanna get into writing. I hope someone likes this.

BUCKY X READER

Summary: Hydra had just finished training you to be the Winter Soldier’s perfect mate when the Avengers saved him. But what’s going to happen to you now that Hydra has deleted your old life and left you with nothing but a soldier that needs to learn to love himself before he can love someone else.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 (coming soon)

WARNINGS: explicit sexual content, explicit language, eventual dom/sub dynamics, mentions of captivity and kidnapping. violence- guns, mutual pining, eventual smut, fluff, angst if you squint (must be 18+)

WORD COUNT: 2k

PART ONE

She’s so used to quiet in her quaint bedroom. The faint whirring of the air conditioner, sounds of footsteps and machinery being rolled outside her door, the music they would play for her when she was extra good that week.

So when she was awoken to gunshots and yelling, y/n was anxious and didn’t know what to do. She backed into the corner of the room furthest from the door and shut her eyes. Hopefully, if she stayed quiet and unseen, things would resolve itself, and she wouldn’t see any violence come her way.

Luckily for her, after what felt like hours later, the sounds quieted down. The gunshots were less frequent and finally came to a stop. She waited for a few moments before sitting on her bed with intentions of continuing her knitting. She wasn’t allowed many activities, but this was one luxury the Men didn’t mind since she hadn’t had any violent outbursts in a long time. She hated being shocked, and she liked knitting.

But the quiet didn’t last long. Minutes later, she could hear footsteps approaching her room. Too late to go back into her corner without being heard through the ‘doggie door’ the Men used to pass her food twice a day, she sat still and slowed her breathing.

‘Anything on that floor?’ She heard one male voice say from further away.

‘Not yet. Mostly supply closets on this floor, but I’ll check them all.’ Said a voice from much closer. He couldn’t have been more than 10 feet away from her door. She could tell they were American like her because they didn’t have the funny accents the Men all had. Gripping her plastic knitting needles tightly in one hand she braced herself for the intrusion.

Her door cracked open a little, then quickly opened all the way.

“Cap, you need to see this.” The man called over his shoulder. “Are you alright ma’am?”

“Yes. I’m fine, sir.” Her small voice replied, a little rough from lack of use, but still remarkably sweet.

“Who are you? Do you know where you are?” He approached her slowly, taking in her meager appearance, but also watching out for the pointy sticks she has a death grip on.

“My name is y/n. I’m in my room.” She replied. Starting to feel very uneasy by this stranger, but also not thinking that he would hurt him. She had been here for so long, it was strange seeing a tall, black man enter her bedroom. Only trainers and watchers were allowed to enter her bedroom.

“What is it?” Another, taller man asked, but his question was soon answered when his eyes landed on the girl sitting on her bed with her tucked gently under her. He immediately noticed her lack of decent clothing, and it caused a blush to creep up his neck.

“We have a girl here, possibly a hostage, maybe an experiment. She doesn’t look like she particularly wants to be rescued.” The first man said to the other, who’s slowly entering the room while trying not to stare at her thin, flimsy, cotton dress.

“Hi, I’m Steve, this is Sam. Do you know where you’re from?” The blonde man said to her while crouching down to be at her eye level. She nodded her head yes. “Well we’re the good guys. We’re here to save you. Do you want to come with us so we can take you home?”

She had to contemplate for a minute. It had been so long since she got here that she couldn’t imagine what it would be like to leave. These men looked sincere, but she knew if she left and was caught, she’d be punished terribly. But if the gunshots meant anything, there would be nobody to punish her. Which means she can’t stay regardless because there would be nobody to take care of her either.

“Did you kill my watchers?” She looked at the blond man after a few quiet seconds. Steve and Sam made eye contact and had a whole argument in silence before Sam spoke up.

‘Yes, we did. But they were bad men. They were keeping you here. But you’re free now. You just gotta follow us, and we’ll get you out of here.’ Sam said, gently. Not wanting her to think they’re cold blooded murderers, but also trying to rush this meeting along so they can board the quinjet, where the rest of the team was waiting.

Steve held one of his hands out to her, which she hesitantly took- knitting needles and purple ball of yarn in her other hand. She thought about grabbing her sweaters, but they weren’t kept in her room. Quite frankly, she had no idea where they were. The Men didn’t allow her to keep the things she learned to knit in her room. But they would give her back a sweater during the cold months. So she just followed the two men awkwardly. Them taking large, hard steps towards parts of the building she had never seen, and her dainty footsteps lagging behind. The trainers taught her to walk with a ladylike gait, on the balls of her feet with barely any pressure to her heels.

After many hallways and stairwells, they found themselves outside the building. The quinjet was parked close by, and y/n’s eyes almost jumped out of her head. Of course she had never seen anything like that before. The men led her onto the loading area which closed behind them.

“Take a break for sightseeing?” Said one man from the front of the jet. They couldn’t see her because of her small stature behind the two men.

“Actually, we found someone. Her name is y/n. She was in one of the rooms, top floor.” Steve said to the man, while fishing you out from behind his back.

She was met with eyes. Many pairs of eyes. All looking directly at her. Not used to all the attention, she looked down at her feet, which were bare as usual and slightly irritated from walking on various terrains. Her toes painted baby pink. Another luxury the Men allowed her. Some watchers were nicer than others. The shorter, fat one that came every other night would bring her a light, barely noticeable, polish that she was only allowed to put on her toes.

Being there wasn’t so terrible. She was 10 when they took her in 2006. She had a mom and older brother, and they lived in a town in Georgia. She often wonders what happened to them that morning when the Men put a rag over her face, and she woke up on a bed in the room that would become her new bedroom.

She didn’t leave the room often. There was a small bathroom across the hall from her room. The watcher would be standing guard outside her door, and she would let him know she would like to use the bathroom or bathe. He would have to stand in the room with her while she bathed, but after a while, they were kind enough to face the wall. She fought for a long time. Refusing to eat the food (which wasn’t terrible), screaming and crying, she even plotted the occasional failed attack. But then they started the shock therapy, and she learned. Being in that chair was brutal. Rewiring her brain into submission. Submission to the Men so they could train her. She had to be ready for the Soldat when he needed her. Why her? She didn’t ask and they didn’t tell her. She learned very quickly that she was only allowed to speak when spoken to.

Make the Soldat happy. That was her mission. She had been told that phrase so many times that she heard it in her sleep. She had never seen or met him, but she was being trained to be his. A possession he could have control over during the brief times he was unfrozen. She was to listen to him, obey, sleep with him, and just make him happy because the mind controlling words were having less and less of an effect, and the Men were afraid he would lash out and massacre them all.

But it doesn’t seem like she’ll be fulfilling her life goal after all because now she’s in the air with a group of people looking at her like she has two heads. A woman with pretty red hair, a man with a large bow, and a man with nice glasses towards the front of the jet, were on one side. On the other was a blond man with very long hair, standing up to talk to a man in a purple shirt, and a man sitting by himself with long brown hair. All of their stares were pointed at her, but his seemed to go through her. Like he had x-ray vision and could read her mind.

“Y/n, you can have a seat right there.” Sam said, pointing to an empty seat next to the redhead who only squinted at her. “That’s Natasha. She’s nicer than she looks.”

“No, I’m not.” She said, making eye contact with y/n. “But we’re glad to have you aboard.” Natasha finished, the slightest smile forming at the girl.

“Um... Cap, where are her clothes?” The man from before asked Steve.

“I don’t know. This is what she was wearing, and I didn’t see a wardrobe anywhere, Tony.” Steve sighed, obviously exasperated by even the thought of a conversation with Tony.

Tony looked at the girl expectantly. Was he waiting for her to chime in? Because he’d be waiting a long time. She was trained very well. Talking out of turn was one of the first rules she learned.

“Sweetheart, are you alright? Do you want something to cover up? We have blankets. What about water? You thirsty? Does she even understand a word I’m saying?” Tony’s last question was aimed at the men she entered with.

“I understand. I’m sorry. I’m alright, sir.” And if the team was trying to keep their staring inconspicuous at first, they completely abandoned that when she spoke. Her voice was so small and smooth. Just a little weak from not talking much.

“How about we get you a blanket anyway so I can be a little more comfortable” He nodded towards Sam who left the room and returned with a large blanket. She hadn’t realized how cold she was or that her nipples were pointing through her thin dress. Or that the cotton dress was really just a white slip that was damn near see through.

Maybe the grumpy looking man on the other side of the jet does have x-ray vision.

“Thank you, sir.” Everyone had to be called Sir. She hadn’t been around any women, but she was pretty sure if they looked as serious as the one next to her, she’d call them Ma’am.

“Tony is fine.” He smiled at her.

“Hey. I’m Clint, by the way.” The man on Natasha’s other side said, turning his body to address her. “So, umm... What were you doing up there? Are you working for Hydra?” Other members of the team groaned and scolded him for being so blunt, even though they were secretly happy he asked because they also wanted to know.

“I was knitting.” She said simply. She was going to leave it at that, but she could see the way Clint’s eyebrows almost touched his hairline at her short reply. So she continued with the mantra she was raised with. “My purpose is to make the Soldat happy. He is my mission.”

She had never seen a room of people’s heads turn so fast. Eyes darting from her to the brooding man on the other side of the jet. He squinted his eyes, looking equally as confused.

She hadn’t realized that her mission was right in front of her.

part 2

#bucky #bucky x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes #james buchanan bucky barnes #the avengers #steve rodgers smut #thor smut #bucky imagine #bucky fanfic #bucky x y/n #bucky fluff #chubby!bucky #winter solider x reader #winter soldier smut

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sarcastic-space-gal · 5 years ago

Text

The Dancer with Golden Earrings (Part 4)

Summary: After leaving Brugge, you and Jaskier become even more famous around the kingdoms as you continue to travel around with the witcher. Everything seems to be perfect but after what happened in Brugge your feelings for each other changed: you know there’s more than friendship.

Pairing: Jaskier x Reader;

Word Count: 4k... i’m sorry (no, i’m not.) (Maybe just a little)

Warning: Slow burn, endless amount of Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Protective!Jaskier;

A/N: Hi everyone! Sorry if I didn’t upload for a little bit, I had a small holiday and I finally relaxed, but now I’m back. Enjoy more fluff and even more slow burn hehehe. Disclaimer: I quoted the song “The fishmonger’s daughter” written by Giona Ostinelli, Sonya Belousova and performed by Joey Batey, i do not own it. Hope you’ll like it and, as always, feedback is really appreciated. Love you all xoxo.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Relishing in his scent, you shifted closer to him as his knuckles tenderly grazed over your cheek, his eyes shined in the fire’s light. Your attention was caught by his glance as it pierced the air and fixed on your lips with desire. Every rational thought left your minds while you drifted away, driven by his caresses. Everything was perfect, just as you always imagined: your heart pounding, your hands sweating, the soft, almost imperceptible, quiver of your lips, his knuckles stroking your cheek. Closer and closer and closer, inches by inches you felt his breath on your skin: you knew your faces were just few inches away, your lips were just about to meet and melt in that kiss you so ardently desired as your eyes closed, savoring the moment. But that sensation never came. The campfire, the starts, his face faded away.

With a jolt your eyes reopened quickly as you unfortunately discovered, it was all just a dream.

The same dream that haunted you for months.

Since you and Jaskier shared those moments together in Brugge, your sleep was haunted by those sensations you craved with all yourself. His fresh and now familiar scent, his warmth, his strong arms wrapped securely around you, his fingers through your hair… those feelings never left you. Every night was the same dream, you and him together around a campfire as the stars shine above you, the world around you dissolves, you meet Jaskier’s eyes and when you are about to kiss, you woke up. So your morning routine quickly changed into a heavy sigh and a frustrated sleepy mumbling.

As soon as your eyes opened and you regained consciousness, you heard a sound, a voice. Someone was singing slowly and tenderly, following a simple melody.

Plucking his lute, Jaskier was sitting on a tree trunk, humming quietly and tenderly, he was probably composing something in his mind, while Geralt was having what you supposed was his breakfast.

Trying to brush away the sleepiness, you rubbed your eyes, yawned and got up in a sitting position, making the branches under your bedroll creak. Jaskier turned his head at the sound as his fingers ceased to move on the strings.

“Y/n” he smiled so brightly that you instantly forgot sleepiness and frustration “I hope I didn’t wake you up”

“No, don’t worry Jaskier. Actually, it’s nice that your voice was the first thing I heard today” you said smiling.

Jaskier fought the urge not to melt at your words “Then I should sing every morning”

“Please don’t” Geralt intervened, who kept looking at his breakfast. The bard gasped, pretending to be offended, placing his hand on his chest and winking at you.

Geralt wasn’t a very approachable man but once you go over that hard shell you found a sensitive man full of insecurities. Despite his serious and apparently solitary demeanor, Geralt, as months went by, seemed to change a little. Both you and Jaskier knew he was happy to have someone around him who didn’t call him “monster”, or worse. What seemed to bothering him the most was the bard’s constant comments and claims about their friendship, earning an effortless grumble from the witcher, but you could see the weakest hint of amusement on his face that just confirmed your and Jaskier’s thoughts. The word “friend” never left Geralt’s lips but deep down you knew he cared about him.

Their relationship was quite clear but between you and Jaskier was another kettle of fish. If you were so sure about their friendship, it wasn’t the same for the bard and you. Not that there was something wrong, actually it was the exact opposite.

It happened quite often that you found yourself thinking at the past few months: when you met in Cintra, the days spent to reach Brugge, that day when you decided to work together, the performance in the square… when he saved you from the man who assaulted you… his hand tight around yours… his arms encircling your body steadily. Months went by as you grew closer and closer, laughing together, playing together, pranking Geralt and essentially signing your own death warrant, but the sensations you both felt back in Brugge changed something, in both of you: deep down in your hearts your feelings, guarded from any judgment, were clear as daylight.

At least that’s what you thought.

Geralt fought the urge to shout “Just say that you love each other already!” at least 5 times. Every. Single. Day.

Even to his untrained eyes, your feelings for each other were quite evident, but clearly not for you and Jaskier, and that’s what left the witcher a little confused.

Traveling around with the bard inevitably led to learn more about him: a philanderer, who always flirted with every damsel that smiled in his direction or simply looked at him. So when he started flirting with you and joking around, Geralt thought he was his usual self, but after observing him for a while, he immediately realized he was wrong. The way Jaskier acted around you was completely different, his eyes didn’t burn with lasciviousness or lust but in affection, protectiveness and...love. However you still didn’t confess to each other. Geralt lifted his eyes from his breakfast slowly, almost as if he didn’t want to be caught looking at you two, and smiled.

They met by the will of destiny. Destiny shall bring them together, he thought.

___________________________________________

Autumn was about to end as winter rapidly approached: nights got colder and days got shorter. Summer and its festivals left you and Jaskier with a bag of coins and a bunch of really good memories. Since when you started working together, you established a phenomenal fame around the kingdoms that got you into a fairly high demands for festivals, noble’s personal banquets, public feast and festivity. In order to respond to a frantic schedule and to keep up the pace with the witcher, you and Jaskier traded some of your coins for a beautiful brown stallion. Of course you didn’t have enough money to buy two horses so you decided to ride Pegasus, as Jaskier named him, together.

