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boop-le-snoot · 3 years

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masterpost ☀️ main masterlist ☀️ taglist

previously on...

This chapter is very dialogue heavy. Stephen Strange being a little bit of a dick and Tony being a sweetheart. No warnings here, just plot and worldbuilding. I think Tony is his own warning to be honest... Do we want fun facts before each chapter like before or nah?

Sorcerer Strange stared at me with the heat of a plasma beam after I finished stuttering throughout my story, one accurate eyebrow raised and sharp cheekbones painting him displeased and dangerous in the yellow light of the store lamps. The whole experience shook me more than I would have liked to admit to myself and his mute reaction wasn't helping matters at all.

"Hmph," he finally cleared his throat, taking a step back and casting a thoughtful look over the shelves in the store. "You did all you could. Perhaps, we owe you gratitude," his tone was far kinder than his face. "How long have you been doing... This?" He vaguely gestured with a gloved hand.

"Long enough," I replied without thinking. My stress levels urgently rose above acceptable and the feelings needed to be let out now; Wong's dismissive attitude and Strange's half-assed apology for the attitude was still fresh in my mind.

The sorcerer sighed, briefly touching the bridge of his nose. "I won't pretend to understand the reason for your hostility but I'd like to remind you we're on the same side here," his steely blue eyes attempted to peer into my soul.

"There are no sides here," whatever he was selling, I wasn't buying it. "There are just people who get hurt, either because of unstable maniacs with superpowers or aliens who think Earth is an all-you-can-kill buffet," I stuck my dirty, bloody hands in my pockets. "You do your part in mitigating the damage, I do mine. That's all there is."

"And you would be making my job expotentionally harder if you get in the way and slow down professionals, even if you mean well," the man's temper had, evidently, won over and he immediately got on the defensive, crossing his arms and trying to glare me down.

Odette's words rang true, starting a storm of hollow anger in the pit of my skull. "Now listen here, you privileged prick," the damn burst at the seams as I squared up to give him a piece of my mind. "You and your Hogwarts rejects and the merry band of billionaires may have the opportunity to 24/7 healthcare and near-instant compensation for any damages the villain of the week decides to bestow upon your shallow little heads," I advanced half a step towards Strange, hands bailed into tight fists, internally rejoicing at the way he leaned back. My blood sang with adrenaline as I breathed the exhilaration.

"But how many people do you overlook? How many children never make it because your super secret organisation gives their parents an ultimatum just because they are different? This is a safe space for the ones you pretend not to see until it's convenient and it will stay that way, over my fucking dead body, if need be," I stared at the tall man, almost physically feeling his brain halt and pause with the cartoony sound of screeching tires. Whatever he was expecting, it wasn't this.

A pregnant pause hung in the air, both of us waiting for the other to explode.

"Don't you think I am aware," Strange finally seethed through gritted teeth, alarming golden sparks shining in his eyes. "The Avengers are not under the rule of SHIELD and I, personally, have no affiliation with either. I do not condone their barbaric methods," the man was struggling to form his sentences properly but even despite that, I understood his ideas.

I desperately wanted to believe his words to be true, I really did, but... "Then do your fucking job and let me do mine. I do not go out there and intervene, I merely clean up the mess you all leave. Something that nobody wants to do do, so unless you've got any takers, I'll keep helping those you deem unfit," in a fit of muted rage, I flew my arm to point at the abandoned cars and destroyed concrete outside of the window, the empty street and the clouds of dust rising into the moody skies.

The entrance door flew open suddenly, with a force strong enough to bang the heavy, old handle against something outside, letting in the stuffy air inside the bodega. Strange jumped at the sound of the screaming hinges, my own heart skipping a beat from the startling interruption.

Visibly composing himself, the man pierced me with a final stare before starting a dangerously quiet, "Very well, goodbye," and hightailing it out of Odette's before disappearing in a golden circle just outside the front porch.

I let my shoulders sag for a brief moment of respite, feeling the tension bleed out of me and penetrate every nook and cranny in the room. My protection charms were mostly destroyed, silver dull, glass and amber crackled. Tossing them into the appropriate recycling bin, I set to clean up the shop, flying through the motions in record time and wandering home through the damaged streets on autopilot.

My anger had cost me more than a fortune in my past but no matter how much I sought to reason with myself, I couldn't bring it to justify Strange's attitude towards my choices. The more I thought about it, the less rational my guesses became; I forced myself to stop thinking about it when my brain had unhelpfully supplied an absurd notion of him being jealous of my lifestyle: he knew next to nothing of my skills and his opinion was based solely on seeing me work the store front and one cleansing spell I'd performed on Bucky. There was simply no rational explanation for his behaviour.

NYC life wasn't affected by the battle in the slightest, it seemed; a day and a half later, I was back at Jeremy's, serving overpriced hot beverages to the rich and the busy. I'd slept on the Bucky and Strange situation, got a handle on my feelings and decided to simply put it away. There were other, more pressing things to worry about than a couple of men.

I didn't expect the flood of anxiety that turned my hands to lead upon seeing Tony Stark's signature suit-and-sunglasses wearing ass waltz into the café. He flashed me his usual easy grin but didn't remove his glasses, eyes eerily blank behind them, as he motioned for his usual order before leaning on the countertop with the entirety of his upper body. "So, Starshine, what is it exactly that you do?" Came the question I was dreading. "Are you, like, a witch? The broomstick and cauldron kind?"

"Mr. Stark, I am serving you coffee and a muffin as we speak," I replied curtly, raising an eyebrow.

"Drop the act, honeybuns. I thought we were friends," if I squinted, I could see that he was genuinely hurt by my lack of desire to communicate. Or, perhaps, he simply was unused to not satisfying his curiosities immediately.

Either way, I stood no chance against Stark patented puppy eyes. "I clock out at two," a sigh of epic magnitude left my mouth against my will. "You can interrogate me then. Until that, it's lattes and cheesecakes only."

Tony narrowed his eyes, smile warming up by a smidgen. "Interrogate you? Never," he pocketed the napkin with Dr. Banner's scribbles the doc had forgotten last time. "I'm merely curious." Another flash of his teeth and he was gone, taking what little peace I had left along with him.

The hands on the clock made their hurried rounds over and over. My chest had grown it's own set of ticking, grinding, mismatched gears as the endless possibilities coursed a steady stream through my head. Tony Stark was a wild card, his struggles with authority a widely known fact, as frequent as his strange habits in just about anything. And while I doubted I would get ambushed and locked up, I had no qualms of him berating me for telling off his boyfriend. He seemed like the possessive, overprotective type, anyways.

As soon as I exited the café, surrounded by the smells of flour and coffee grounds, my eyes immediately landed on the shiny, brand new Audi illegally parked right in front of the establishment, it's owner leisurely leaning against the hood with a face of contented boredom as passerby pedestrians shamelessly ogled him and his ride. His face lit up as he noticed me, immediately rushing to hold the passenger side door open for my comfort. "M'lady," the dorky remark didn't fail to summon a smile to my face even if it was a weak shadow of my usual camaraderie.

"Mr. Stark," I greeted him as soon as he peeled off the crowded sidewalk.