The bard was actually pretty excited to finally ride a horse after consuming two pairs of boots while walking from city to city, but there was something even more exciting about it.

“Okay, here we go” Jaskier exclaimed before adjusting the saddle and hopping over Pegasus’ back with a smooth, and quite graceful, movement.

“I can hear your boots celebrate” you said looking up at him.

“And my feet too! Come, it’s your turn” he offered his hands out to you with a smile. In that moment Jaskier realized what was gonna happen next and suddenly felt quite excited. Biting your lips you took his hand and got on Pegasus.

“Give me your lute, I’ll take it” you suggested.

Eyeing you from over his shoulder the bard nodded “Oh, sure” he said before lifting the strap and handing the instrument to you as you quickly shove it over your back.

Now that you took away the lute, Jaskier felt your body getting closer to his back, your legs were almost glued together.

“Come on, we have to go” Geralt baritone voice caught your attention. He was already leading the way out of town, his freshly polished swords shined a little even though the sun was completely covered by clouds.

“You don’t have to wait for us anymore, come on Pegasus let’s go” the bard gave a steady yank to the reins and Pegasus started following Roach.

The sudden movement took you off guard as you promptly grabbed Jaskier by his waist tightly in an attempt to not fall off Pegasus. Under his doublet, Jaskier’s muscles tensed a little at the feeling of your arms and hands around him, you were so close that he could smell the delicate and floral perfume you bought when you left Brugge.

He wished, he hoped, he dreamed he could stay in your arms forever, feeling your touch and your warmth around him.

“I think we made a good impression on the mayor” you said, trying to not let the nervousness of the situation take over you.

“Absolutely. I think we found another patron of the arts. He really appreciated our performance”

“Well, I think he preferred the dancing part” you smirked.

“Oh, what are you implying back there?” he asked with a playful tone.

“Come on, we both know who is the best”

“Oh, oh! Starting to steal my lines aren’t you my dear?”

You both laughed, before you continued “We make a great team together”

Without moving his glance, Jaskier smiled “We do”

___________________________________________

The path in the forest suddenly took a rough turn, the witcher instantly recognized where they were and stopped Roach. You and Jaskier halted too.

The weather didn’t get better during your ride, the leaden sky got darker rather quickly, leaving just half an hour of light, more or less.

“We will stay here tonight” Geralt stated before getting off Roach and giving her a small stroke on the neck.

“Well that’s good ‘cause my backside has the exact same shape of the saddle” commented the bard.

Before Jaskier could get off and offer his help, you had already jumped off and took your bag from the saddle. The warmth of your chest on his back was now gone as a cool breeze took his place.

The night went as usual: Geralt wandered off to find something to eat, you and Jaskier placed your bags on the ground then sat next to each other and talked for a little. Your frenetic life didn’t leave much time for you two to actually sit down and talk comfortably, there was always an interruption of some sort and when you were in a city to perform, when you finished you were just too exhausted and dragged yourselves to sleep. However you tried repeatedly to have just few minutes alone, because you knew you had many things to talk about, but the occasion never came.

“It’s such a delightful sensation, my feet aren’t sore at all” you mentioned looking at him.

“A dancer that complains about sore feet? That’s quite rare”

“True” You chuckled “Actually I didn’t think the lute was so uncomfortable to carry, it can be rather heavy sometimes. I don’t know how can you carry it around all day long”

Well, now I know how he sculpted his back and arms, you thought.

“Just one of my many qualities.” he winked “It’s the burden I must carry for spread my art to all the kingdoms”

While listening to his hilarious description, you brought you hand to your shoulder and massaged it, your eyes contorted in a small painful expression.

“But I have to say, after a while you get used to it you- Y/n? What is it?” he said, his smile dropping.

“Just a little sore on my back and shoulders…”

“Come here” he said steadily.

Your eyes darted up to him but did what he said and scooted closer. Placing his hands on your shoulders he made you turn away so that he could massage your upper back with ease. His warm hands soothed your tired muscles almost immediately.

“Thank you Jaskier” you said, feeling you heart hammering in your chest “Do you need it too? I will gladly reciprocate”

“Well, I must say I’m not so sore even if your hug was quite tight” he said playfully.

“But you didn’t pull away from it” you smirked over your shoulder. His hands stopped moving and slowly slid down your arms, goosebumps appeared on your skin, and that wasn’t because of the cold. Turning slowly, your eyes met and none of you noticed how close your faces actually were.

“Because I didn’t want to” he whispered. Jaskier’s blue irises moved from your eyes to your lips many times, his hands went to find yours.

“JASKIER!”

The bard almost jumped off his skin after hearing Geralt, who quickly approached you holding a dead animal in one hand and a pink… button-down. Not any button-down. His button-down. The original white color was now spotted with bright pink irregular spots.

“What did you do?” he grumbled.

“Oh,” he paused “the laundry maid probably washed it with my red doublet” laughing nervously, he rubbed behind his neck.

“That was the only-” the witcher didn’t have the chance to finish because you cut him off.

“Don’t worry Geralt I’ll take care of it, I know some tricks” you suggested taking the shirt from his hand with a small smile “Even if the pink would suit you better”

Jaskier started laughing before the witcher shot him a dirty look, ending his laughter.

When night came, Geralt’s button-down was finally back to his normal white color and dinner was delicious, however Jaskier couldn’t not think at the moment when he was alone with you and the chance that faded away with the witcher’s scream. As every other time, you got interrupted by something, it was so frustrating.

Trying to calm down a little, he took the lute and started playing a soft melody and hummed along with it, searching for the right intensity and rhythm.

The music rapidly made everyone fall asleep, but Jaskier didn’t stop, he wanted to find the rhymes he needed to complete the verses and night always brought a good amount of inspirations. Few hours went by, midnight had already passed as the temperature dropped, Jaskier noticed it because you started shivering under your blanket. His fingers immediately ceased to move on the strings as he got up, quietly trying to not wake you up and took his blanket. Branches creaked a little under his feet before he dropped on his knees and covered you, hoping your shiver would quickly stop. They did.

I have so many things to say to you, so many feelings, but three words would be just enough, he thought while looking at your sleeping form. He would find a way to finally talk to you, at any cost, but for now he had to sleep for a little while, the next day would have been another sore backside day. With a sigh, he got up.

“When will you talk to her?”

The witcher had watched the all scene from his spot on the ground.

Jaskier turned with wide eyes “Geralt? What are you doing?!”

“I can’t fucking sleep”

“i swEAR ON MELITELE-”

___________________________________________

When you woke up, the sun still hadn’t show up through the trees. Sleeping in the woods, mostly during autumn and winter, obviously had its downsides for example shivering all night like a leaf in the wind. However, you quickly realized, you weren’t freezing at all compared to the other nights. You also realized there was a familiar scent in the air that was surprisingly close to you. A little confused you lifted on your elbows and stared down at your legs, only to find an extra blanket that covered you from your upper body to your feet in a warm hug. Instantly you recognized Jaskier’s blanket and his cologne. You couldn’t stop the smile that formed on your face as you looked at the bard, who was snoring lightly in a peaceful sleep, covered with only a thin piece of fabric.

After few minutes the boys woke up as you got ready for the day. Approaching Jaskier you handed him his blanket.

“Thank you so much Jaskier” his hands went to take the folded fabric and your fingers brushed together a little, making his muscles tense a bit.

Brushing away the nervousness he finally responded “I didn’t want you to get sick, we have a performance tonight!”

___________________________________________

When you arrived at the city gates, you were welcomed by a very large group of people who was undoubtedly impatient to make your acquaintance as they greeted you with the warmest smiles and shouts you had ever had. That night you performed in the city tavern, which had a rather ample hall, enough to receive at least half the inhabitants. There were surely more than just half of the people, because the room was now teeming with men and women who waited patiently to enjoy some good music. Geralt had a reserved table, close to the space left for you and Jaskier in order to perform easily, and a nice cold pint in front of him.

As usual your entrance was followed by a thunderous applause as you two positioned yourselves in the middle, Jaskier winked at you and smiled, ready to play his lute. The first ballad was “Winter”, you recognized it since the first note, your arms and legs started moving in immeasurably graceful movements, firstly you were still in your position, then you moved around the room, feeling everyone’s eyes on you. Jaskier followed your lead and walked while giving mighty strums to the lute. Music took over you as you approached in the middle of the hall sharing a long, loving glance at each other, the chemistry you had was almost palpable and such evident it made the words sang by the bard even more magical.

The ballad ultimately ended but the audience asked for another one, to which Jaskier gladly agreed: he loved to be around people and please their requests.

“Oh fishmonger, oh fishmonger” he started and almost immediately the room filled with everyone’s voice, singing along with the bard.

“Come quell your daughter’s hunger

To pull on my horn” he winked.

“As it rises in the morn”

Your dress whirled around following your movement as you passed near the men and women sat at the tables. Precisely when you passed near a small group of men, you didn’t fail to notice a lascivious touch on your thigh. You couldn’t stop dancing but the gesture didn’t go unseen by the bard who fought to maintain his calm and instead opted for a smart move, and changed the lyric a little.

“To fuck with a puck

Lest your grandkid be born

if you touch her it’s your loss

cause I’ll cut your hands off hey ho!”

The smile he had on his face didn’t match the killer glare he gave to the men who quickly gulped and looked away, while everyone else burst out laughing.

“The fishmonger's daughter, ba ba

The fishmonger's daughter, ba ba!”

The last verses were accompanied by loud claps and feet tamping on the floor as the ballad ended.

After at least five or six ballads, one after another, you were both exhausted; the dark sky out of the window suggested it was time to end the evening.

As every other time, it was a success. You both bowed humbly and headed out, Geralt quickly followed behind you, drunkenly stumbling out of the door.

“Have you seen their faces Geralt?” you asked, excitement clear in your voice.

The witcher left out what you supposed to be was a happy hum.

“But have you seen the bard? The talent, the singing,” you poked him in the chest “isn’t it Geralt?”

He just grumbled and brought a hand on his head, the migraine was quite strong.

“You see? He agrees”

Geralt took few steps ahead of you and entered in the inn you would stay in for the night. You and Jaskier stood outside for a little while, enjoying the peaceful silence.

“That was a disappointed growl,” you pointed out lifting your eyebrows “and the audience seemed to appreciate my dance even more”

“Yes, someone surely did” his face darkened, his smile dropped and his jaw clenched. He was referring to the man who touched you. Seeing his expression was upsetting but you couldn’t stop the butterflies that appeared in your stomach just at the thought of Jaskier being protective of you.

What are you thinking, come on, you are his friend, he was just acting like a good friend, you thought with a hint of bitterness in your heart.

“Don’t worry Jaskier, it happens… sometimes there are people that can’t keep their hands to themselves.”

You smiled and his demeanor changed almost instantly “Sorry I can’t stand people that lay their dirty hands on you…”

Bye bye heartbeat.

Taking his hands in yours, you gave them a small squeeze “Thank you. Truly.”

“I actually quite like the lyric that way, you should keep it” you joked.

He chuckled “Just for special occasions, like this”

Silence take over, as you just glanced, getting lost into each other’s eyes.

“Uh, we should… get inside” you said after a long pause.

“Oh, uh, yes, totally, yes”

That night you both had a distressed sleep and when you would finally fall asleep, you would start dreaming about each other, just adding more doubts and hopes. Sitting up in his bed, Jaskier faintly shook his head. That was it, he had to talk to you about his feelings even if that would ruin your friendship, he couldn’t take it anymore, he had to take the risk. Little did he know, that you were thinking the same thing.

___________________________________________

At the beginning, it was only little rain, then, in a blink of an eye, it started pouring. The three of you left the city at dawn, you rode through another wood for few hours, midday still hadn’t come when Geralt basically ordered you to stay there. People in the city have warned you there was something lurking in that forest, surely a job for a witcher, who promptly prepared his swords and ventured through the trees. When Geralt left, the sun, which was shining in the clear winter sky, rapidly got covered by cloud decks, but the temperature was still acceptable, so you and Jaskier decided to walk together for a bit. You left Pegasus at the camp with all your bags and went out in the wood: that’s when it started pouring. Obviously, you were already to far away to come back at the camp before getting all your clothes drenched in water.

“We have to find a shelter!”

“Over there! I think a saw something” you pointed through the trees covering your head with your scarf.

When you arrived in the spot you had mentioned, you found a small cave near to some huge fallen rocks.

“Y/n I didn’t know you were an elf, your sight is incredible”

“I’m not the one who has pointy ears” you smirked.

Jaskier’s lips curved in a “o” shape and his eyes widened “I don’t have pointy ears!”

“You sure? I can see them” you couldn’t hold back a laugh.

“Oh is that so? Come here you!” he said grabbing you by your waist and lifting you up before taking you into the small cave.

You burst out laughing before you were (reluctantly) released from his grasp and your feet touched the ground again.

Jaskier was now right in front of you, small raindrops were streaming down his handsome face, his blue eyes fixed onto yours. Many times you hoped, you dreamed about that moment, all the words you would have said, how you would have taken each other’s hands in yours, how you could have stopped your heartbeat to hammer in your ribcage, but every plan you made, faded away.

Your hand went to his cheek as Jaskier fought the urge to not melt under your tender touch.

Without a word, Jaskier’s hand went instinctively to cup one side of your face, his thumb rubbed on it gently feeling the raindrops falling down his fingers as he slowly got closer, just like in your dream, but that time he didn’t fade away.

Your eyes closed as your lips melted together in a beautiful, passionate kiss, that kiss you both ardently desired for too much time. Your hands moved from your cheeks and encircled each other’s body in a tight hug as you felt Jaskier’s arm travel behind your head, his fingers through your hair made goosebumps appear on your wet skin.

When you parted, you had the brightest smile drawn on your face, while the bard couldn’t stop looking at you, at your face, at your wet hair, at your soft lips. Words couldn’t describe the blissful feeling of happiness that warmed his heart.

You met by the will of destiny. Destiny brought you together.

But destiny is blind and inscrutable, it likes to play and things sometimes just don’t go as you wished they would.

Part 5

TAG LIST: @alyxkbrl @dancingwith-thesunflowers

#jaskier x reader #the witcher fanfic #the witcher #joey batey #jaskier #jaskier reader insert #jaskier fanfic #geralt of rivia #jaskier fluff

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klynn-stormz · 5 years ago

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Legally Swan

Chapter 5

Look at me posting two weeks in a row! And I even have a bunch of chapter 6 written, I am on a roll! Anyway, here is the next chapter of Legally Swan, let me know what you think :)

AO3: 1 I 2 I 3 I 4 I 5

She wasn’t sure where she was running too until she was inside the salon. It was roughly 10 minutes from campus, a smaller stand-alone building on the street, the outside showed age, but in a cozy homey way. It had a red brick front, cracked and washed from time, a cursive open sign with a smiley face hung on the inside of the door. Walking inside, the smell of nail polish, hair color, and rubbing alcohol immediately calmed her. The salon seemed frozen in time. Stuck in the unfortunate year of 1976, blue and white checkered tiles lay across the walls, the floor the same retro blue as the tile with a swirly design that, if stared at for too long, could make one throw up or faint. The ceiling was normal, save for the harsh florescent lights and one large globe light (it was a few shiny mirrors away from a disco ball). Emma loved all of it. No one came over to greet her, so she took it upon herself to find an available technician and sit down, hands out.

“A manicure please.” She sniffed, her heart was still hurting from the encounter with Neal and his fiancé.

“Rough day?” The technician quietly asked. Her black hair was cut into a cute pixie cut that complemented her jaw line. She had pale skin, nearly milk white, and rosy lips. Emma noticed how kind her chocolate brown eyes seemed as she began to soak Emma’s nails.

“You have no idea.” Emma sighed.

“Manicures are for getting all the bad out and keeping the good in. If you want to rant to me you can, it’ll make you feel better.” Her smile was shy and soft, warming Emma, who was in desperate need for a confidant and friend.

“Well get ready for an insanely stupid story. I’ll tell you as long as you promise to give me an honest answer on how stupid I am.” After the technician nodded, Emma began her story.

---

After about an hour or so, with her nails looking fantastic, Emma was finished speaking, now waiting for the technician to say something. The woman studied Emma’s nails, finishing up the hand massage and making sure there were no flaws.

“So, in conclusion, you followed your ex, who broke up with you because he thought you were to pretty and dumb to be with him, to Harvard. You wanted to prove to him you are pretty AND smart, and maybe he would take you back. But, instead, you find that you love the classes, met a super-hot smart British, lawyer in training, found your ex was a tool who cheated on you because you didn’t count, and has a bitchy fiance who looks like a goddess, dresses like she’s at a funeral, and has a vendetta against you for being here.”

Emma blinked. That was the perfect summary of everything that had happened.

“Um, yeah pretty much. Sound horrible hearing it from someone else.” She felt another pang of humiliation.

“Not horrible.” The woman smiled kindly, “You wanted to feel seen and loved.”

“How did you know that?” Emma asked, stunned. What was it with the random strangers she met here reading her so easily?

“I know a little bit about that. Had someone I thought I loved, he decided he didn’t love me and kicked me out. That wasn’t the worst part though! I could handle him making me leave, but he kept my dog.” She turned her sad gaze to a picture frame on the counter, it was a picture of a little golden retriever puppy.

“That’s horrible.” Emma glanced down at Henry, who was curled up in her purse, content to watch the goings on and his person. “I can’t imagine what I would do without Henry.”

The technician smiled softly, wistfully and agreed. “It’s been nine months and it still hurts to think about my poor pup with him. I hope he’s being treated right.”

“I’m so sorry, that is the worst. I’m Emma, by the way.” Emma introduced herself. Realizing she still didn’t know this woman’s name.

“It’s nice to meet you Emma, I’m Mary Margaret.”

---

They talked for a while, Mary Margaret decided to give him a full spa treatment—besides the manicure she was getting a facial and pedicure—so they could talk more. Emma felt like she had found a close friend in Mary Margaret, someone she could confide in and laugh with. It was in the middle of them talking about Emma’s encounter with Killian that a UPS delivery man walked in the door. The change in Mary Margaret was immediate. She stiffened and tried to hide behind her hair, seemingly forgetting her pixie cut. She must have had long hair at one point, and Emma made a note to ask her that story later. When she realized that hiding wasn’t working, she turned her back to face him and made herself busy sorting through her workstation, much to Emma’s bemusement.

In the meantime, she studied Mary Margaret’s reaction, she was definitely trying to hide from the delivery man. The man was glancing around the salon as he waited for signatures. When he saw Mary Margaret, he straitened up and a hopeful look came into his eyes. With a quick look at the receptionist, who was lagging on the signature, too busy on her phone to do much, he walked towards them. Emma was fascinated by the scene unfolding in front of her, she felt like she was watching a movie, on the edge of her seat to see what happened next.

“Mary Margaret!” The man greeted happily. “It’s been a long time, over a year, right?”

“David.” Mary Margaret greeted quietly, nervously moving to tuck her hair behind her ear, and blushing when she realized it was too short to do so. “How are you?”

“I’m great! Picking up extra shifts at the animal shelter still, and delivering packages in the meantime. How are you? Your hair is shorter than last time I saw you.” He paused, slight worry crossing his face. “Not that it doesn’t look good, I mean really you look amazing, not that you don’t always look amazing. I mean to say it’s a good look on you, not there there’s a look that’s bad on you, and I see that you’re still doing nails and hair. Oh, that’s not a bad think though! You were always fantastic at it, I just thought I’d see how you’re doing and say that it’s really good to see you, and now that I know you’re here maybe we could catch up sometime.” Emma could see all the nerves fluttering around him as he stumbled over his words.

“That would be um, yeah maybe sometime soon.” Mary Margaret blushed again and looked at her work station. The receptionist called for David, finally having signed for the packages, and he somewhat reluctantly said his goodbyes and left.

Emma and Mary Margaret were silent for a moment. Then Emma broke it. “Soooo, what’s the story there?”

“No story!” Mary Margaret blurted out. “I mean I’ve known David since I was in eighth grade and we were friends for a little bit. Why? Did it look like there was a story?”

Emma chuckled at the nerves Mary Margaret was showing. “It definitely looks like there’s a story. He totally likes you, and you obviously like him. What’s holding you back?”

“It’s a really long story.” Mary Margaret started to brush it off, until she saw Emma’s skeptical expression and raised eyebrow. “Fine, we still have ten minutes left on your facial.”

It turned out to be a great story. Mary Margaret had met David when she was in eighth grade, right after he had moved to the area, and they had taken to each other quickly; though not before Mary Margaret had punched him in the face for making fun of her. They had started dating in tenth grade, when they both finally admitted how in love they were with the other. Unfortunately, David had an overbearing father that loved to control all aspects of his life, so, their senior year, he had forced David to breakup with Mary Margaret to date someone from a respectable background. David and Kathryn had dated for a few years, then gotten engaged. Mary Margaret had been devastated, naively thinking that David would jump ship at 18 to go back to her. When she heard the news, she had cried, gotten drunk and ended up sleeping with a good friend of David’s. She still couldn’t look Victor in the eyes after that.

David and Kathryn had been married for about five years before the gossip mill started turning about them not having kids and never being in public together. However, it wasn’t until their seventh year of marriage (nine years of being together), that they officially separated and divorced. Mary Margaret had always held out hope that true love, as she put it, would prevail. But it never did. Now whenever they saw each other there was this stilted awkward conversation, both desperately in love with the other yet so afraid to say it. The latter was an observation on Emma’s part, Mary Margaret convinced that David had no feelings for her anymore. She had met Lance three years before, not long after accepting that nothing would ever happen with David, and tried to move on with her life. When she saw David in town, she did everything she could to hide from him, hence him not having seen her for a year. Turned out that Mary Margaret was very stealthy.

Lance was everything she thought she deserved, and that wasn’t a good thing. Mary Margaret had grown up with a harsh step mother that belittled her and tried to control her. After the heartbreak that was David, a lot of her hold out confidence had vanished, she had found Lance, a man that played on her insecurities, verbally abused her on a daily basis, isolated her from friends and family, and when he got bored, threw her out of their house. So, there she was, without love, without family, without many friends, and without her precious dog.

Emma listened to all of this (the story well over 10 minutes by the end) with an abject sorrow and fascination. If she was being honest with herself (something that only seemed to happened when it wasn’t about herself) she found it much like the soap operas she would watch with her mother. So many interconnecting stories, all very dramatic, but in this case, no less real. She felt empathy for Mary Margaret, and felt a kindred bond. Both of them had gone through a lot, and now were trying to make themselves better. When Mary Margaret mentioned that she wished Lance would take her back, if only so she wouldn’t be so lonely at times, Emma spoke up.

“Don’t sell yourself short Mary Margaret, you deserve more than that kind of life. You deserve happiness with someone who loves you for you.” She wasn’t sure if that helped as Mary Margaret immediately teared up.

“Thank you, and don’t forget Emma.” She paused to compose herself. “You deserve the same. There’s always hope for a better future.”

---

Emma was thinking about that later that week. It was Friday night and she had gone through all of her classes with nerves and piles of homework to show for it. Her desk was currently piled high with her textbooks and books borrowed from the school library to study more. ‘You deserve the same’, Mary Margaret’s voice echoed as she reflected on her week. She knew deep down that she was right, and maybe that meant letting Neal go, but she still had to try right? She owed it to herself to keep going and to keep trying to be the best she could be.

Her phone rang on her nightstand. The cell itself was a standard phone, but the case was something else. Ana had given her the case for her birthday, saying Emma’s phone needed more personality. It was pink, fuzzy and sparkly. Honestly, Emma wasn’t quite sure where Ana had gotten it, but it must have cost a lot, but it made her smile when she saw it. The name on the screen made her smile even more, it was Rapunzel.

“Hey! I’ve missed you guys this week!” Emma said after she answered.

“Emma!!!” She heard at least three different voices screaming her name.

“Guess where we are?” Ana cried; her excitement almost visible through face-time. Emma couldn’t tell where they were, besides it being a clothing store.

“Where? Shopping?”

“I’m getting MARRIED!” Rapunzel screeched, coming into view on the phone in a white gown. She was jumping up and down so much that she ended up falling off the pedestal with a loud thump.

“What?” Emma asked, surprised. “To whom?”

“Oh my gosh, his name is Eugene and he is the most adorable guy ever. Emma you will love him!” Rapunzel was getting up off the floor, with some difficulty due to the tight mermaid style dress. “I met him like a month ago and he was this ‘bad boy’ going by Flynn, but he is the biggest sweetheart!”

“Wow, that’s crazy.” Emma wasn’t sure what to say, she didn’t even know who this guy was and Rapunzel had only known him for a little bit. Worry for her friend temporarily replaced her own issues.

“Don’t worry.” Ana whispered into the phone after Rapunzel went to try on a new dress. “I totally had one of my friends to a background check on him, Kristoff knows this guy who knows a cop. He came up clean, Eugene did that is. Kristoff did too, but well this isn’t about him. And I put him through my tests. You know the ones where I make R like an hour late to a date or call with and emergency to see how he would react. He passed! He even let R and I drag him shopping, he sat in the mall for like 3 hours for her. I had to have a talk with R because there was no way I was going to let her marry a man she just met, not after my Hans debacle, and of course you remember me telling you about my sister and how mad she was! Yikes. But I promise he’s good! Besides, if he’s not we know how to get rid of him and you can be my lawyer! Won’t that be fun?” By the end of Ana’s monologue Emma was laughing. She had missed her friends fiercely and hearing them made everything better.

She talked to both of them for a while longer, helping critique the wedding dressed and catching up on their lives. When she hung up, she laid on her bed a stared at the ceiling. Not for the first time, loneliness swelled in her heart. She was thousands of miles away from her mother, from her friends, from her life. She tried not to cry while thinking about her family, she had had to fight for it, but somehow, she got one. What was she doing so far away from it? Then she thought about the past week and how much she was enjoying her classes, sure she met a few bumps in the road, but what was that compared to doing something she knew in her soul would be a part of her life. While trying to dispel the melancholy she heard a soft knock came on her door.

Emma curiously moved to the door and opened it. On the other side stood a young woman in muted colors. Her hair was blonde and pin straight, she had kind blue eyes that gave away the nerves she was feeling, she wore a gray Harvard sweatshirt and simple black leggings. Shifting her hips, she opened and closed her mouth a few times before going for it.

“Hi, are you um, are you Emma Swan?” She asked shyly, her eyes moved to a point out of Emma’s vision, before returning to hers.

“Yeah, that’s me.” Emma responded.

“Hi, yeah, I’m um Ashley.”

“Hi.” Emma was confused as to why she was at her door. She had met a few of the girls in the dorm but they were all busy with classes, so there wasn’t much of a chance to socialize with them.

“So, with it being the new semester and all, a few of us wanted to get together and have a party. You know, one more before the year gets crazy.” She laughed, but it was a high pitch nervous laughter that set Emma on edge, especially when her eyes once again moved to a point out of Emma’s field of vision.

“A party? That sounds fun.” Emma said slowly, wondering what was going on.

“Yeah, it’s going to be very fun. And well I wanted to invite you. I know it’s your first year and I wanted to make you feel welcome.” Ashley stumbled over her words a bit, her eyes darting between Emma and the unknown point. “It’s going to be tomorrow and well, here’s the address.” She shoved a piece of paper into Emma’s hand.

“Um, yeah that sounds fun. I’ll definitely be there.” She was still wary about the whole thing, but a party might help her get a little bit of the homesickness gone.

“Oh!” Ashely paused and gulped. “I almost forgot one thing.”

“Yeah?” Emma’s lie detector was flashing red in her mind.

“It’s a costume party!” Ashley tried for excitement but her voice squeaked out, breaking. “You know, something to really help everyone let loose before the whole semester.”

“A costume party?” Emma echoed.

“Yup, so have fun with a costume, I’ll see you tomorrow night.” Ashley practically ran away as soon as the sentence finished.

Emma took a moment to take in what just happened. She leaned casually on her door frame and moved her head minutely to see what Ashley had been glancing at, or in this case, who. Tamara stood at the end of the hall, smirking towards Emma, a trembling Ashely next to her. Emma pretended to look at the address on the slip of paper while her mind raced. Then all at once everything calmed and a grim determination settled in her. She wasn’t going to be put off by this, she was going to show them she didn’t care what they thought of her

#cs fic #captian swan #cs ff #captain swan fanfiction #legally blonde au #legally swan

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pondernce · 6 years ago

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Behind Closed Doors

Hi!

So this is the first thing I’ve written in almost 5 years, and the first for Outlander. (be kind to me). I hope you like it, and much love to @julesbeauchamp for her support <3

Jamie and Claire meet again in less than ideal circumstances...

Chapter 1

He could feel her hands on him, soft, delicate fingers tracing the planes of his back. They danced over scar tissue--the groves hewn into his skin by force--healing the wounds for him. Her mouth dipped to caress his jaw, the feathery brush of lips chased by soft, humid breath. A kiss on his neck. His Adam’s Apple. The juncture where sternocleidomastoid met trapezius. For a moment he let his eyes close, lost in the sensation. She found his mouth then, her legs winding over his hips and guiding him, urging him on.

Immersed in her, the gentle sound of the crashing waves was lost to him. He pressed up onto his hands, wrenching his mouth away because he needed to see her, needed to find those eyes…

Jamie woke up.