The lack of joy on my face didn't go unnoticed by him and every now and then, he snuck a glance at my face. "Relax, Starshine, I won't bite."

"Well," I mumbled, remembering the vicious way I had torn into his boyfriend. "Good to know."

Seeing as that didn't do much for my nerves, he suddenly swerved right, rushing into a busy intersection with the ease of a practiced manic driver. "I'm feeling like a cheeseburger," he announced unceremoniously, pulling into a parking lot of some place I never noticed.

I doubted that I could swallow anything at all but relented, sitting down opposite him in the furthest booth from the entrance. I ordered the biggest milkshake they had as Tony grinned big at the waitress, finally taking off his sunglasses when she left for the kitchen.

I rested my elbows on the table under the scrutiny of his gaze. He kept quiet. I couldn't hold back my curiosity any more. "So?"

His sharp, clever brown eyes captured and held mine for the longest second in my life. I struggled not to break eye contact until he relented, focusing on the shine of my rings instead. "RoboCop almost died from the shit that happened to him," Tony's words were curt. I inhaled sharply, assuming he was talking about Barnes. The engineer's fingers began to fiddle with his glasses. "We couldn't figure out how you helped him. Not the medical, not Banner, not me and and not even Steph," he paused to run a hand through his hair. "Barnes was hit with a poisoned arrow. There were no toxins left in his body, not even a single inflammation marker showed up on the tests." With that, Tony expectantly turned to me.

I chewed on my lip in contemplation. "Magic," I simply answered, figuring Strange had already briefed him about my occupation.

Tony shook his head with a snort. "Magic that the Sorcerer Supreme doesn't recognize or cannot detect?" The question was saved in nature.

Stephen Strange was Sorcerer Supreme and I had pissed him off and remained alive. I couldn't believe my luck, if Odette's stories were anything to go by. Inwardly rejoicing, I nonetheless resigned to answer truthfully. "Because there is nothing to detect, no foreign energy," I tried to phrase it in a way a scientist could understand. "What I use to heal, it is given me by nature and willingly. Think of me as a... Conductor. I merely store the energy short-term and direct it where it is needed."

That sparked a visible interest in Tony. He leaned forward, running my whole form, over and over, with his sharp eyes, searching for something I knew he wouldn't find. "Like... Making a blood transfusion?" It was obvious that he was thinking hard about the subject. "Like a successful organ transplant?"

"Something like that," I agreed amicably, seeing as he was talking at himself rather than engaging in a conversation with me.

"But it doesn't come from nothing, the first law of thermodynamics..." He started off in slight confusion.

"Yes, the total amount of energy remains constant," I interrupted him, making his eyes widen. "It's all around us, Mr. Stark. You cannot see it, and most people even cannot feel it, but mother Earth supports her creations. More than we like to think," the corner of my mouth tilted upward at the memories. Working with Gaia directly was like being briefly submersed in a cocoon of pure, warm sunshine; like being held in mother's arms as a babe. "She is kind and she is merciful, especially to the ones whose suffering is unjust," I let the man mull over my words.

The waitress brought our orders; my throat was parched, I took a few haste gulps of the chocolate milkshake. Tony's burger, however, remained unnoticed and untouched.

"Earth is a sentient organism?"

The question made my eyebrows rise; I coughed slightly, meeting his confused eyes with a smirk. "Mr. Stark, keep your science headcanons to yourself," the banter came easily now that the status quo was established.

He rolled his eyes, fitfully resisting the smile tugging at his mouth. "I'm telling on you to Mean Green," there was no malice behind his words.

I doubted the shy scientist would do much more than stutter out two jumbled questions but let the topic slide in favour of closing up on the issue. "Would you call a wolf sentient? No," I shook my head. "But it is autonomous, it has free will. Think of it like that," I wasn't really up to par on explaining Tony all the ins and outs of my craft. The more I spoke, the more questions danced in his eyes. It was charming but not something I wanted to spend most of my day on.

"I won't pretend to be anything but sceptical but as it is, I happen to be dating a wizard," the engineer finally chortled, making hands for his burger. He made a vague gesture with his fork, expression still not-quite out of the thinking place.

"They say opposites attract," I shrugged.

"Romanoff keeps saying we're two sides of the same coin, so," he non-commitally shrugged in return. "Can't help but wonder what the fuck did you tell him that day. He was seething," Tony raised an eyebrow, tone teasing.

"Oh lord," I briefly palmed my face. "Here comes the shovel talk."

"No, no," a fry landed on the table in front of me. I snatched it right from under Tony's hand. He pouted. "He probably deserved it. I mean, you saved the Terminator and, honestly," he paused. "I heard about one third of his rant and I distinctly remember something about 'girls way over their heads' and whatnot," he did a poor imitation of his boyfriend's deep voice. "Now, I consider myself a feminist so, respectfully, I disagree," he finished with a self-satisfied smirk.

I blanked, trying to process the avalanche of information. "That's a lot to unpack," I acquiesced.

"It means he likes you. I would know," the man had the audacity to wink at me. And that, ladies and gentlemen, was Tony Stark.

"Are you hitting on me for your boyfriend?" I couldn't resist snarking back, briefly catching his eyes as I polished off my milkshake.

Tony looked at me through his thick, long lashes, a picture perfect visage of surprised innocence. "Maybe," his tone a little too south of friendly, the direction of his eyes a bit lower than my face.

The snort escaped me before I could put a stop to it. The banter - it was easy, comforting in this situation where I found myself to be akin a fish out of water. Like I was a slightly socially awkward witch, Tony was a genius engineer and a notorious flirt. He toed the lines of appropriate with practiced gusto and I hadn't had the heart to do anything but indulge in a little bit of harmless fun ever since he first stepped foot in the café, seeing right through his stone cold facade of an alleged womaniser. Call it a hunch, if you will.

Say what you want about Tony Stark but one thing was definite: he was a gentleman. I thoroughly enjoyed my ride home in his expensive, fast, latest model car. As the city streets zoomed by in a flurry of blurred lines and flashing colorful lights, I allowed my mind to finally calm and resume it's usual even wandering pace.

A hand loosely thrown over the steering wheel, Tony quietly hummed along to the music, playing with the hem of his tee whenever it wasn't occupied with driving the car. He looked so peaceful like that.

The sound system played some contemporary rock that blended in with the moderately busy afternoon of the NYC streets, submerging the surroundings in catharsis. Grey everything with the occasional burst of colour from a traffic light; the brief car ride lulled me into a state almost drowsy.

"You with me, Salem?" Tony's voice quietly took me out of my stupor.

I blinked, seeing the front door of my apartment building. "Yeah, yeah, thanks," I didn't resist the big, wide smile of relief and rejoiced upon seeing his face return to his normal expression, sparkling and mischievous. "That's my stop," I motioned lamely.

Something hung in the air, something unsaid. It leaked through the gaps between Tony's smile and his eyes, it filled up the car with something thick and foggy. I was powerless to stop its influence on me; the daze remained just as it was when we zoomed through city streets.