His heart raced, his skin was damp with sweat and he was uncomfortable stiff in his pants. As he was every time he remembered. And he always woke before he could see her face again. Aye, he could call her to his mind’s eye and he’d drawn her a dozen dozen times, but nothing so vivid as those dreams. The sketches were never quite right, and he knew that if he could only see her face in those dreams, he’d be able to capture her likeness completely.

With a sigh bordering on a groan, Jamie sat up and glanced at his phone. Five in the morning wasn’t too early, he supposed. At least it gave him time for a workout before he headed to university. A chance to get the nerves out. For some, perhaps, university was an unnerving step into adulthood. Leaving home, moving into a new place, the excitement of newfound independence. But Jamie had already made his move. From Highland Scotland to the Middle East, with the RAF. He couldn’t look forward to seeing what lads and lasses barely out of their A-levels would make of “adulthood” when they had no real responsibilities yet. And what would they make of him?

The streets of London were hardly quiet at this hour, but they were remarkably empty, and that’s what Jamie needed. A place to clear his head- to get her out of his head- before hustling through the crowded halls of King’s College, London. He jogged through the streets of Southwark, dodging the odd dog walker or early commuter. His route to King’s wouldn’t be long, thankfully. His military salary afforded him a nice enough flat close to the school, just across the river. He shared it with another Scot, Rupert, whom he’d served with in Afghanistan. It was a small mercy that Rupert spent almost all his time at his lass’ flat. The bloke was cheerful, but a bit too much sometimes.

Rounding the corner, Jamie checked the time on his FitBit and pushed his pace up, aiming to finish out five kilometers before he made it home. It wouldn’t due to be late for his first course though, even if his schedule for the day of Legal Philosophy and Medical Ethics hardly seemed interesting.

---

Legal philosophy could have been interesting, if the professor hadn’t put half the class to sleep. Jamie wasn’t surprised though, given that the majority couldn’t have been more than 18. High off being in Uni and hardly interested in what the ancient man before them had to say about the foundations of Legalism. The two girls next to him hardly paid attention, too busy giggling. He recognized the blonde from orientation, and she clearly recognized him.

Throughout the lecture he took diligent notes, only to avoid the girl’s eyes. The former soldier nearly bolted when the course ended.

He had nearly two hours before his next course, and plans to meet that bloke from the Rugby team. He’d gone out before orientation, trying to find some way to get involved. Many veterans struggled in university to find community, and he hoped he wouldn’t be another statistic.

“Fraser!”

He turned, smiling over a few startled students to see John Grey speed walking towards him. He was young, but Jamie found he didn’t mind that energy, John seemed a good person.

Smiling, he bumped the shorter man gently on the shoulder. “Good to see ye, I hope yer class wasn’t as boring…”

“Haven’t had class yet, just came early to grab lunch with you. We have practice this afternoon, you know? You’re welcome to come.”

Jamie glanced at his phone and shook his head. “Medical Ethics,” he sighed, “can ye tell I’m keen?” he laughed and shook his head. He wanted to get a background in law before he tried to leap into counter terrorism, and how did medicine relate to that?

“Pity. I hope it’s interesting.”

“I doubt it.”

Jamie didn’t mean to be cynical about university. It was supposed to be an opportunity to make something of himself after his medical discharge. Only, he found it overwhelmingly uncomfortable. And pointless. When he’d been in the war, reviewing briefings and in charge of his men, everything had been urgent. Learning on the fly, under pressure, where attention meant life or death. Here, he had the feeling he’d never need to attend to do well. It was disheartening.

His mind drifted as they ate. His fingers itched for his sketchbook, idle in his book bag. Jamie has taken up the hobby in the barracks, well before he met his muse. But the last two Moleskins had been interspersed with pages devoted to her. It had been a year, he knew he needed to let go. But he couldn’t yet.

“Jamie,” John’s voice cut into his thoughts, jarring the plans for how he’d shade the moonlight dappled on her skin from his thoughts.

“Och, Sorry. What was it ye we’re saying?”

John pursed his lips with that good natured shake of the head Jamie had already come to realize was a habit. “We should get going to class, where’s your head, man?”

The scot blushed, rubbing his hand against the back of his neck with a laugh. “Nothing, sorry. I didn’t sleep well, ye ken?” It wasn’t quite a lie, given he almost never slept well, or the medically recommended amount. With a small nod he grabbed their rubbish, scolding himself internally on the short walk to the bin.

Jamie knew better. He wanted to make something of himself that wasn’t available in the military, and that’s why he was here. He’d done the work, networked with other former soldiers already working for MI5 and in the government, learned what he needed to do if he wanted to work against domestic terrorism. But university should also be for himself, shouldn’t it? A change to live a bit of a normal life, to decompress after so much time at war. He knew he was lucky to even be back in the UK, let alone at a prestigious university. With a sigh and a quick shake of his head, he returned to John.

“I’ll be at practice after my class eh, make it up to you. Ye free for a pint after?” He grabbed his bag and fell into step alongside the shorter man, making a mental note of their plans as John went off about something on the news that morning. His brother was running for Parliament and the whole family had been in politics for centuries. Perhaps someday Jamie would be able to take advantage of such a connection, but presently he just needed the company.

They parted ways at one of the newer campus buildings, all shiny glass and stone. London was like that--an eclectic mix of modern and tradition that had Jamie missing Scotland more than foreign shores ever had. He’d not been home in years, and never truly wanted to go back. At least not yet.

“Excuse me,” he shoulder his way through a gaggle of students in the corridor, looking for the correct room. “104, 106… Christ.” 108 had to be the smallest room in the building, if not on the bloody campus. He’d failed to realize that the modern building connected to one of the oldest buildings, where the rooms became cramped cubicles of stone with sharply pointed windows, more reminiscent of a church than a university. The floor was old oak pitted and polished by centuries of steps, and Jamie could almost trace the path to one of the few available seats left. He was a large bloke--a fact which became abundantly clear as he settled behind the old fashioned desk. His knees knocked against the tabletop when he tried to sit up, forcing him to fold them awkwardly over the side. “Bit cramped, aye?” He joked quietly, meeting the eyes of a petite girl watching him. She flushed violently and nodded, stuttering over her reply.

“It-It’s a small course,” she shrugged finally, milky eyes darting back to her phone.

Jamie hummed, his own phone lost in the bottom of his bag after he got off the tube. After the military he apparently lacked the addiction to smartphones present in the rest of his generation. Or perhaps he was just old. Stretching his legs, he inadvertently cracked his back and sighed in relief, twisting to traction the other side just as another student walked in.

He froze, tracking her steps as she came into the small room. Slightly flustered, curls escaping her high bun and dragging over the material of her lightweight olive jumper, and her arms full of files and textbooks, she was unmistakably the same woman. His muse. Jamie traced every line of her, the smooth curves he knew with his hands and his pencil. He watched the long arc of her graceful neck, so pale and flawless against her dark hair. He couldn’t see her eyes, not yet, and the desire to almost had him squirming in his seat. So distracted was he that he failed to notice she hadn’t taken one of the available seats.

His muse had set down her books at the front of the room, shrugged off her camel overcoat and tossed it carelessly over the podium, carved her name into the ancient chalkboard in neat print, and now stood before them all, introducing the course.

His muse was a professor. His muse was his professor.

The name that had been absent from his syllabus and his memories stared mockingly back at him, stark white on deep green. Dr. Claire Beauchamp.

#my fic #behind closed doors #jamie & claire #prof/student au #if you catch a typo let me know!!#outlander #outlander fanfic #outlander fic

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chloca-cola · 6 years ago

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Incidents

I've decided to pursue my idea of a polyamorous relation between Dante Meande and Vergil and here is the set up to that. It was written in a hurry 😅 and it's hella long

@minteyeddemon (I figure you'd wanna be tagged haha)

Word count: 2,321 ish (sorry I'm on mobile and can't do keep reading cut offs unless someone wants to tell me how anyway lmao)

INCIDENT ONE

Things couldn’t be running smoother at Devil May Cry with two extra hunters -Cassiel and Vergil- it seems the money really began to flow through. Meande took less jobs to stay back at the office to do her paperwork having way more of it now than just a handful of months ago, which left her at the office alone for several days at a time, which she both loved and hated. She loved that Dante’s business was finally looking to the brighter side, but she hated feeling so lonely sometimes.

Most days when she’s caught up on her work, she reads, but this particular day she decided to listen to her playlist of different cello arrangements. She closed her eyes, listening to the melancholic tones, absently miming the finger positions and the bow movements as she did so. Meande was so caught up in the action, she didn’t hear Vergil enter the shop, closing the door behind him, he turned to greet her, but stopped himself in favor of watching her. Having retained the memories of the days his human half spent with Meande, he remembered her telling him that she used to own and play a cello back in Fortuna and that the instrument had been destroyed in the attack.

As he watched her, he felt the same odd stirring he gets off and on when he's around her, it’s rare that he gets any kind of alone time with the quirky girl, so when he does, he tends to memorize everything that’s happening in that moment. He wouldn’t dare condescend to admit aloud that he’s grown quite fond of the shorter girl, which did annoy him in its own right, mainly because he knows she’s with his brother, which subsequently leads to the other part of his annoyance over the situation; Vergil feels Meande is a better fit for him. Dante doesn’t appreciate the finer things that interests Meande like Vergil would. Meande’s gasp finally brought Vergil from his thoughts.

“Oh, heya Dimples. I didn’t hear ya come in.” She was openly embarrassed over being caught, cheeks flushed a lovely shade of pink, causing her freckles to stand out more and she quickly paused the music, motioning for him to bring over the money he earned so she could get to work separating out the funds. He walked over to her desk, holding out the manila envelope for her to take.

“How long did you play?” He asked in his typical matter-of-fact demeanor, which Meande is finally coming to be able to decipher. before she had a hard time deciding if he was being patronizing or sincere, but has learned to watch his microexpressions between how he is when speaking to her versus speaking with Dante.

“I started at four years old, mom said she could see the music in me.” She scratched her shoulder shyly, letting out a small laugh. “Only to someone with psionic powers could a statement like that make any fuckin’ sense.” He gave her a smile and a chuckle, and she leaned her elbows on her desk, cradling her chin in her palms. “You should smile more, I really do like your dimples.” She complimented, which caused him to clam up and made his body tense, like he does every time she says anything sweet to him, and she giggled, having caught onto that fact quickly. His reticent manner was something she also had to get used too, especially after living with Dante who is vocal about many things he feels.

“Your eyes are enchanting.” He stated, rather bluntly, and it completely caught her off guard, causing her to lift her head from her hands. This was the first time Vergil admitted to liking anything about her, Meande was used to him using words like ‘tolerate’ and ‘endure’ when it came to how the elder twin felt about her. “When the early morning light catches them is my favorite. I really see the golden undertones then.” It was the most sincere statement he’s given her that didn’t come off as a lecture and she blushed again, playing with her fingers.

“T-thanks.” She stammered, but all Vergil did was nod as an answer and disappeared up the stairs , leaving Meande alone again. She smiled sweetly at his words, unbeknownst that she wasn’t alone, Cassiel and Dante were both at the door, seeing Vergil and Meande so involved in their own conversation they hadn’t even noticed them.

INCIDENT 2

Dante was over at Meande’s desk, finally having some down time, nuzzling and kissing on her neck, and she giggled, trying in vain to push him away so she could finish her work for the night.

“Meande.” Vergil’s nasally tone was unamused, and it caused the duo to stop what they were doing. Meande looked up at him, blushing but smiling at him, Dante straightened, sitting on the edge of her desk, turned so he could see them both.

“Verg, what’s crackin’?” She asked, picking her pen back up to get back to work.

“May have money from my account?” She looked up at him again, Vergil -like Dante- let Meande keep up with his money from his cuts from missions, and she smiled, nodding cheerily.

“Of course, it’s your money after all, you don’t have to ask me.” She flipping through the notebook that had his account information in it, until she found a page that had a balance on it. “What’s cookin’ good lookin’? How much are you needing?” She glanced back up at him, and noticed he was giving Dante several glances, knowing his twin was eager to know what he would need money for, and it made him seem reluctant to answer her. “Dimples...I’m gonna need to know, so I can properly subtract it from your books.”

“Around six hundred.” Meande fumbled her pen, it clattered loudly against the floor after it bounced off of her desk, as she and Dante both gaped at him, and he tucked his chin in annoyance at them.

“Jeez, Verg, you find a government hooker or somethin’?” Dante teased, finally breaking the silence, and Meande half laughed, moving to pick up her pen. Vergil shot Dante a highly unamused glare, which caused Dante to roar with laughter, and Meande sternly tapped Dante’s thigh with her pen.

“Sure, ok, Vergil...but if you don’t mind me asking, what is it for?” Meande inquired, knowing Vergil hardly ever touches his account, so he has more than enough that six hundred dollars wouldn’t be much. Vergil tucked his chin again, the lightest pink blush gracing his features and she quickly caught on and she gave him a cheeky grin. “Wait, hold the phone. Dimples, you've met someone, haven’t you? You’re buyin’ this special chick somethin’ really nice, huh?” He shot an annoyed glare at her this time, because sometimes she just sounded too much like Dante.

“As a matter of fact, yes.” He confessed, and Meande tried to hide the stab to her heart that admittance committed to her. She knew it shouldn’t hurt her, she’s happily in love with Dante, but there was just something about Vergil that just kept drawing her in. Dante folded his arms over his chest, eyes darting between the two, who were both oblivious to each others feelings.

“Well, well, she’s some really special girl, huh?” Dante interjected, an odd edge in his jovial tones, causing him to sound both teasing and annoyed at the same time, which caused Meande to look up at him, eyebrows quirked in confusion.

“Yeah, she must be.” Meande stated, subtracting the amount from his books, before turning in her chair to their safe, opening it and retrieving his money. “I really need to set you up for an account at the bank instead of keeping this here.” She muttered to herself as she counted out the money for him.

“I like you dealing with my money.” He stated, taking the money from her and she laughed, about to explain she still would be, but she brushed it off for now.

“What are you buying her?” Vergil looked between Meande and Dante.

“It’s a surprise.” He answered simply, before leaving them to their own devices.

“I’m sure it is.” Dante grunted, causing her to give him another confused look.

“I wonder who he met?” She asked him, and he shrugged a shoulder. “Ok, what’s wrong, baby?” She cooed, running her hand up his thigh, and he looked down at her from his perch, wondering if she was really this oblivious, or just pretending to be for him, but he quickly disregarded the thought when she stood and straddled his lap and began kissing his neck.

The next day, Meande was running back from the bank, having convinced Vergil his money would be safer there and that she was still going to tend to it for him, and a pop up rain shower now threatened to drown her. She was holding her empty satchel over her head to shield her dreads from the onslaught, digging in her jeans pocket with her other hand for her keys. Unlocking the door, she flung it open and hurried inside, slamming it shut behind her. She shook the satchel, freeing it of the water, moving towards her desk, but she dropped it on the floor when her eyes landed on the large gift leaning on her desk. A cello with an elaborately tied blue ribbon on the neck just below the nut. Honey eyes wide in shock and mouth agape, Meande gingerly ghosted her fingers over the polished wood.

“Do you like it?” Vergil questioned from behind her and she squealed loudly, thankful she doesn’t teleport or phase anymore from scares, and she turned to him, hand over her heart.

“Don’t sneak up on me like that.” She hissed, heart racing, but the irritation quickly ebbed when his question replayed itself in her mind. “You bought this for me?” She asked, smiling up at him gratefully, eyes shimmering as tears flooded them, and he nodded. “I’m the girl you needed the money for?” Another quick nod, and Dante emerged from the kitchen where he’d been eating leftover pizza, a slice still in his hand. He had seen Vergil bringing the instrument back, knowing all along that Meande was the girl his brother was talking about yesterday. Jealousy surged through his veins like icy gutter water, yet he was also happy that Vergil was slowly opening up to her. He had always known that they would get along if they had gotten the chance to meet, yet he couldn’t help but still be mad at himself for being so right. He didn’t know how to deal with what he saw blossoming before him, he wanted to say something, but what if this is just a friendship? It’s not like Vergil understands how friendships really work, so maybe there should be boundaries explained. "Vergil...I love it, but you didn’t have to buy me this.”

“I did.” He said, flatly, but he held a smile on his lips. “You deserve everything you desire.” Okay, Dante decided that this was not a friendship, at Least on Vergil’s part and he frowned, going back into the kitchen.

INCIDENT 3

Meande stretched, her shoulders and back aching from playing her cello for so long, enjoying finally having one again. Cassiel was listening to her daughter, laid on the couch, eyes closed, relaxing comfortably, while Vergil was sitting at Dante’s desk, admiring her playing. He observed her discomfort and he stood.

“Come with me.” He commanded, taking the cello and bow from her, replacing them in their case, before walking up the stairs. Meande eyed her mother, who shrugged.

“Go on, baby girl, I’ll man the shop for you.” Meande stood and quickly followed Vergil into his room, where he removed his coat and gloves, meticulously setting them on his dresser, and she froze in the doorway.

“Lay on the bed.” She blushed, eyes trailing up and down his toned arms, but she obliged, unsure of what was happening. “On your stomach.” She blinked and flipped over like she was instructed and soon the bed dipped from the pressure of Vergil’s knee and he straddled her back. She was about to protest when it dawned on her, he was repaying her back with a massage like she’d given him before. She blushed, this being the first time Vergil has actively touched her without her coaxing it out of him in some way. His kneading was a little rougher than needed, and he adjusted it with the noises she made. After several minutes, he finally got the pressure right and Meande began to purr, laying her cheek on her hand, feeling the tension leaving her body.

Vergil watched her profile as he worked, Meande’s purring very rhythmic and soft, and he smiled almost warmly, despite knowing he shouldn’t love her. He realizes that is what’s going on now, even if he didn’t want to admit it, but he let himself react to it. He leaned down to her, nuzzling his nose against her neck and up to her cheek, his own deep purring rumbling in his chest. Meande tensed beneath him, her purring ceasing and her honey eyes flew open in surprise.

Vergil lifted his head slightly, letting her look at him better, his own purring grew louder, and she blushed heavily at the look in his eyes. After a few beats, Vergil raised up slightly to allow her to roll over onto her back before he leaned down to nuzzle her again, and she closed her eyes, leaning into the gesture with her own nuzzles, her purring sounding again.

Dante leaned on the door frame with his forearm watching them nuzzling and purring like two dangerous house cats and he knew he needed to confront her about this tonight, before it got out of hand.

#dmc vergil #dmc5 dante #vergil #devil may cry 5 #dmc #dante #devil may cry dante #devil may cry vergil #dante x oc #vergil x oc #dmc5 vergil

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nerdy-flower · 7 years ago

Text

@sinunamor IT IS WRITTEN

Sorry for the heckin long wait ;^; here it is! Ernest Growing Up Part 3/3! (For now~)

(Ernest curses a lot and it’s a little sad at the beginning, otherwise it’s G)

It isn't working.

In spite of everything, Ernest came out of college doing kind of okay. He had an alright resume, a little pocket of savings, some furniture. Better than some kids he sat next to at graduation, for sure. He gets that coveted first apartment to himself- literally a room and a bathroom. The water pressure is like a dog lifting its leg and peeing on him and the neighbours are obnoxious, but it was his. He was paying rent! Utilities! Insurance, even! Life was looking up! Was.

He stayed in the city he went to school in, With his Pop's new condo a half hour away, it didn't feel so far. They'd have dinner all the time. Pop would give him tips on places to go and things to see. At one point, he says he wouldn't have moved here if he didn't know Ernest was staying. Ernest didn't have a great answer for that, tongue sudden;y stuck. They get froyo anyway.

His shit job became two shit jobs and then one again, then two, then three very briefly, then one with occasional paid-in-cash online ads stuff. Maybe illegal? Only in a tax law way, so whatever. He busts his ass- well, some of the time. Sometimes he half-asses it and gets paid anyway, other times he gets fired, depends on the place. What it comes down to is that he never has enough money. All the Gen Z-targeted personal finance advice blogs are shit, too. “Get a roommate!” For where? The cupboard under his kitchen sink?

Actually, in his postal code, someone might take it. But they'd be just as broke as him.

Even now, he feels spoiled and pathetic. Plenty of people just had to make do, they didn't have a Dad to send cheques in the mail, a stepdad to order them groceries online, a Pop to full-on spot them rent money. He tries and tries to make it work and he /can't./

Finally, he picks up the phone. “Dad?”

“Ernest? What's the matter? Is everything-”

“Can I come home?” With his stuff, he means, with the furniture he can't use anymore and his rejected debit card and-

Hugo makes this little noise, a very parental click of concern that sticks right in his chest. “Of course, always.”

Lucien drives him because he's been working solely off his laptop and following Pablo around the East Coast. Ernest isn't a hundred percent on what he does, but it's enough to pay for a rental van and a premium streaming account so commercials don't interrupt their drawn-out silence on the way back North to Maple Bay.

“Do you need to be an asshole about this? I said I was sorry, okay? I'll pay you back as soon as I get money, /god./”

“All I asked,” Lucien drawls, smartass as always. “Is if you wanted me to buy you a bagel. So I'll just buy your least favourite one and we'll carry the fuck on, shall we?”

Ernest officially hates everything forever, but mostly himself.

Dad and Damien welcome them home with big, awkward hugs and lots of understanding when he wants to go to bed straightaway and they left his room the way it was and /fuck/-

Pics or it didn't happen, as the young adults say. If no one sees him crying and hugging his teddy in his mid-twenties, it never took place.

His dignity drops a few more points the next day when he has to beg and plead with his Dad not to tell Pop.

“What if he goes to your place and you're not there?” Hugo insists, hands soapy from washing the dishes. “He'll be so worried!”

“He always calls or texts first, always,” Ernest thrusts another dried plate into the cupboard and balls his fists together. “I'm not gonna pretend forever, honest. /Please/, Dad, just a few more days, that's all I'm asking. It's my thing to tell him, anyway!”

“Okay, okay,” Hugo holds his hands up in a peacemaking gesture. He tucks some overgrown hair behind his ear- shit, he's gone even more grey. His dads are going grey and he can't afford his own Netflips account. “I won't tell him, but if he calls and asks, I'm not going to lie. Alright?”

“Fair enough,” Ernest sighs through his nose, tucking the cutlery away in brooding silence. Goddammit, he's too old to brood. This sucks.

Hugo watches him a minute before draining the sink. “Have you heard from Carmensita? She's back in town, you two should meet for coffee or something. Get your mind off things.”

Ernest swings his head around, barely listening to the second half of the sentence. “She's back already? I know she was talking about it, but- yeah. I'll text her.”

He does, and they meet up, later that day because his schedule is open indefinitely. He waves to River and Crish, doing something with multiple types of sportsballs in the Cahn family driveway and thankfully too focused to do more than wave back. Carmensita comes strolling out of Mat's house in a flower-print romper and jogs up the sidewalk to him and he's never, ever been so happy to see someone.

Except that time he got lost at Disney World, but we don't talk about that.

“There's my favourite human!” Ernest laughs as she hops up to hug him. He insists he never got taller, she got shorter, but she still gives the greatest hugs. “No more braids, huh? That's a big change.”

Carmensita giggles and teases her fingers through her mohawk, her sides shaved down to thatches of brown fuzz. “I just got it done, do you like it? It's pretty different, for me at least.”

“I love it,” Ernest scratches one side of her undercut until she playfully bats his hand away. “Nah, it suits you. Makes you look cool and smart, like you're gonna mess somebody up but with your know-how instead of your fists.”

“Overly specific, but I'll take it.” Carmensita grins, a flash of snarky white and he feels like he can stand up straighter. They wave again at the over-active River on their way across the cul-de-sac, and 'Sita leans in to him, talking behind her hand. “You heard about Ashley and Mary, right?”

“Yeah, I sure did.” Ernest glances across the street, almost feeling eyes on him from Mary's house. Which used to be Julian's house, but then Julian and Damien talked and agreed to sell it to Mary shortly after her divorce so she could get out of Damien's spare bedroom and have enough space that custody would be a non-issue. Julian was totally cool with it, because he was practically moved in with Mat anyway and Amanda was fully settled into New York- “God, this neighbourhood is weird.”

“Something in the groundwater, I think,” Carmensita laughs, shaking her head. “Craig's the real deal though. He's legit totally cool with it. I was here in time for the first summer BBQ and I expected, y'know, some awkwardness.”

“Folks around here save all the awkwardness for their kids,” Ernest drawl to make her laugh again. It's nearly sticky outside, but he refuses to remove his sweater. He goes bare-armed for exactly two months a year, tans up real nice, and goes right back into his cotton cocoons of happiness. “So how's life n'stuff?”

“Life n'stuff is pretty good. I've got all my boxes unpacked in less than two months, so that's my record.” She slips off her glasses to polish them on her shirt. “I'll show you my place when we get there, I'm teaching piano lessons out of my living room right now, and- oh! You know what tonight is, right? Are you busy?”

Ernest shakes his head to both, he's been too depressed to check social media and he definitely isn't busy. “What's tonight?”

Carmensita grins wide and imitates an airhorn to punctuate her words. “Open mic night! Woo woo woo!”

It's a little different to watch from the audience with everyone else. The Cahn twins are working part-time at the Spoon now and they're the ones doing the backstage stuff. Lucien drives into town for it, Pablo's tour wrapping up with 'boring business shit' that he'd apparently rather skip. The three of them claim a corner table with high stools and enjoy the quirky parade.

His dad was right, it is nice to forget about his bullshit for a while. He recognizes kids he used to see racing around the playground strumming guitars and nervously messing up their lyrics. Back then he would have made fun of them, and maybe he does chuckle a little, but he gives them credit. He hasn't been on a stage in- oof, at least a year. Discounting karaoke, of course. He wonders what Disaster Master Quinn is up to these days.

The night ends, early enough for all the teens to go to bed, with a pretty tight Sunstroke Project cover on theramin. There is much clapping and whooping and thanking before everyone starts clearing out. Carmensita chugs the rest of her coffee, discreetly wiping her mouth on her sleeve. “Alright, let's pay our tabs and head upstairs. Who's feeling Mario Party?”

“You know I am,” Lucien smirks as they gather their things. “None of the car ones though, I hate that shit.”

Ernest loses the thread of the conversation because there's a hiss of static in his ears. He can't pay his tab. His chequing account is a negative number and he can't remember if their register takes credit or not but that's not an option either. He's too broke. To pay for a goddamn /tea./ God, why does he only clue into shit when it's too late?

The thought of asking them to pay makes him wanna puke, so he performs the maneuver that saved him from many a terrible college party: the Irish Goodbye.

The crowd makes it easy to slip away. He lopes through the parking lot and heads into the undeveloped no-man's land behind the softball field. He shuts off his phone, which any rational instinct would encourage him not to do. He's gonna take the long, long way home and- then what? Isn't that just the biggest fucking question of his life- and then what, you witless idiot?

The static does not stop as he hurries through the warm summer air, eventually cutting across the street and walking down the bay. His pulse is really high for no friggin' reason and he probably couldn't type a text if he needed to- wait, is this a panic attack? No, come on. He's too old to get on any of his dads' benefits. He can't be doing this. He can't, he can't-

A car drives up slowly beside him, and he has a split-second of facing his death before the window rolls down to reveal two annoyed, very familiar faces. “You live in my Dad's house, what the hell was your long-term plan with this?”

“Look, I'm sorry, I couldn't pay and I-” Ernest rakes a hand through his hair, pulling on his scalp. “I'm sorry I'm such a fuck-up, okay? I shouldn't have come out tonight, I'm no good to be around right now.”

Carmensita runs her tongue over her bottom lip. “You ditched us over a four-ninety-seven tab?”

“I called it.”

She scowls, undoes her seatbelt, and clambers out of the passenger door, stomping around to his side. “Give me your face, right now. C'mere-”

Ernest hunches his shoulders so she can reach, mostly out of confusion. She takes his cheeks in her warm hands and paps them with each word, like she's trying to wake up a drunk guy in a movie. “We're not hanging out with your wallet! We want to hang out with /you,/ if you'll stop! Being! Such! A! Dumbass!”

“Can you stop smacking my face?”

“Maybe,” Carmensita drops her hands after two more, crossing her arms. “Seriously though, not cool. What's gotten into you?”

“Dude, I forgot that I couldn't afford to buy a bagel, like how fucked am I?” Ernest scrubs his face, palms burning with his need for a shave. “Everything's so messed up right now. I feel like a complete waste of space.”

“Again with this?” Lucien makes an irritated noise from the car, leaning out the window. “Like you're the only one who's ever been broke. How much money do you think I had after college?”

“Why do you think I'm living over my dad's shop?” Carmensita tilts her head at him. “I know you're upset, but you're not on your own, for god's sake. I would have bought you that bagel anyway, you didn't need to freak out.”

“Guhhhh,” Ernest pushes the heel of one palm against his eye. “I'm sorry I'm such an idiot. I can barely fuckin' think right now.”

“Do you wanna go home or do you wanna play video games with us?” Lucien asks, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. “No judgment either way. But maybe decide quick, before some cops come by and get all up in our business.”

Ernest would really like to bury himself in all of his blankets but, in the interest of not continuing to screw up his personal relationships, he picks the right choice. “Video games, please.”

They collectively kick the CPU's ass at getting stars and Carmensita hugs him before he leaves, Lucien's taillights in the distance. “You're not a waste of space, okay? It'll get better, just don't let things get this bad again.”

He almost misses being the one to cheer her up. It's a shitty thing to miss, but at least he didn't go home feeling all squashed on the inside.

Ernest gets up the guts to call his Pop a few days later. He's totally cool about it, even though he sunk how much into that one room. Somehow that makes Ernest feel worse.