Tony's fingers twitched on the steering wheel as I exited the vehicle, giving him a short wave before he put pedal to the metal, quickly disappearing into the twilight. I watched his tail lights glow red amongst the flat blacks and greys and beiges of my surroundings, blinking away the dryness in my eyes only when the car disappeared from my view completely.

My apartment was just as I'd left it, warm and slightly messy- but a new feeling had crawled up from the very gutter of me, foreign and impending. The walls didn't breathe the comfort I had hoped I would finally find: if anything, none of what I encountered on my rapid beeline towards the couch felt real.

I'd grown accustomed to the comforts of my solitude and routine, to attached to the simplest task of being. Sorting through my dirty laundry had never been a favourable ordeal for me, I'd much rather lived in a relatively wide bubble- rationally, I knew that sooner or later, change had have to come, but there was nothing ever rational about having feelings on one matter or another.

My spirit was trying to tell me big things were coming and I had no choice but to listen and let the currents of fate and happenstance snatch me up and take me whichever way they pleased.

Taglist: @couldntbedamned @mikariell95 @letsby @sleep-i-ness @toomanyrobins @mostly-marvel-musings @persephonehemingway @schemefrenzy @lillsxd @bluecrazedandbeautiful @slothspaghettiwrites @xoxabs88xox

#practical alchemy #bun writes #tony stark x reader x stephen strange #stephen strange x reader x tony stark #Stephen Strange x reader #tony stark x reader #tony stark x y/n #tony stark x you #stephen strange x y/n #stephen strange x you #mcu fanfiction #marvel fanfiction

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sakuatsu · 4 years

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YELL 2 ME ABT SAKUATSU FIC RECS PLS

oh boy. oh boy do i have much to talk about

here’s a list of my sakuatsu must-reads under the cut! complete with links, word count, ratings, and occasional commentary because i’m incapable of shutting up. this isn’t in any particular order either

(keeping this sfw and organized into canonverse/AUs. a * means i am on my hands and knees begging for you to read this)

i’ll try to update this somewhat regularly :]

most recently updated august 25, 2020!

canonverse:

*your highs and lows (series) by astroeulogy

a post-time skip canonverse series born from these two questions:

1. what if sakusa kiyoomi, known too-blunt jerk, is equally straightforward about his soft, tender feelings?

2. what if miya atsumu, resident big fat jerk who doesn't care if his teammates hate him, is too emotionally stunted to notice when his one of his teammates actually likes him?

this is like the sakuatsu series but it’s blasphemous to not recommend. the first fic in the series is all that you were (4.6k, T). mind the ratings on a few of the fics, but my personal favorite is #3: a masterpiece of domesticity called you have tamed me (5.7k, T). these make me ACHE

*sakuatsu domesticity simulator by pseudoanalytics (T)

a vaguely interactive mixture of fic, art, and html, where you too can experience the inherent romance of a big fat jerk and a too-blunt jerk attempting intimacy

this fic...this fic...op is literally one of my favorite artists of all time but Did You Know that their writing is also off the charts. what a wonderful use of second person and the pacing is so good. too much skill in one person

*The MSBY Black Jackals Read Thirst Tweets by isaksara (11.4k, M)

Sakusa’s eyes are very dark naturally, sucking in all surrounding rays of light and crushing them in his pupils. For an athlete, he is rather pale. His lips look very pink in comparison. Atsumu is suddenly catastrophically aware that in this instance, ‘accent’ is a euphemism. “Good enough for your Olympic-size ego, Miya?”

(In which Atsumu realizes that he is attracted to Sakusa Kiyoomi in the most inconvenient way possible.)

i think this is the fic that got me into sakuatsu in the first place lol i was looking very specifically for msby socmed fics and now here we are. this fic is unbelievably funny

*liminal spaces by hhatsuna (25.9k, T)

Fuck you, Atsumu thinks, pointing at the pixelated Sakusa in the grainy team photo on his bedside table.

It’s easier than you’d think to ignore loving your teammate.

*Better For Us Both by abrandnewheart (15.7k, M)

Where “You already make me the happiest guy alive, babe," gives way to, “I’ve not been happy for a while now.”

Alternatively known as the ‘mug fic’.

yes this is a breakup fic. yes im going to recommend it anyway. breakup fics usually scare me a lot but this one is too good for me to not say anything about. nuanced and delicious. i look at the mug on my desk and feel pain

dog eat dog eat dog world by perennials (8.4k, T)

You are your first and only line of defense against the universe.

Koi no Yokan; 恋の予感 by ymra (15.3k, unrated)

Wherein Sakusa dreams of his future selves and discovers a little something along the way.

autumn ends, but we remain by wolfsbvne (5.3k, T)

atsumu stares at his ceiling at 2am. he stares until he can make out designs in his popcorn ceiling. a cat there, an onigiri here, and then something that suspiciously looks like a mop of hair, triangle eyebrows, and oh those two bumps are moles right above what atsumu just mapped out as an eye.

(or, atsumu is in kind of in love. sakusa is maybe in like.)

your fingertips, branding irons by Ceryna (5.8k, T)

Between the accidental touches he's reconciled, the deliberate ones he's endured, and, from those he's built years of trust with, obliged– Kiyoomi has never wanted to let someone indulge.

Never, until Atsumu.

take what’s yours and make it mine by claudusdiei (5.9k, T)

atsumu falls in love four times in his life

(or: in which atsumu gets his heart broken twice, has the self-awareness of a sober mule and really likes yellow tulips)

every action has an equal and opposite reaction by akanemnida (10.4k, T)

Miya Atsumu gets a modeling contract with Calvin Klein, which sets Kiyoomi's heart in motion.

(Or: Sakusa Kiyoomi realizes that the rules governing the universe are absolute rubbish at explaining matters of the heart.)

*where i want to be by tookumade (8.8k, G)

In the time they’ve been teammates at the MSBY Black Jackals, Sakusa has never been to Atsumu’s place, and Atsumu has only been to Sakusa’s a few times. There’s an unspoken understanding here: that Atsumu knows him well enough to know that nobody’s house or apartment would ever really meet his ridiculously high standards, and he is most comfortable in the home he’s made for himself.

That, and, Atsumu being over at Sakusa’s means that he has to host him and do the cleaning afterwards, while Atsumu can just flit off back to his own place. So. There’s that.

Tonight. Tonight is not business as usual. Tonight is not familiar.

*san'yō expressway, 6:17 pm by yamabato (8.1k, T)

Atsumu tilts his head to watch a slice of orange light bend over the impassive planes of Sakusa’s face. He is absolutely, ruthlessly beautiful. It makes Atsumu want to punch something—put his foot through the windshield—scream, maybe.

Kiss him again, maybe.

They have 344 kilometers to figure this one out.

parallax error: angle of inclination by min_mintobe (10.8k, T)

But now there's the one person Atsumu'd promised himself never to touch. His eyes leave Atsumu breathless with guilt at seventeen, and he spends the next six years safe in the satisfaction of making things right.

Feelings, of the physical kind, and one kiss.

ft. competitive spirit, childishness, and late night conversations.

Atsumu POV.

four leaf clover by vicari_us (5.9k, T)

Once, Ushijima claimed that they ‘got lucky’. If properly honed, their body types could become near invincible weapons.

However, unlike Ushijima, Kiyoomi’s weapon required a bit more care over the years to reach the condition it had become. He was born iron, not yet forged into steel.

Exploring what it might have taken to turn a genetic mistake into an athletic miracle.

*the 28 postcards you left me by wheelspokes (8.3k, T)

Atsumu takes texting your ex to a new level by sending Sakusa postcards in Animal Crossing instead.

such a unique premise & this is so beautifully structured. stunning flow and who knew animal crossing could convey so much longing...

AUs:

Pas De Deux by hhatsuna (dancer!sakusa au: 19.0k, T)

The mystery athlete gives Kiyoomi a once over in the mirror. “Yer pretty tall,” he observes, and the twang of an accent rasps low in his throat. His brazen eyes drift to Kiyoomi’s legs, and something like exhilaration glints gold in his gaze. “Good quads, too. Ya ever played volleyball?” Ah. So it’s volleyball.

“I’m a dancer. Ballet and contemporary, mostly.”

*my love, take your time by bastigod (archaeologist!sakusa au: 9.0k, T)

There was something sublime about wandering around an empty museum. Nothing could compare to the sound of his shoes clacking against the marble floor, the morning sunlight gently streaming through the lofty windows and the peaceful solitude of ancient stone kings overseeing their silent kingdoms.

A day in the life of Doctor Kiyoomi Sakusa, Archaeologist.

i’ve literally been thinking about this fic every day since it came out. you will not find a story like this anywhere else, i guarantee you. what a clear labor of love this fic is it’s truly something so special

three roses and a smile by strawberrycitrus (surgeon!sakusa & microbiologist!atsumu au: 19.7k, T)

“I just got this job, I’m not givin’ it up for some moral boost ‘cause I actually need to pay my rent, ya insensitive -” Atsumu waves his hands around, trying and failing to come up with the right word to convey the amount of injustice that this gaunt motherfucker has brought into his relatively simple life thus far.

“If you can’t pay your rent, go get a job at the McDonald’s over by 8th Street,” Sakusa growls, “it’ll pay more than your researcher position.”

If you even attempt assault on a coworker, forget teaching about cells - you’ll fucking be in one, Atsumu.

*Dance of the Parallax by astroeulogy (ogre spirit!sakusa au: 6.7k, T)

For the last twenty years, Atsumu’s done all that he can to break his betrothal to the ogre spirit Sakusa. If he can just make it through one more night, he’ll be free.

honestly, just read everything by astroeulogy. i’m recommending this fic in particular because it has such an ethereal voice to it. magical

across oceans, across centuries by starstrikes (pacific rim au: 20.0k, T)

Six days ago, Osamu died and left Atsumu with this: Atsumu, you have to—

(Namikira rises with the tides and rips Osamu and Vulpis Empress away in one fell swoop. Six days later, Atsumu wakes up alone in a hospital bed and learns how to swim.)

you don’t actually need to know pacrim to appreciate this. a wonderful exploration of grief and recovery. also it’s exactly 20k words which is both satisfying and terrifying

*Notte Stellata by awkwardedgeworth (ice skating/dancing au: 20.8k, T)

"Your partner doesn't need to hold anyone's hand other than yours," Sakusa's father crouches, "And you can wear gloves."

Sakusa ponders. He hears the other skaters of rink two whiz past as they launch themselves into lifts.

"Alright," He looks up from the ice, not knowing how he'll dedicate the next couple of decades to this sport, this partnership, this boy.

what a stunning fic. a beautiful progression of sakusa & atsumu’s relationship, rife with references to real skating programs, beautifully written and structured. so full of longing i’m in mild physical pain

#if anyone else has recs feel free to drop them in the replies mwah #sakuatsu fic is SO high quality you can literally just look at the tag and blindly press and find something stunning #these are just my personal favorites #basically just my ao3 bookmarks and then some #sakuatsu #sakusa kiyoomi #miya atsumu #sakuatsu fic #haikyuu fic #ask #reynegades #thank you for asking.....ive been dying to make a fic rec post i just needed a push lol #fic

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koko-bopp · 4 years

Text

Like I Need You

jeong yuno x male!reader

word count - 1K

genre - the holy Trinity of angst, sex and fluff

warning(s) - mature-ish, friends with benifits, fwb to lovers, self-doubt, minor friendzoning

synopsis - you've had this kind of relationship with Jaehyun for a while; the whole friends with benifits thing, and even despite the fact, you two maintain a healthy friendship. However, while all this is happening; Jaehyun kind of wants more. {Also very briefly inspired by like I need you by keshi}

A loud moan swept past your lips, your body shook at the response of Jaehyun calling you his good boy as his hands bruised the sides of your hips. His mouth was on your neck, ravishing up the skin like it had been untouched even though you two were in this position not less than four days ago.

"Fuck, you're so good for me," Jaehyun just couldn't get his hands off of you, and honestly, the feeling was mutual; you had a hand in his hair as the other was clawing his back; your nails sinking into the skin of his shoulder; hearing him whince and digging his fingers into his hips even harder was your response.

He didn't remember how tonight's meeting started, his only goal involved making you feel as sexually satisfied as possible; wanting to hear you moan his name, leave hickeys, bruises and scratches on his body and he'd happily do the same for you, look at him with lust-driven expressions with your tongue sticking out just to get him more riled up.

"J-Jae! Oh my god, I'm gonna–" You moaned, and ended up letting out a broken chuckle at the end of it as you felt Jaehyun smirk against your neck. You shut your eyes tight and allowed yourself to release onto yourself and Jaehyun, the orgasm hard enough to make your knees buckle and give you that sense of ecstacy.

Jaehyun let out a string of grunts and groans as he came, his breathing uneven for the duration before he looked at you through tired eyes, grinning at your, too, fucked out expression. He pulled out carefully, and even after you hadn't moved from his lap.

You had you mouth agape and just a bit of saliva falling from your tongue as you wiped your bottom lip with it, the dryness of constantly breathing from your mouth from how exhilarating this whole... experience was. You manage to catch your breath, only a little, but you smiled down at Jaehyun, "Wanna tell me again that I wouldn't be able to ride you?"

Jaehyun shook his head, closing his eyes for that moment before opening them to respond to you, his hands how having a softer grip on you as they moved up to support your back, "Not at all, I take back what I said, you– man, you just did all that so well."

You giggled, using the back of your hand to push away the hair that was stuck on Jaehyun's forehead and move it back with the rest of the lovely strands of hair.

It made Jaehyun nervous, because you were treating him like a lover, not that you can tell, because this thing has been going on for three months now;

The whole; 'bet-you-can't-[insert sexual act]'

İt was all fun and games, there was no competitive or aggressive nature to it, it was more like a gentle nudge to get one to sleep with the other.

Because usually if your friend said with clear indication of his statement being a joke; 'damn, you got a small mouth, bet you couldn't fit anything bigger than a Pocky stick in there' you wouldn't offer him a blowjob to prove him wrong.

Or maybe you would, but in this case, you did.