“Trust me, my credit in my early twenties was a /mess,/ I was really stupid with my money. It was bad. Like, scary bad. Your gramps flipped his lid when he saw my pile of bills on the table.”

“Mine's a mess too,” Ernest mumbles, knees folded up to his chest as he leans back against his headboard.

“Yeah, but it's more fixable than it looks. It'll just take time. If you owned a car or something that would be kinda rough, but hey, I turned it around, didn't I? Before I met your dad too, no way would he have dated pre-grad school me. Nuh-uh,” Pop laughs, a hiss-crack in his ear because he does this weird almost-silent laugh that Ernest makes fun of constantly. “Tell you what, I'll pay off your card so you're not getting those assholes calling you every day. Then you can focus on finding a job, I heard they have a youth program you'd still-”

“I'm sorry,” Ernest manages to wobble out, a big lump in his throat as the tears burn.

“What?” Pop's voice turns all anxious and concerned, which hurts even worse. “Hey, kiddo, it's alright. You don't have to be sorry. I know you were trying your best, it's really tough when you're starting out alone-”

“I'm so sorry,” Ernest hiccups, covering his face with his hand as he snots. “I can't pay you back and I probably never will and I'm gonna have to put Dad in a nursing home with cockroaches because they just slashed teacher pensions again and everything is so fucked /forever./”

“Ernest, Ernest, listen to me,” Pop's voice strains against the weak receiver of his phone. “Nothing is fucked, okay? No one's mad at you. We'll fix this, I promise. Ernest?”

It's a rough month, for sure. Pop comes to visit. Him and Dad have been really good at not-bitching-at-each-other since he crossed that adulthood threshold. Maybe it was child support that made them fight after all. Pop used to get these little digs into dad, telling him to quit and go into something with a future. Maybe him and money are just cursed or something.

He loses it again when they hug him at the same time. He's only gotten those at graduations and he's all out of those now. “We would do anything and everything for you, do you hear me?” Dad is halfway out of his lawn chair, the three of them on the back porch, having borrowed a little barbecue from Brian. “I'd rather have you here than starving in some apartment somewhere. Everything's going to be fine, mijo. I promise.”

“I'll bring you down for a visit whenever you want.” Pop assures him as he's leaving, hugging him again. It's so weird that he's taller than him now. “If you want to move, I'll help. But honestly, you might be better off here for a bit. Rent is going crazy in the city and it's not worth it.”

“How does a couple hours' drive make such a huge difference?” Ernest sniffs, shuffling in the driveway.

“I mean, I could explain but it's really boring.” He smiles and ruffles his hair. “You'll be alright, kiddo. Don't worry so much, okay?” Easier said than done, but it's well-meant. He accepts it.

He does qualify for extra help at the employment place, but unfortunately he has a humanities degree, which means no marketable skills. Which means part-time at the small bougie grocery store downtown, which is in fact a hell of a lot better than nothing.

“Excuse me.” An older woman clutching a plastic handbag strolls up to him while he's stocking shelves. “Do you have any of those sweet honey mustards?”

“No ma'am, sorry. We ran out.”

She narrows her beady eyes at him. “Why?”

Most of the time.

Carmensita's doing pretty well for herself between the Coffee Spoon and her piano lessons. Not move-into-her-own-place good, but she's got a nice little loft space over the shop. Sick prints up all over the walls, those fairy lights she's always liked, her keyboard set up beside her computer desk all tidy for when the kids come by. Ernest spends his off-hours googling potential side-hustles and making music for the first time in a while.

“-Practically everybody's stressed, yes!” Ernest snaps his fingers with one hand and runs his beats with the other. “But they press through the mess, bounce cheques, and wonder what's next!”

“In the heights! I buy my coffee and I go,” Carmensita sings clear as anything, laying into her keys. “Set my sights on only what I need to know...”

“Girl, how'd you get so good at that? Damn,” Ernest shakes his head after they stop recording. “It's like Mandy Gonzalez was right here.”

“Vocal coaching, son!” Carmensita grins, sticking out her thumb and pinky finger and twisting her wrist. “Taught me how to sing from the diaphraaaaaaagm.”

Ernest cracks up at the low note she hits, spinning around in her chair and staring at the plastic glow-in-the-dark stars stuck to the ceiling. “Hey, do you ever feel bad for being happy? Like, you're not supposed to be, or something?”

“Hell yeah, all the time,” Carmensita stretches, laying out on her secondhand piano bench and popping her back. “Like if I'm having a good day I get thinking, 'oh but if I was at X point, I could be doing Y.' I think I'm scared I'll get complacent or something.”

“Yeah,” Ernest sits up, catching his feet on the carpet. “But like, I don't know how long our whole generation's gonna be stuck like this. So if we can't enjoy this...”

“Oof, heavy stuff.” Carmensita swats at the bag of mini Oreos until he passes it to her, grabbing a handful himself. “This isn't so bad though. Who knows, maybe we'll look back with nostalgia goggles and miss it.”

“Yeah.” He settles back in the chair, toying with the music program on his aging laptop. “Maybe.”

Carmensita sits up, tugging her off-the-shoulder t-shirt back down where it had ridden up on her belly. “Wanna eat pot brownies and watch Bebop again?”

Ernest scoffs. “Is that even a question?”

By the time Pablo and Lucien come down for Thanksgiving Part One (there's always cliffhanger holidays with divorced parents, but it's not so bad anymore, it's just a part of it), his life has a routine. He's too grown to resent 'being another cog in the machine' in any significant way. Predictable income and free time is a blessing and a half and he's not giving it up unless he works his way up to something real good. Which will take time, and energy, and so, so much luck.

But right now he's got a favourite lunch and does his share of the chores (cleaning Damien's weird house only seems daunting, it just takes a lot of furniture polish and a big-ass feather duster). He sees his Pop as often as he can with him jetting all over the continent, texting when they're in different time zones and laughing about stupid coworker stories (his Pop's are more maddening, apparently higher salaries don't strain out the truly incompetent, somehow that's comforting, too).

He can pay for Coffee Spoon bagels now, coming to Carmensita's aid during lulls in her shifts. Both their schedules are pretty regular, so they exchange barely a message or two before coming to see each other at certain points in the week. With what pocket money they do have, they get concert tickets once or twice, go ice skating, and buy fries at the mall, wandering around the stores after dark and trying to pick out new versions of themselves. Mostly they just go home with small things they don't need and pricey chocolate bars they split. When she gets wicked cramps, he hits her up with aspirin and movies they've seen ten times. When he can't get out of bed, she sends him memes and cute dog videos.

Dad and Damien are gross as per usual, but they're also way less nosy than they used to be. It's weird to just take off for the day or night without any further questions. Though coming back is a different story.

“I got your text,” Hugo leans out of the study (yes, they have one, of course they do) when he hears Ernest's sock feet shuffling up the hallway. “What happened?”

“I don't know,” Ernest shrugs, unbuttoning his uniform shirt. “A sewer main burst while they were working on the parking lot. The fire department scooted everyone out of there pretty quick, it smelled awful. I had better get paid for the full shift.”

“You have a right to, you weren't the one driving the backhoe.” His dad grins, re-shelving a book before shutting the door. “On the bright side, unexpected free time is always a bonus.”

“It sure is, and I'm gonna use it to take a well-deserved nap.”

“Oh.” A beat while he fixes his expression. “Okay, I'll record that documentary for you.”

Ernest turns, hand on the ornate doorframe. “Is that on today?” Hugo's eager nod goes right between his ribs and he smiles. “Nah, I'll watch it with you. Naps mess up my sleep schedule anyway, make me all cranky in the morning.”

“As opposed to any other morning?”

“Rude,” he snorts while his dad chuckles. “I'll be down in a minute, okay? Just gotta get changed and stuff.”

“Okay.” Not five minutes into changing and checking his email, he gets a text.

HV: You want to order in for dinner? Two-for-one at the pizza place

HV: We can get those chicken bite things, I have a coupon :)

Ernest laughs, oddly reminded of coming home to Duchess after high school sleepovers. He sends a quick 'sure dad,' and takes some of his recycling down. They spend the evening in their boxers on the couch in the den, three of the four hairless cats Damien had adopted when they came through the shelter (he didn't last long post-Duchess once he had a taste of pet ownership) snuggled up beside and on top of them. It's not their first or last night spent this way.

He does quietly scream to the heavens at the mere suggestion of a girlfriend. “I'm a cashier- oh, sorry, 'customer service associate.' All I've got to offer someone right now is pocket lint and my winning personality.”

“But that is precisely what you should be offering in a relationship!” Damien insists, winding black tinsel up the staircase while Ernest does the same on the other side. “If wealth was a prerequisite, only the rich would fall in love.”

“I don't need to be rich, but I do need a little something to put in my dating profile, you know?” He's already down a few pegs courtesy of his 'no sex for me please' sexuality, but he won't bring that up now. Tis the season, and all that.

“You have much to include! You are in possession of many fine qualities,” Damien smiles at him, looking less vampire and more nerd with his hair up in a bun and his glasses on. His outfit is like Dickens and Mary Shelley had a weird baby, though. “Your father and I just think it would be nice if you had someone special in your life, that's all. We're not pressuring you to bring someone home for the holidays.”

“Well, that's appreciated,” Ernest ties off the tinsel, zipping up his hoodie again. What did thermostats ever do to fathers, anyway? “I'm just kind focusing on me right now. I'll get in a relationship when I'm in a better spot.”

“Ah, that is fair,” Damien grabs another handful of tinsel for the top banisters. “But love can happen upon you when you least expect it. Such was the case for me both times.”

Ernest had never decided if Damien getting sappy about his dead husband or his very-alive husband who is also Ernest's dad was worse, they might tie for first place.

EHV: Plz never let me become this gross n sentimental when I'm old plz

LB: You cry at Hamilton now and you've seen it so many fing times

EHV: ELIZA DESERVED BETTER GDI DON'T START W ME

CS: I WILL CRY AT ITS QUIET UPTOWN UNTIL THE DAY I DIE FIGHT ME SCRUB

EHV: YEAH THAT'S RIGHT

LB: Oh ffs I forgot this was the groupchat

Speaking of awkward sad times, this year's holidays are busy and bright and not as rushed as last year where he could barely visit anyone for more than a couple hours, but the same anniversary comes around. He's celebrating a third Christmas up at Damien's parents place over New Year's weekend, laughing it up while everyone is maybe too drunk, but he has a sixth sense when that text buzzes in.

CS: I wish missing someone didn't hurt so much :(

EHV: I know <3

CS: Dad's sad, but he's got Julian now

CS: I'm just by myself up in my old room, they're asleep already

EHV: Aw, shit. Do you want me to call you?

CS: No, you're with family. I'm fine

EHV: Everyone is tipsy and Dad is losing at trivial pursuit

CS: Okay then yes please <3

He makes his first appearance at open mic night in the cold and crisp new year. One technical glitch makes him nearly piss himself but it otherwise goes okay. Carmensita sings right after him, her dad on guitar and it's so frickin' good.

“God, you guys are so cool,” he says afterwards, spinning a bottle of Windex around his finger and taking Wild West-style aim at the glass in front of the baked goods.

“Glad I've still got it,” Mat grins, going back to counting the money. “You should do more of these, everyone was super into it. There's another place that does really good open mics out in the boonies, it's a cafe-arthouse thing.”

“You think so?” Ernest had immediately repressed all memory of his performance upon leaving the stage, it was a good coping technique.

“We should start a YouWatch channel!” Carmensita exclaims, as if for the first time, though she's been bugging him for weeks. “We'll do covers to get the subs, then post our own stuff! I bet we could get sponsors!”

“Mister Sella,” Ernest says very seriously. “Are you aware that your daughter is selling out to the man?”

'Sita hits him with a broom, but he does decide to take the leap. Not like starting a channel takes a lot of upfront capital investment, exactly. They do pool money for one good mic, and figure they'll work their way up if it turns out to be worth it. They pick songs from their early teens to indulge their own and others' guilty pleasure fix, and they do weird remixes of things that aren't songs, and he convinces Carmensita to do tag videos. It's fun, and some people like it. Not a ton, but hey, maybe someday.

They only complain on days they're not recording, not wanting to wreck their voices. This time they're slumped on Ernest's bed, him whinging continuously after his first attempt at online dating ended in utter failure, therefore he should give up and never try again, right? Less money on dating, more money to eventually adopt dogs?

“Ernest, I want you to try something.” Carmensita reaches over and covers his eyes, her voice only a little exasperated. “Envision what you want in a relationship. Dad taught me this, I used it to figure out where I wanted to go for college.”

“Okay. Does it work, or is it some hokey bullshit?”

“Quit being rude and humour me, dammit.”

“Alright, alright,” he laughs, feeling her well-manicured thumb jab his cheek. He wets his lips while he thinks for a moment. “Uh, I wanna be with someone who's funny and nice, fun to be around.”

“Okay, can we get a little more depth than that?”

“Give me a second here, woman,” he snorts. “I want- someone who's chill, who likes some of the stuff I like- not everything, but we gotta have stuff to do together, you know?” Carmensita hums. “I want- I really want someone I can build a future with. I don't wanna just play around, y'know? I want someone responsible- heh, maybe not too responsible. But someone I can trust, someone I can see myself having kids with.”

“Woah, you want kids-plural now?”

“Well not a whole bunch, but two would be nice. They can play with each other- anyway,” Ernest gulps, strangely caught up in the thought process. “I want someone who when I look at her- I just want all the good stuff in the world for her. She's going places and she's talented- I want someone who I really get, who gets me back. When people talk about marrying their best friend, that's- that's what I want. Someone who- accepts me, and we can be ourselves around each other, always.”

They're quiet a moment, Carmensita's hand still on his face. She takes it away slowly and smiles softly. “So, you want what you have with me, but with kissing?”

Ernest blanks for a solid thirty seconds before raising his finger. “Okay, first of all, when did you get so smooth?”

Carmensita laughs, loud and cute, sweeping some loose curls off her forehead and looking at him with these eyes- he's never seen her look at him like that until now. Or maybe he was just that clueless. “Is that really all you want to ask me?”

Ernest swallows, loud enough to hear it, sitting up a little straighter. “Can I- kiss you?”

“I don't know, can you?”

He groans outright, dropping his head on her shoulder while she giggles. “One of these days, 'Sita, one of these days.”

She smells really nice this close, maybe it's her shampoo? It's damn good, whatever it is. Her hands end up on his shoulders, not pressing, just holding him. He lifts his head and god, that little moment of eye contact before they both lean forward-

First kisses are not usually perfect, but he's willing to call this one close enough. She's warm and soft beneath his lips. His arms slip around her waist and it's like she was made to fit against him. He outright sighs when they part, kissing her nose just to hear her laugh again.