It just continued. You two would just visit each other with the intention of just watching a Disney movie only for Jaehyun to be on top of you right before the credits roll in.

This whole experience was definitely fun, but it made Jaehyun confused.

Because unknown to you, Jaehyun really likes you.

It wasn't just when you'd moan his name he'd feel a sense of pride; it would be when you'd pick him over the other boys when you needed help with something; he knew you could wrap any man you wish around your finger and yet he was always the one you wanted.

Sometimes the guys would talk about who they found attractive and make a few comments about what they liked about them, then you'd jokingly say that Jaehyun was the only guy you needed. It would make the brunet joyous as hell, but it was a joke, so he'd do his best not to get to him.

'Guys like Jaehyun are my type', you'd once said. Well, what was wrong with him? Guys that are 'like' him? Similar but not exact? What the hell does that even mean?

There were still guys you flirted with, dudes you'd gone out with, men who'd allow to touch you but never in the ways and with the intentions that Jaehyun had, but then these gentlemen would finally take the courage step to shoot their shot; but you always turn them down. Claiming they weren't the one you wanted.

Jaehyun loved touching you, feeling you and kissing you; placing his hands on your skin, leaving marks for the next guy who tries to make a move,

Maybe you think about him the way he does about you.

"What's wrong, baby?" You ask, you hadn't looked at him directly, still gently pushing the hair back that was making its way forward consecutively, but you'd seemed to notice Jaehyun lost in thought as he stared at you.

Jaehyun's heart stared racing, not the kind when you'd make the first move to climb onto his lap; but the nervous, uncovering of a secret kind.

He shook his head, smiling at you, "It's nothing," he said, "You don't have to worry."

"Of course I do," you sympathised, "What kind of friend would I be?"

Jaehyun swallowed hard. Friend? Was that all he was to you?

That, he wasn't sure why, but it really hurt. He dropped his gaze at you, desperately trying to look somewhere else as his mind dwelled on the word.

You noticed the behaviour, moving your hand down to his cheek so he could look at you. You had a pout on your lip, and Jaehyun wanted to lean up at kiss it, but he stopped himself as you spoke; "Are you gonna tell me?"

Jaehyun swallowed the lump in his throat, he was struggling to look at you, but he tried his best anyway. "[Y/N]...?" He started then stopped himself, hesitant.

"Yes, Jaehyun," you continued.

"Are we.. just friends if we're fucking?"

It took you my surprise, you were kind of hoping that he'd bring it up, because you didn't have it in you to as the same question. "Where's this coming from?" You ask. It was a little unexpected, especially right after one of your sessions, but you smiled softly at Jaehyun, then leaned forward to place your forehead on his, your hand on his cheek falling down to his shoulder as you spoke through half-lidded eyes, "Only if you want it to be."

No way.

He pulled apart, mainly out of shock, he was expecting a 'i like it the way it is' or a 'lets keep it like this', because you're you, you wouldn't turn him down harshly, and he would just accept it the way it is because he's not a jerk. But he earned it vaugely what he wanted to hear. "What? [Y/N], are you–?"

You've kind of always had a crush on him, part of you just didn't believe that the feeling was mutual, so you never knew of you should've been allowed to act on it, even if a few of his friends were telling you to do so, you were still unsure, so you hid behind your feelings with comments of uncertainty.

Your cheeks felt hot at his reaction, and partly because you taking small steps to get to the main message was becoming so much easier yet so much difficult. You shrugged softly, "Yeah, I guess I am," you said shyly, "And I think we've been doing this enough to ask you to be my boyfriend." You your playing with the cross earing that was hanging from Jaehyun's earlobe as a distraction, avoiding the grin on his face.

"So, are you going to ask?" Jaehyun teases.

"I donno," You respond, beyond flustered, "Are you going to accept?"

"Of course," Jaehyun rolls his eyes, placing a kiss on the skin of your cheek.

Wow, after being reluctant for months on end.

He got what he was hoping for.

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jaskiers-sweetkiss · 4 years

Text

Sunset Swerve - Part 1

Pairing: Luke x OC

Word Count: 2.1K

Series Summary: Apollo 81 and Sunset Curve had been rival bands since their creation, and their leaders, Jordan Moss and Luke Patterson, had despised each other even further. Things were just looking up for both bands as they get the opportunity to play at the Orpheum but a few bad hot dogs send Luke, Alex, Reggie, and Jordan to early graves before they get the chance. 25 years later the ghosts of Sunset Curve accidentally release Jordan from an old Apollo 81 demo and tensions between her and Luke immediately flare. However, they need to band together to finally accomplish their life-long goals: to play their music for the world.

Warnings: uhh some cursing, mentions of death (I mean, the main characters are ghosts)

A/N: I’m officially obsessed with this show and its characters and I would very much like my own hot ghost band please and thanks. Please let me know what you think and send me an ask if you’d like to be tagged in future chapters!

Teaser Part 2 Masterlist

___

The relatively empty theater erupted into cheers when Sunset Curve finished their soundtrack. Jordan didn’t deign to join the venue’s staff in their congratulations; though the band clearly deserved the praise, she’d never admit it out loud. Sunset Curve were good, and if Jordan didn’t despise their lead singer so much she’d probably be a fan but that simply wasn’t the case. She and Luke had been rivals since grade school and it was only fitting that they both started their own bands and had been competing for venues for years. What didn’t make sense was that when Sunset Curve booked a headliner at the Orpheum, they recommended Apollo 81 as their opening act. Jordan could only assume Luke had done it to rub in the fact that they were headlining the Orpheum but still, the venue was a hotspot for record execs- Sunset Curve had given them a huge opportunity to go big.

“We gotta fuel up before the show, I’m thinking street dogs,” Luke’s proclamation was met with cheers from Alex and Reggie, and Jordan rolled her eyes, lifting off the column she’d been leaning against to go find her own band.

“Moss, you in?” Luke called from the stage and Jordan startled, turning to give the boy a look of bewilderment. “C’mon, it’s on me.”

Jordan narrowed her eyes suspiciously but nodded anyway, adjusting her cross-body bag as she made her way to the guys. She watched bemusedly as Bobby made a beeline towards the cute Orpheum employee.

“You guys are really good,” she complimented. “I’ve seen a lot of bands, been in a few myself. I was really feeling it. You guys too.” She said, turning towards Jordan and the girl couldn’t help but beam at the complement.

“That’s what we do this for,” Luke said, clapping his bandmates on the back. “I’m Luke, by the way.”

“Hi, I’m Reggie.”

“Alex.”

“Bobby.” The boy pushed Luke behind him and Jordan stifled a laugh.

“Jordan.” She introduced herself.

“It was nice meeting you guys. I’m Rose,” the girl introduced and Jordan began digging through her bag.

“Here’s our demo and a t-shirt,” she said, pulling them from her bag and offering them to Rose.

She kept a small supply of the merch on her at all times, anything to get their name out there.

“Geez, Moss. We offer you food and you try to outdo us?” Luke said, elbowing Reggie who looked confused for a second before offering up the merch in his hands.

“Oh! And here’s our demo and a t-shirt size beautiful,” he said with a wink, trying to outdo her and flirt at the same time. Jordan rolled her eyes.

“Thank you,” she gasped sincerely before slinging the shirts over her shoulder. “I’ll make sure not to wipe the tables with these ones.”

“Oh! Good idea!” Alex chimed in. “Whenever they get wet they sorta.. fall apart in your hands.”

Jordan snorted as the other guys blanched and the information.

“Don’t you guys have to go get hot dogs?” Bobby looked pointedly at the guys, silently urging them to leave before they could embarrass him further.

Luke grinned, hitting Bobby’s chest with the back of his hand as he leaned in towards Rose, “He ate a hamburger for lunch.”

The rest of the guys grinned as they walked out the venue’s back door. Jordan turned to smile apologetically at Rose and wave goodbye before jogging to catch up with the guys, her bag hitting her hip as she went.

When she caught up to them in the alley behind the theater Luke was going on about something cliche, wanting a connection with everyone through music or something. Jordan wanted to scoff but, well, she kind of agreed.

She and Reggie broke away from the group at the same time to hand out some of their t-shirts to the fans in line. They were in and out before the fans recognized them, resulting in them calling their names as the pair walked away.

“Great minds think alike, huh?” Reggie joked, bumping her shoulder with his own lightly as they caught up to the rest of the group.

Jordan laughed before furrowing her brow in confusion. When had Sunset Curve started treating her like she was one of them?

It must just be the exhilaration of playing the Orpheum, she concluded as they arrived at their destination.

“Uh, do you guys normally get your hot dogs out of the back of a car?” Jordan remarked, equal parts skeptical and disgusted as she looked down the ally at Sam & Ella’s.

“Relax, Moss,” Luke chided. “A hot dog’s a hot dog.”

Jordan rolled her eyes but followed them anyway, the four of them getting their hot dogs and crowing around the back of the Oldsmobile to add their condiments.

“It would be nice to eat somewhere where the toppings aren’t in the back of an Oldsmobile.” Alex acknowledged, accidentally getting pickle juice all over the owners’ jumper cables.

Once satisfied with their creations the boys plopped down on the sofa across the ally and Jordan perched on one end next to Reggie.

“This is awesome you guys. We’re playing the Orpheum!” Luke began to monologue as the guys looked at him with smiles on their faces. “I can’t even count how many bands played here and then got huge.”

Pride swelled up inside Jordan. Sure Apollo 81 was only the opening act, but they were still about to make their big break right alongside Sunset Curve. There was something poetic about it, two rivals about to achieve their dreams together.

“Eat up boys, and girl,” Luke added, grinning at Jordan. “‘Cause after tonight, everything changes.”

Like a scene right out of a movie, they all grinned at each other before taking their first bites.

Jordan grimaced at the flavor, remembering why she wasn’t a big fan of hot dogs.

“That’s a new flavor,” Alex said, sounding concerned but Reggie and Luke laughed it off.

“Chill man,” Reggie said nonchalantly. “Street dogs haven’t killed us yet.”

____ 25 years later ____

“Hey, what’s this Apollo 81 stuff doing in here?” Reggie called out into the garage.

The guys had just returned from the beach, their spirits lifted by their little jam session. Reggie had immediately poofed up to the loft, curious about what other items were left behind . Luke was sitting on his couch, lyric notebook in hand, inspired by his newfound ability to summon his guitar at will. Alex was laying across the couch with his feet in Luke’s lap, having just previously announced that he was considering taking up knitting to pass the time.

“Maybe Julie’s mom was a fan?” Alex answered, getting up from the couch to join Reggie in the loft, his interest piqued. Neither of the boys noticed the way Luke stiffened at the mention of the band.

Reggie nodded in response to Alex’s theory.

“I wonder what happened to them anyway?” He was sitting on the floor of the loft, the box in his lap as he rifled through some of the memorabilia- mostly flyers from their performances, from small open mic nights to the Orpheum. Reggie pulled out the Orpheum flyer. “Do you think Jordan survived that night? I mean, she was with us when we died but not in that weird room.”

“I don’t know Reg, I can’t see how she would’ve survived when we didn’t.”

“You think she’s still in her own black room? By herself?”

“That’s really depressing Reggie.” Alex deadpanned. “She probably passed on, y’know?”

“Yeah, you’re probably right.” Reggie brightened, returning the Orpheum flyer to the box and continuing to sift through it, Alex leaning over his shoulder as he did.

“Hey! Their demo!” He said excitedly, holding up the CD case. “I always secretly liked their music.”

“I think we all did,” Alex said thoughtfully, falling forward when Reggie poofed out from under him.

Reggie reappeared below the loft, making his way to the CD player left by their new band setup.

Before Alex or Luke realized what was happening Reggie had hit play on the machine and Apollo 81’s “Lost” was blasting through the garage.

“Woah! Reggie, people can hear that and Julie’s not here!” Luke exclaimed, jumping up from the couch to turn it off at the same time that Alex poofed down from the loft.

Before either of them could reach the CD player, something that could only be described as portal-esque opened up in front of them and the sound of the demo was drowned out by a feminine voice yelling “What the hell?!”

___

Jordan hit the ground hard as she was dropped from the portal. She didn’t even bother to stand up, instead letting herself fall flat on her back with a groan, her eyes shut.

What now? Another black room to sit in? She thought with a sigh. Death sucks.

“Is this how Julie felt?” A voice whispered.

The sudden awareness that she wasn’t alone startled Jordan and she quickly sat up, her eyes flying open only to be met with some of the last faces she had seen before she died.

She couldn’t help it, she immediately screamed and the guys started screaming too.

After a moment, the shock wore off (well, sort of anyway. She still had no idea what was going on) and the screaming stopped. Luke nervously offered a hand, presumably to help her up off the floor but she scowled and pushed it away, standing up on her own.

“Why am I back in your garage?” She asked, glaring slightly at the boys as if they were to blame, which they might’ve been. “And how the hell did you change the decor so fast?”

“Okay, well, it’s a little complicated-“ Reggie started but Alex put a hand on his shoulder to stop him.

“Well, you remember when we died, right?” Alex said in a much softer voice than Reggie, and Jordan nodded.

“You mean when you fed me a poisonous hot dog before I could perform at the Orpheum.” She said, glaring at Luke specifically.

“Hey! If you’ll recall, we all ate those hot dogs and we all missed our chance to play the Orpheum.” Luke bit back, immediately becoming defensive.

“Man, I really thought the twenty-five years might’ve quelled their rivalry,” Reggie muttered to Alex and Jordan whipped around to face him.

“Did you just say it’s been twenty-five years?” She shrieked and Alex groaned at his friend’s lack of tact.

“Yeah,” Alex answered, glaring at his bandmates to shut them up. “We died in ’95 and it’s 2020 now.”

“You’re telling me I was alone in that room for twenty-five years?” She asked, her voice becoming louder and more aggressive as she went on.

“Bet probably cried the whole time like Alex did.” Luke snarked and Jordan’s expression grew livid.