“Are you-” He can't quite find his words right now, his mind cycling through all the new and so very nice stimuli his senses are taking in. Carmensita's always been beautiful to him but he never thought, never let himself- “Do you- are you sure you wanna do this? I can't- I really like you, but I don't think I'll ever be able to do the physical stuff. You deserve-”

She presses a finger to his lips and he silences himself immediately, distracted by the light of her eyes. “There's nothing I want that online shopping with discreet shipping can't provide. None of that 'you deserve better' crap. I want you, if you want me back, then we should keep kissing and see where it takes us.”

Ernest works his jaw for a few moments, then nods. “Yeah, I can get behind that train of thought.”

Carmensita's laugh as he pulls her in for more smooches is the sweetest sound he's ever heard.

They end up cuddling up and falling asleep together- hahaha an asexual sleeping with someone on the first date, hahaha, puns and stuff -a bonus of neither of them having morning shifts the next day and Carmensita not having anyone expecting her back at home. He wakes up before she does, spooned up behind her, all their clothes rumpled, the blankets cocooned around them. He kisses the nape of her neck and sighs. He feels content, for the first time in a while.

The softest of knocks precedes the door creaking open. “Hey, Ernest, do you want- /oh/.”

The door shuts quickly, rousing Carmensita and making Ernest groan. “So much for keeping quiet about it.”

“Were we going to?” She yawns, sitting up and stretching. “Also, I'm bringing my silk pillowcases or we're only sleeping at my place. How do you live like this?”

“I dunno, I'm a mess.” He laughs and sits up, a tentative hand on her back. “I just- I'm scared. We've been friends for so long, I don't want to risk it going badly.”

“But if we don't risk it going badly, we also don't risk it going well.” She clumsily boops his nose, smiling dopily at him. “Guess which outcome I have my money on?”

“Girl, what money?” He laughs when she jabs him in the stomach. He leans in for a kiss after a moment, realizing that they can do that now, and smooches her cheek gladly. “So, if the Dads know, that means we're officially an 'us.'”

“We are.” She grins and kisses his cheek back. “I like being an us, it's pretty great so far.”

“It is.” He grins back, feeling like he can't stop. Shit, it's really happening. Is he in love? Is that an okay word to use after literally one very unexpected day? Probably not out loud.

He walks her downstairs, and they whisper-laugh a few walk-of-shame jokes before she heads out in her poofy pink coat, leaving him alone with the giddy feeling in his gut. In the dining room, Dad and Damien are doing maybe the worst acting job he's ever seen. “Are you two gonna make a big deal out of this?”

“Make a big deal out of what?” Damien inquires with convincing innocence, frying pan and spatula in hand.

“Yes, is there something we should make a big deal out of?” Hugo smiles, legitimately doing the newspaper crossword like he's a goddamn cartoon character.

Ernest sighs and drops into his chair, accepting several pancakes from Damien. “We literally just started- dating, I guess. No wedding bells, no grandbabies, nothing crazy yet, so please relax.”

“You know we're not like that.”

“Certainly, I'm not my mother.” Damien chuckles, almost unconsciously rubbing Hugo's robe-covered arm while they eat. So gross, but also goals.

“But, out of curiosity,” Hugo teasingly elbows him. “Did you kiss her yet?”

The dads laugh while Ernest howls. He'd text his Pop for backup, but he will get the exact same shit in different wording. He pulls out his phone and texts Lucien instead.

EHV: Hey Carmensita and I are dating just FYI

LB: About gd time, you've been heart eyes at her for literal years

CS: What

CS: Lucien why would you not tell me this

CS: I COULD HAVE SAVED SO MUCH TIME >:(

EHV: Oh shit group chat again

LB: Let's rename these things plz

EHV: Sorry babe <3

CS: Np hon ;*

LB: And here I am, third wheeling it again

EHV: You are basically married stfu

LB: That does not make this better

CS: Ladies ladies, you're both pretty

EHV: Sita knows whats uppppp

LB: Finishing BNHA this weekend y/n?

CS: Y, obvs

EHV: Also Y, I'm off at 7 don't watch ahead

LB: Don't walk so slow and we won't

EHV: Eat a dick

CS: G2g, love you guys

EHV: Love ya too

LB: <3

LB: Also, straaaaaaaaaaight

EHV: Fuckin really dude

LB: Someone has to

LB: Tell Dad I'm coming for dinner tonight

EHV: Will do, bye weeb

LB: Cya loser

#sinunamor #dream daddy #dream daddy hc #ddadds #ernest hemingway vega #carmensita sella #ernestsita

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wideworldofwhump · 6 years ago

Text

What are your favorite whumpy fic paragraph(s) - either from what you’ve written or what you’ve read? Feel heartily invited to send me an ask!

Here are several of mine:

Psych:

Where There is Wailing and Gnashing of Teeth by dragonnan Warnings: cannibalism, extreme violence, blood and gore

His eyes stayed on the other man while he created another inch of space between them. Every shuffle away made his throat tighten even more. He wanted to run but all he could manage was another step. And then another. The stairs were only a few feet away now. Shawn's heel rolled over something on the floor and he nearly stumbled – his manacles clinking as he lost traction for several seconds. Falling against the wall, he looked first towards his captor. The giant had stepped deeper into the shadows and was now kneeling – still seeming to be oblivious to the stealthy escape. With impending doom avoided again, Shawn glanced down at what had tripped him up. It was long and rounded with a large knob on one end. A bone. There was no need for a degree in forensics to identify it as human.

He pulled his lips down and swallowed before stepping over the bleached white length. Now, instead of watching Tiny, he kept his eyes fixed on his path. There were more bones scattered nearby. Most appeared to be leg bones, though some shorter ones suggested they'd come from arms. Then he spotted what was clearly a skeletonized foot still strung with tendons. He had to swallow several more times as he moved past the remains.

Shawn jerked at the sudden clatter behind him – pivoting his head and squinting while he simultaneously began to pick up his speed. Tiny still wasn't looking his way but he'd stood once more. Something long hung from his right hand. It looked like a... cleaver.

His heels bumped the bottom stair and he fell backward against the concrete before he managed to spin around and scramble upwards – using hands and feet to tear his way to the top – no longer trying to be silent. His manacles continued to interfere as he slipped on the smoothed edges, rapping knees and shins and only keeping himself from a brutal fall out of desperation. His gasps had a voice as he reached the door and slammed into it – the terrified sobs for breath shaking out in a thin scream as he wrenched at the knob... and found it locked.

Sherlock:

The Tiger and the Shark by dragonnan

Warnings: rape, noncon, violence

“Isn't that an irony, then? Having spent so much time on one side of the microscope to suddenly find you've become the smudge on the slide. I wonder what they'll find under magnification?”

Sherlock clenched his jaw – rounding on his brother only to find that Mycroft, too, had vanished.

The knock that followed jolted a lurch through his middle – though he gave no outward sign of startle. “Come in.” Soft spoken and presenting a far more relaxed state than he'd last exhibited with company – he held close to the wall and faced the door – eyeing the space left open alongside the DI – noting John a bit further back and offering a truly miserable act of nonchalance. The eyes that darted – the fists held tight to his sides – the pacing walk all spoke of a man on the edge of blind fury. A comfort or threat, Sherlock hadn't the time to analyze – though he was aware of the empty swell within when the door began to shut him away.

“Don't-!” His hand shook – outstretched towards the polished wood and glass. He blinked at his shaking fingers – trying to recall when he'd lifted his arm. Lestrade, in rare comprehension, left the door open several inches. No surprise when John edged to within a hand's-breadth – meeting the flitting gaze of his friend. Sherlock nodded, once. Without pause, John slipped into the room – only approaching until Sherlock went stiff. Wordless, he sat in one of the chairs instead – never once speaking.

Rather, he allowed Lestrade to launch into a droning monologue – detailing the pursuit of his captors – their vanishing from the grid expected and of non-information. Clearly they'd prepared for a departure that would avoid interference from Scotland Yard. The monotone sharing became background. If questions were asked, they were unheeded. Sherlock studied the tremor in his fingers and only, truly, returned to the room when the only remaining occupants were himself and John.

His friend sat across from him – bundled hands showing white at the knuckle.

“What do you need, Sherlock?” Sincere – soft – attentive. Well wasn't that just like John Watson – a dichotomy from the man who could likewise be furious, hard, and stubborn. And, in many ways, Sherlock needed all of those sides. He wouldn't settle for less.

His reply, just as soft, carried a thread of something he was not yet ready to face – though the reflected pain in John's eyes showed his attempts at redaction were unsuccessful.

“Take me home...”

Iron Man:

Not the Hero Type by dragonnan

If monsters chased him in the dark he could at least see where to place his feet to run away.

Maybe that was why he hadn't been paying attention. Or, maybe he'd been looking for this. He didn't know. He rarely cataloged his reasons for anything. He fired from the hip and most of the time it struck dead center. But when he missed, oh it was a spectacular miss.

And here he was. Unlikely candidate for a crime that went well beyond the trappings of mundane. Pathetic, perhaps. Laughable, certainly. Painful? Yes. Definitely. If his charm hadn't been enough to boot him from the Super Friends this little encounter would more than suffice for a dishonorable discharge. Worse, even, than that, he'd used up most of his bitching allotment to instant replay the previous evening. Maybe now wasn't the best time to compare and contrast the military's finest man of the American cloth with the washed up husk of occasional alcoholic part time ghost in the machine currently bleeding standard issue B positive on the concrete.

Half his age and twice his height, Stuart Little and Tiny Tim were pawing the trinkets they'd collected from his person after that yellow flag moment minutes ago. They'd gone all out on their little urban Robin Hood cliché too. Their mothers and/or parole officers would be so proud. In addition to the tire iron they'd also managed a suitably dark and litter infested alley. All that was missing were the ra... oh, never-mind. One of the cat sized squeakers was just crawling from the dumpster about six feet downstream.

“Where's the cash?”

Tony lolled his leaking skull left-wise; bringing himself up to speed that one of the fine young gentlemen had wandered back to his side of the alley sometime in the last few... hours? Yeah, that was a concussion.

“That's the-green stuff, right?” Slurring. Kinda took the edge off his response but hopefully the all teeth grin helped it along.

Yup, sure did. Helped it right into a fist planted somewhere to the right of his appendix.

“Umph! Mmm... stellar delivery.” He coughed, noting the flavor of freshly diced liver on his palette. “No, really,” he wheezed, pushing slightly more vertical against his wall. “Watch a lot of Lamont Peterson?” He cocked his head. “Nah, you strike me as more of a Butterbean fan...”

Strike – got it in one as the second wallop emptied lungs and sarcasm but had the satisfaction of a yelp and gouged knuckles as his assailant stumbled backward, staring. Not just a glorified pacemaker and dream chaser, it also slices and dices. Though smoothed and polished for that nonabrasive comfort and style, the casing of his arc reactor was still metal. Very hard and very undentable by human knuckles no matter how large they were. Maybe still lacking in verbal comebacks, Tony still managed a wincing wink through his scrambled gasps.

Doctor Strange:

The High Cost of Dying by dragonnan

“Shit! I told you to watch the door, asshole!”

And look at that, he'd been spotted. So much for trying not to raise a fuss. “Uh... hi.” Jaunty tip of the hand – going for that 'oops, I've just stumbled upon a crime scene; don't mind me, I'm just here for a package of Ding-Dongs' vibe.

Shotgun, who'd been rocking foot to foot, jerked a look over his shoulder before hefting his weapon a bit higher – a bit more threateningly – towards the frozen clerk. “Come one, come on, hurry the fuck up!!”

Handgun, darting attention back and forth between the cash register and the newcomer, jerked his chin and wildly panned his gun up and down.

“Nice tie jewelry. Hand it over! Along with any cash you got and that watch! Now!”

Stephen didn't move. “Yeah... sorry. See, I spent most of my cash on a hot dog and the little I have left is going towards either an orange Fanta or a Raspberry Nestea. I haven't completely decided yet but I'd sorta been counting on some time to browse.”

“I don't give a fuck! Empty your pockets or I put a hole through your fucking head!”

Stephen pursed his lips – mulling that over. The clerk had begun to move, now, jerky pecking at the register keys – stalling, possibly – terrified, definitely. Shotgun hunched his shoulders and checked the door again – gun drifting towards the cold case before re-centering as he focused back on target.

Meanwhile, Handgun took three wide steps forward – finger jabbing at the attractive shiny.

“I said give me that fucking gem, Pops!”

“Or you'll blow a hole in my head – sorry, fucking head – as I believe you'd articulated.” Still no move to follow through with those orders, however, and Handgun seemed to be realizing his threat wasn't as imposing as he'd likely hoped it would be. Shotgun, meanwhile, was snatching the meager afternoon take from the open cash drawer – weapon now aimed at a 90 degree angle towards the flickering fluorescent panels above.

Stephen flexed his fingers, palms outward. “Hey, you kids want to see a magic trick?”

Sweeping his arms in an arc, he conjured double shields; taking the moment of stunned shock to knock Handgun's weapon away with the edge of one burning ring – a follow-up swing taking Shotgun out of the fight with a blow to the back of the head – then spinning back towards Handgun-

Explosive force slammed Stephen down to his knees – golden shields fracturing into sparks. Unarmed, Handgun – mind skittering to the irony of that observation – spun and bolted – door jangling at his hard exit. On the floor, at his back, Shotgun groaned but otherwise didn't move.

A freezing drizzle of sweat made a long streak along Stephen's jaw. He couldn't, quite, seem to catch his breath. He was hunched on his hands and knees but couldn't comprehend the action of standing.

He felt a ripple travel from shoulders to waist – the cloth encasing his torso constricting – shivering mild panic through his chest and he fought not to tear the not-a-cardigan from his body – god, he couldn't breathe! Trying to push himself up, he trembled at the stiff ache throbbing through his midsection. His brain analyzed the symptoms even as he struggled to understand why... he was going into shock. His arms folded beneath him; dropping him to his side and he felt the first real bloom of heat in his back. He couldn't reach it with his hands but he could feel another sensation – wet – and understood, suddenly, what had happened... just not

“How... h-ho-how... what...?”

A shaking, terrified voice responded. “I'm sorry – God I'm so sorry! I'm so sorry! I didn-I didn-I didn't m-mean – please, oh my God, don't die – please don't die – oh my God!”

How to Train Your Dragon:

Asgårdsreia by dragonnan

Leaning forward a little, Hiccup dropped Toothless back towards the waves so that the approaching ship's sails could block out most of the brightness.

With a violent jerk, Hiccup hauled Toothless into a tight arc – breaking away from the ships – heart hammering as a flurry of arrows skimmed so close he could feel the tickle of feathered fletching against his cheek.

“Dragon hunters!” Gods, and he'd nearly flown right into them! Not only that; with the sun at their backs, they'd have seen him well before he'd have been able to recognize them. Stupid!

Toothless weaved and rolled as bolos shot towards them – roaring as one wrapped itself around a back leg. “Come on, buddy, we have to get out of here, now!”

Though the bolo wasn't heavy, the swinging weights hanging below them hampered their flight – Toothless shaking his leg to try to free himself as they grasped towards the clouds. More arrows shot towards them as well as several nets and Hiccup leaned hard to the right – forcing Toothless into a barrel rolling plunge to avoid the attacks.

Hiccup grunted as an arrow shot between his left side and inner arm – slicing a groove just above the gauntlet and nearly striking Toothless in the head. The sting of pain shifted into the background as they rocked hard to the right – then left again – swooping through the spaces between projectiles.

A yell shattered over his teeth as something solid smashed against his left leg.

Toothless immediately began to plunge as all control was lost – their flight a nauseating blur of black and red. Hiccup swallowed and sobbed air – his leg refusing to work the pedal. He unlatched the straps keeping him in the saddle – digging his right hand into pommel as his body lifted up from his seat. Left leg slipping loose from the pedal, fighting the forces pushing him back, he strained towards the dented mechanism.

Only a few meters from the waves, he caught hold of it with two fingers, and pulled!

There was a sharp, belly dropping, whoosh of regaining lost height. Hiccup's body slammed back to the saddle – his upper half in a precarious tilt half off the side where he white knuckled the damaged pedal.

“Go, bud!”

Toothless dodged a few more arrows and flattened out – wings extending as he rapidly picked up speed.

Cowboy Bebop:

Play Me Some More of that Old Blues by dragonnan

Tipping his head back, he stared up into the cobalt sky. There were no more answers above than below. If there was a God up there, he apparently found amusement in continuing this tragic comedy. His hands had stopped shaking, and he looked down at his palms. A small patch of skin on the outside edge of both trigger fingers was roughened; the result of firing handguns too many times. He wondered where his weapons were now.

A shadow covered him, and he glanced up. An old woman stood over him, holding out a single woolong note. “Go ahead, you look like you could use it.” He grimaced, then smiled abashedly, taking the bill. He started to thank her, but felt his throat tighten, cutting off speech. It made no difference; she'd already vanished into the crowd.

Sighing, he gathered his feet under himself. The trip up was a lot harder than the trip down had been. He had to lean against the building for several moments, sweating heavily and panting, while he waited for strength to return to him. Eventually, he pushed away from his support, forcing his wasted limbs to carry him onward.

Twenty minutes of struggle found him gasping under the shade of an awning. His thoughts had managed to solidify during his wavering walk, and the sequence of his former life played before him like a scratchy film. There was no sound, for he refused to hear it just now. Instead he saw only the grainy images of people he'd once known, and in a state of drunkenness, would have referred to as friends.

His eyes darkened as their faces were replaced by a flash of liquid light, reflections off a length of steel. The eyes that had always seemed cold, even when they were comrades, now glowed with the red anger of insanity. The voice burst in his head before he could stop it.

“Why don't you just DIE!”

He grasped his head, as if doing so could repress the memory. He'd known it was over then. Hell, he'd known it was over that day, that day he'd first seen her. Maybe there'd still been something of optimism in him; yeah, even that late in the game. Three strikes and you're out, right? Strike one; he meets the woman of his dreams. Strike two; the woman of his dreams happens to be the girlfriend of his best buddy. Strike three; his best buddy finds out. A bad situation for anyone, but a lot worse if the people involved happen to belong to a high profile syndicate. Even so, he'd thought, he'd hoped…

“I'm leaving… I want you to come with me…”

Blood and ashes, all that remained of that dream. His eyes tracked the movements on the street. So far, no one had even noticed him. Well, that hadn't changed from before. He'd had a habit of going unnoticed until he wanted to be seen.

A burning pain in his gut reminded him that the last meal he could remember eating had probably been a plate of sautéed bell peppers. How many lifetimes had passed since then?

He felt in his pocket for the money card, and found the woolong bill instead. Well, shouldn't let that go to waste!

Forty-five minutes later, he leaned on one arm against the side of a wall and retched violently. No solid foods, he'd forgotten that, and his intestines now felt like they were crawling into the back of his throat. But, God, those carnitas had tasted so good! His stomach jumped again and he heaved, nearly collapsing with the sudden wave of exhaustion. Pushing away from the wall, he tripped over a crumpled box and nearly lost his footing. He opened his mouth to curse, but the words were high-pitched and reedy. He clenched his teeth instead.

With his stomach voided he felt weak, and saw that his hands were trembling again. It had been over an hour since he left the… what had that place been anyhow? Shaking his head, and regretting the motion, he sat down on the box that had nearly tripped him up a few moments ago. An unfamiliar sensation was washing through him while he sat on his box. Always, always before he'd had a goal. Granted, that goal had cost him dearly, but it had been something. Since he'd left the syndicate, all he'd wanted was to recapture that moment of perfection he'd found with her. He never wanted to face down his enemies, had never wanted to meet for that final bloody showdown. Yet, it seemed… he shook his head. He never believed in destiny, fate, or any of that `profound' crap. What happened, happened. And now, it seemed, his survival had happened… again.

Supernatural:

The Big Stink by dragonnan

He wasn't sleeping. Typically, he logged a good four hours, which was better than average compared to most of the guys in his trade. But that had been before. And before. And a lot before.

Alcohol; handy shut off valve, it usually gave his bed times a soupy sorta blank. If he had nightmares, they were the old and familiar. But lately... lately it seemed his chosen sleep aid was closer to sugar water. Any spirits the bottle contained seemed to flow right out of the glass and into his brain; all sorts of herpy-derpy haunting going on. Enough times waking up in damp linens with Sam giving him that tetchy constipated Gomer look.

He smacked his lips and flinched at the rotting elk flavor. Dear God, it was actually worse!

“Holy fucking shit.” He moaned before ripping free of the bed and high stepping across Sam's mattress, and Sam, on his way to the bathroom. Forget the brush, he snatched the Crest and creamed his mouth with a third of the tube.

While he was busy moving the thick paste around his teeth, Sam shuffled through the door and made for the toilet.

“Told you to lay off the bourbon last night.”

“Ish nah the ruh-run!” Dean spit the first mouthful as Sam flushed; grimacing at the tube in disgust.

“Dude, what the hell sorta shitpaste is this anyhow?”

Sam snatched the tube away and fished out his toothbrush. “Still got that funny taste?”

“What do you think?” Opening his mouth wide, Dean leaned in close to the mirror; hanging his tongue out while he tried to see the back of his throat.

Sam watched from the corner of his eye as he brushed – raising his eyebrows as Dean pulled his lips up from his teeth. While Sam rinsed and spit, Dean left the bathroom in search of something more astringent than mint.

The aforementioned bourbon bottle was crowded for space on the little table between their beds. Barely an inch left at the bottom, Dean polished it off and then nearly gagged at the corrosive taste explosion. “Oh, hell, no you did not...”

“I didn't what?” Sam wandered from the bathroom towards the half fridge. Nothing in there but yesterday's pizza, so pizza for breakfast it was.

“What did you put in here? This tastes like week old skunk piss!”

“You probably have a cold, Dean. Messes with your tastebuds sometimes. Look, we'll pick up some Sudafed this afternoon and you'll be fine.”

A little too relaxed about the whole thing, if Dean hadn't been there to see it happen he'd swear his brother's soul hadn't made it back into his body. Touchy subject, that one. Not that Dean made a habit of dodging touchy subjects unless it was his touchy subjects. God that sounded dirty.

“Breakfast?”

He turned his head; tasting the fog of foul that turned right along with him. Sam was holding out a slice of cold Meat Lover's with extra bacon. Dean's throat bobbed in warning and he cut to the right without a word.

A second later, the delicate sound of gagging drifted from the open bathroom.

1 note · View note

mistralrunner · 8 years ago

Text

Running Reads Oathbringer: Part II.II

Spoilers for pages 371-409 ahead!

“As white as a sun at night” Idioms referencing Shadesmar?

Evi is channeling Eliza right now

Look at where you are...would that be enough?

He will never be satisfied

I like Evi although I'm still suspicious that there's something more about her given Vasher's comments about Renarin's parent

"Like a blackness from the old stories. You live only by taking lives from others."

It's interesting what is being set up here, the darkness in humans being the likely greater enemy in a world where people want to believe the humans against evil narrative

At least Dalinar recognizes she deserves better and tries

How much of people overlooking Evi as not that smart was just because of her beliefs in the One

Ugh Gavilar bad husband Navani deserves better

Huh Evi brings up the Nightwatcher first...as a way to connect to the One? I guess that is a form of transforming oneself.

Ahhh Dalinar you did spare the kid aaaa

Also boo Gavilar boo for wanting a kid dead

And hmm Aona and Skai violated a pact? What pact?

Yes Lunamor pov with his full name to start

I'm glad we didn't leave the Shattered Plains entirely. Like Rock I've grown oddly fond of them.

Are there women training

Yes five scout ladies yes

I'm glad there's more than one too that really does help

Teft what are you doing you're supposed to be the reliable one

I like Rock’s respect to all spren

Ooh we finally see what he sees-a little into Shadesmar?

Ah Kaladin helping Hobber feels

I love the outside perceptions of Kaladin from Bridge Four

I love Kaladin and I love Bridge Four

It's really sad that even with magic powers Kaladin still might not be able to protect Bridge Four

Oh that makes sense as a way Rock moved from fourth to third brother why didn't I think of that

Aww Kaladin being there if Rock wants to talk about lost brothers

Heh Elhokar still wants a life changing road trip with Kaladin

Yes the Bridge Four Bridge was recovered

Where is Rlain? Is he training here

Aww he'd always been a cook

Not surprised the newcomers haven't managed to use Stormlight. They need more team bonding and Connection to have a chance.

Aww Renarin

Even Rock can't see Renarin's spren?

Renarin is Bridge Four. Bridge Four is greater than even the Windrunners.

Yes thank you for letting Renarin talk about his feelings

Yay Rlain's here but aww he's left out

I do feel strange about the Parshmen storyline essentially being dropped for the moment due to pov switch cause it is important

I love these interactions. I love Bridge Four

Ooo spren approach and watch

Please tell me they are good ones

Yay Syl!

Phew good ones I'm getting too nervous lately

Hehe they don't want to admit they were wrong to Syl

Spren drawing Stormlight huh

We kind of knew it could happen since Pattern was infused but this does make things more interesting

Especially after what Kaladin did with the Windspren

Okay the fact that Lopen can do the full Bridge Four salute makes me feel a little less weird about him regrowing his arm but still weird

Aww Lunamor's family

We need to introduce Bridge Four to snow forts

Something is wrong at the peaks? Concerning but not surprising given they're almost certainly Perpendicularities

Aww Rock was broken. They all were, it shouldn’t be surprising really, but still..

Oh Rock is technically first son now

Didn't think about that

The idea of Bridge runs being over makes me sad

They should fly with the bridge

Arrogant aren't you Shard? Given how Aona, Skai, Ati, Leras, and Tanavast ended up, I feel like Hoid made the right choice.

Are gemstones used in the visions used in real life?

Did we see this vision before? Why are these people fighting?

Pfft Dalinar frustrated the fragment of god into cursing

Dalinar: It's just a flesh wound! I've had worse!

So some humans did fight alongside the Voidbringers in the past

The Radiant’s a Stoneward?

Yep I was right.

So that's what Tension sort of does. That is pretty cool.

Yes Navani and Jasnah time thank you for mother daughter scholarship trip although a reunion scene between the two would have been nice

Regrowth devices? I wonder if that's what healed Szeth

Ladies on a scholarship trip I'm loving this

Navani acting like it's Middlefest cause ancient fabrials, Jasnah analyzing technology and timelines excellent

Aww Jasnah smiling

Yeah the recorded visions actually have done a lot of good. Like inspiring ladies to become lady knights. And scholarship too.

Ah Jasnah giving Dalinar advice on heresy XP

Thank you for Jasnah being a well written atheist who respects others’ right to believe

"I don't need company to be confident."

I love Jasnah so much "/You/ decide how you are defined. Don't surrender that to them."

"No, none would think Jasnah emotionless if they'd witness that tearful reunion between mother and daughter." I’m glad for the confirmation that it was tearful and heartfelt, but if only we could have actually witnessed it Sanderson.

Rock that's burned, rock that's crushed, rock with holes, rock that's rippled, match the rock effect with the magic that caused it!

I do wonder where this battle took place

I do hope our final encounter isn't as sad as the Aharietiam although I also wouldn't expect it to be the polished and glorious heroics of songs at least not entirely

Oh hey the preface scene with the Honorblades. Or rather after it.

What are the Tranquiline Halls. And Damnation for that matter

You know you were in bad situation if even the Stormfather has somewhat accepted you breaking oaths. Poor Heralds.

Ooh yes please Stormfather please give exposition

Huh beings Invested enough that they could refuse to pass on so Cognitive Shadows or something else?

Parshmen have spren? Are spren? What?

Are all the spren of Odium born of Parshmen? Who is more in control in the Fused? Why can they command Surges as well?

Expositionnnn

Odium is sealed by Honor and Cultivation. Even still with Honor broken?

Oh that's what the Oathpact was. Sealing the spren of the dead into Damnation, wherever that was.

Oh that is messed up. An oath sealed by people who can break it, and Desolations begin when one person gives into the eternal torture and then they're hailed as Heralds and heroes when they're the ones who let the apocalypse come.

Taln took the torture of ten for far longer than they ever bore it before probably

Far far longer apparently yikes

I didn't realize the span between Desolations got that short. I always saw them as hundreds of years apart but a shorter and shorter span really explains why society fell apart that much.

What determines a Desolation's end though? All the Fused spren going back to Damnation? How do you keep track?

Poor Heralds

Huh I wonder how much being bonded plays into the Stormfather's increased understanding and forgiveness of the Heralds

I'm kind of curious about the layout of Damnation if the Heralds could hide and fight there

I have more feels about Taln than before. "The one who was not a king, scholar, or general" but who never gave in...and paid dearly for it. Four and a half millennia....

People are messy, broken heroes and traitors both

Heh took you long enough Dalinar to realize that guy was Taln and oh you lost track of him oh dear

That's bad

Really bad

Oathpact gone and Fused just regenerate in Everstorm

Oh that's bad

Not just the regenerating enemy

But the fact that it means that killing Fused will lead to un-Fused Parshmen getting possessed and losing themselves, thus restoring Fused

So some people might be prompted to decide to genocide the race they once enslaved to prevent Desolations...

Not good not good

What did happen to Taln’s Honorblade

Sorry Dalinar, you're not going to find Taln so easily

Unfortunately Stormfather by rule of narrative they're going to find out why the Radiants abandoned their oaths. I wonder if it has to do with what happens to a Radiant's soul after they die.

Let's hope there's enough character growth and healing that these broken people can withstand the truth when it eventually comes

I would be interested in locating the Heralds

I wonder if any Shardbearers we've seen are actually Heralds

It'd be hilarious if that assassin Jasnah considered using to kill Aesudan was one

Hmm so what was Cultivation doing to stop Odium cause this narrative has mostly centered on Honor related things

Still

I KNOW THINGS

I LOVE MYTHOLOGY INFODUMPS

#running liveblogs #oathbringer spoilers #running reads oathbringer

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