“Okay, first of all, crying is a completely reasonable reaction to dying. And second of all, fuck you, you emotionless piece of-“

The song change from the CD player caught her attention and her face broke into a self-righteous grin.

“Were you guys listening to our music?” She asked rhetorically, eyes gleaming at the discovery.

Luke scowled, stalking over to the CD player and turning it off.

“Aw, c’mon, that was one of my favorites,” she whined, following Luke’s steps towards the player and hitting play. Well, she tried to hit play but her finger went right through it.

Luke laughed triumphantly and Jordan stuck her tongue out at him, crossing her arms like a petulant child.

“Oh, very mature, Moss.”

“Oh, I’m immature? Even in death you’re still a whiny, jealous, dickhead!“

“Please! If anyone’s whiny and jealous it’s you!”

“Should we do something?” Alex asked in a whisper, leaning towards Reggie but unable to take his eyes off the two bickering ghosts in front of them. They were like a train wreck.

“Nah, just let them get it out of their systems,” Reggie responded, sounding confident despite past experience with the two.

“You are so self-obsessed!”

“Are you kidding me? You’re the queen of self-obsession!”

“Oh my gosh, I can’t do this!” Jordan exclaimed. “I’m out! See you in hell, asshole!”

“No, Jordan, wait!” Luke called but Jordan had already poofed away.

He slumped to the ground with a groan, head in his hands. “I have to go get her.”

“I’ve got it,” Alex said, resting a comforting hand on his shoulder before poofing away himself.

“You don’t think we’ll actually go to hell, do you?” Reggie filled the sudden silence and Luke shook his head, poofing out of the garage as well.

Part 2

#jatp #julie and the phantoms #jatp fic #julie and the phantoms fic #luke patterson #Luke Patterson fic #jatp luke #jatp luke fic #luke jatp #luke jatp fic #luke x oc #luke patterson x oc #reggie peters #jatp reggie #alex mercer #jatp alex #julie melina #ghost oc #musician oc

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lovelyirony · 4 years

Note

could you write something for trans pepper coming out to tony please?

authors note: i am not an expert, nor am i trans. please let me know if i have written anything wrong/harmful, and i’ll take it down

When Pepper started at Stark Industries, she told herself that she would not get too involved. She was here to do her job, and nothing else. She had caused “problems” at her last job, and in return they had caused problems for her as well.

(Sitting by herself at the cafeteria, fielding uncomfortable messages, and correcting intentionally wrong emails had been...exhausting. Mentally and physically.)

But this? No, this can’t go on.

The math is all wrong. It’s going to cost the company about a million dollars if she lets it pass, and while she’s sure that it could be replaced easily in a day, that’s the kind of thing that gets you fired. And when employers look at your resume and see that you were terminated from the highest-ranking job to have for an accountant, a prestigious company that takes pride in accurate numbers and satisfied employees?

Well...it doesn’t look too hot.

So she brings it up. Her boss isn’t exactly happy with her. She thinks the numbers were probably intentional.

“I’ve been doing this for years, I think I know a little bit more than you, young lady,” he scowls.

Pepper’s not exactly fazed at the dismissive remark.

“Then I’m sure that you’ll know that your math is wrong. It’d be better to double-check it and be right and have me be in the wrong than not check it and be fired.”

He doesn’t check it.

But when he’s called into Mr. Stark’s office, he must have mentioned her name.

He put the blame on her.

Pepper cannot believe it as she’s called in.

“So, Mark tells me that you did math wrong.”

“I didn’t. I triple-checked it, and kept the receipt tape as proof.”

“Oh, I know. Mark can’t do math for shit, but he hates when people tell him. But I’m glad you did, because it made me realize I can’t have someone who’s so insecure that when someone tells them to double-check it and they don’t because they want to be right, that...I don’t know what I was doing. Anyways, he’s fired.”

Pepper blinks.

“Really?”

“Yeah, really. Also, I’m reading your file. Virginia? Did your parents hate you?”

“Not the worst name I’ve been given,” Pepper says smoothly.

“Hm. Says here that you go by Pepper. I like that.”

“Thank you, chose it myself and everything.”

“And everything?” Tony asks, smiling. “I like that.”

Four months later, she’s in the break room when Tony’s personal assistant quits on the spot after he’s late for the third time in a week.

“I can’t fucking do this!” He screeches. “I’m done.”

Pepper’s not sure why she goes into Jason’s office and just looks at the schedule.

She calls his cell.

“Jason, seriously, I told you to quit bothering me.”

“It’s Pepper. Get your ass over here for your meeting, the board directors are about an inch away from reinstating Obadiah.”

“And that would be a bad thing...why?”

“You want your stock points to drop because you’re proving that you can’t be trusted to run a company?”

“I’ll be there.”

It’s the fastest time that Tony makes it into the office, by the way. Pepper’s only slightly proud.

She’s terrified when he offers her a position as a personal assistant. She’ll be in the limelight, people paying attention to her.

She modifies her contracts: no one is allowed to access any sort of personal information. At all. It has to be locked in a vault, only key is one that she and Tony know about.

“Anything I should know about?”

“Um. No.”

“Oh. Okay. As long as you aren’t secretly running any illegal thing out of one of the floors, then be my guest. But if you are, let me know. Petra in accounting--new hire, you wouldn’t know them--is secretly reselling wedding cakes. I think. Maybe the wedding cakes was a bad lie. Hell. But welcome aboard!”

Wrangling Tony is a lot like dealing with a goldfish. He’s a genius; she sees that when she walks into his house and sees about seven different projects lying around, and at least two papers that have notes about redoing a filtration system for drinking water.

He is also incredibly stupid.

“You have fifteen coffee cups out.”

“Impossible, I don’t own that many!”

“Aw, did you not take counting classes in preschool?”

Tony likes her. A lot. She’s got a bite of wit, no-bullshit when it comes to business, and never misses a beat. She also has a killer sense of style, and is the one who makes sure he’s not wearing a weird mixture of jeans and a sport coat.

“No.”

“Come on, it’s not like fashion actually matters that much. Well, not to me.”

“It should. You should be the most creatively dressed male out there, and you’re not. A black suit? God, that’s...that’s sad. No, I ordered you a blue silk suit. Embroidered with flowers all over, matching shoes with inverted colors. Come on. In you go.”

“Ugh.”

(His outfit is a smashing success, by the way. They ask who his stylist is, and he just says “Oh, my personal assistant said she would bury me in my garden if I wore a black suit. I would’ve dug it myself, looking on this now.”)

She does not tell him for a long time. At all. Because people are...weird about it. Weird questions, weird statements, and compliments so backhanded she doesn’t like to call them compliments.

But at some point, she needs to tell him. Or she wants to. She wants to, she doesn’t have to. Yeah.

Okay. So she’s in love with him. A tiny bit.

He makes her coffee. Every morning. Creamer goes into the mug first, then coffee. That’s the only way she takes it.

He compliments her a lot, and she knows that this shouldn’t be a reason that love qualifies but it’s nice to hear. He also bought her a very expensive pair of shoes.

Pepper honestly does want to tell him. She also does not want to lose her job, however. So she needs to gauge the situation. Maybe talk to some of her girlfriends, see what’s up.

Well then her boss goes missing for months and comes back and obviously you can’t tell someone you’re in love with them after they come back with an electromagnetic device in their chest. That’s just crazy.

He came back...different. New circumstances, new outlook on life. She relates a tiny little bit.

She buys herself a beautiful blue dress. He gives her his credit card, tells her to buy herself something nice, and goddammit she’s never been one to really disobey her boss. (Just bend some rules. Or create new ones that negate the old ones.)

She curls her hair and only curses eight times, which is actually pretty good. Her usual amount of cursing per-curling-session is about eighty-two.

He looks at her like she’s an angel, and she thinks...yeah. Okay. She’ll tell him that she’s in love with him.

Well then his uncle decides to attempt to kill him. God, what a mood killer. She hates this.

They’re laying down in his house on the patio, and he’s sipping on a smoothie that she’s honestly sure is 100% gross, and he turns to her.

“Would you ever want to go on a date with me?”

Pepper blinks.

“Yes,” she says without skipping a beat. “But we need to have a discussion before I dedicate myself to this cause.”

“What am I, a Salvation Army donation bin?”

“Maybe.”

“Then dinner-and-discussion tonight. Not a date. Just...talking.”

She’s nervous. She’s put her hair up so that she won’t run her fingers through it, but now she’s just fidgeting with her necklace and bracelet.

Tony looks nice. He’s in a casual graphic tee and old jeans that are older than she actually knew they could hold together. She is in old shorts and a tank top and yeah it’s casual but it’s also nice and wow she’s really over-thought this.

“So, what are your concerns?” Tony says. Getting to the point straight-away, that’s always his move. Pepper gulps.

“You mind if I get water?”

“Not at all.”

She sips on water.

“My concern is that I’m transgender and you need to know that before we pursue anything.”

Tony blinks.

“Um. Okay. Was not expecting that right out. I was more thinking you would have a problem with my new armor and Rhodey and I being immature when he visits and also how much time I spend on inventing.”

“Well yeah, those too. But I deal with those all the time. But I’m also concerned about you pissing off the government and them sending secret agents to kill us.”

Jarvis cuts in smoothly.

“I am afraid, Miss Potts, that they wouldn’t make it two hundred feet of this current residence. Would you like me to update security protocols at other residences around the globe?”

“You can do that?” Pepper asks.

“Yes, Miss Potts.”

“Please do update, thank you.”

Tony grins, looking at her. The same way. Which is kind of exhilarating, all things considered.

“You amaze me. J, remind me that if Pep and I break up, I need to build a bunker that could withstand a nuclear war.”

“I will not remind you of that, as I’m sure it will be on you,” Jarvis remarks.

Pepper snorts.

“I wasn’t aware that I was going to turn my AI against myself,” Tony sighs. “Such is life.”

Pepper grins. He squeezes her hand.

“You want to celebrate this with wine? I’m sure tomorrow you’ll have me signing so many forms for workplace relationships that I’ll cry by two p.m.”

“Make that one p.m., and you’ll be fine you big baby,” Pepper teases.

Tony blows her a kiss as he gets up from the couch.

“Thank you. For telling me. I know that that’s hard to tell people. Discuss more of it later, or now?”

“Mm, later. It’s late at night, I’m tired.”

“Gotcha. You want red or white tonight?”

“...Red.”

Tony grins, getting out the wine glasses. He pours carefully and expertly, and raises his. They clink their glasses together.

“Cheers to more success. For the both of us.”

Pepper grins softly.

“For success.”

#i was hesitant writing this #so if there is a problem here #or if i wrote something that is harmful/hurtful: PLEASE let me know #transphobia tw #lovelyirony writes #i do like this headcanon a lot tho #i think it's very nice :)#trans!pepper #pepper potts #tony stark #pepperony #anyways i just like that pepper is immediately like 'WELL CALLING YOU ON YOUR BULLSHIT'#and then tony's like 'omg ur the love of my life!'

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mandochlorian · 4 years

Text

WHEN WILL MY LIFE BEGIN? (Smuggler Ben Solo x Resistance!Reader)

Summary: You want more than this, more than being some Resistance member stuck on Base. Ben can give you more, he can show you more. If only he weren’t so stubborn and boring. One day, he gives into your begging and takes you to a harbour for smugglers thinking you’d get scared and like your life on Base more - that is, until it gets ugly.

based loosely on the Disney animated film ‘Tangled’

general masterlist

star wars masterlist

You hear the Millenium Falcon before you even see it. You feel your heart pick up speed and you can’t help the smile that glows across your face. Ben! Craning your neck to watch the ship as it speeds towards the hangar bay, Lando gives you an unamused expression.

“Alright, go,” he mutters, waving his hand in dismissal. Tilting your head at him, you frown slightly. “Go see lover boy.” Lando raises an eyebrow at you suggestively.

Pointing at him, you narrow your eyes, “Not my lover boy. But thanks!” Smiling, you jog to the massive freighter, seeing steam shoot from the exhaust pipes as it stabilises.

“I know!” You hear someone exclaim as the door and ramp begins to extend open, “You think I don’t know that? It was-” Upon seeing you, Ben ceases his argument with his droid. A smile makes its way to his lips and he places his hands on his hips. “What? D’ya miss me?”

You let out a scoff but you can’t help but smile back at him, “It’s impossible to miss your annoying voice.” If you were to step outside of yourself and watch this interaction, you’d slap yourself in the face. Are you... flirting? Stars, why do you always turn into this person when Ben Solo is around?

“Oh, really?” He muses, descending the ramp and his hands lay by his side now, “That’s not what I’ve been told.” He watches you, examines the effect he has on you when he stands close beside you.

“Hm,” you tease back, taking a moment to look up at him and ignore the heat rising to your cheeks, “then you’ve been lied to. Everyone talks about you behind your back when you leave.”

“Yeah?” He gazes at you, the corner of his lip turning up in a smile, “Glad to know I’m not the only one. I’ve heard some things about you too, princess.”

You let out a stark laugh, “Sure.”

“Oh, no, really,” he nods at you, giving you a false sincere expression, “It’s not good things. And you’re a bad liar, by the way.”

“Am I?”

“Yes,” he answers simply, his voice low and deep, “very bad.” It’s not lost on you that Ben takes a purposeful pause, pulling back before you can get a good look at the childish smirk that makes its way to his lips. “So, what do you want?”

“You know.” You sigh to him, following him and his droid as he heads to the base. It feels as though your heart is on the precipice of sinking as you await his response. Maybe today will finally be the day you get to ditch this place, even for a little while - you can escape the watchful eye of your controlling mother and let go for once. Ben’s eyes narrow slightly at you as he gives you a glance, before turning back to the droid repair room. “Ben, I-”

“I can’t take you with me, you know that.” Ben cuts your off, gesturing for his droid to join him on the bench. The 3PO unit, nicknamed ‘J’ for Junk, sits before its master, but it’s gaze lingers on yours.

“If I may interject-”

“You may not.” Ben frowns back, gently pulling J’s arm out. It had nearly gotten pulled from its socket while the pair were running from Kanjiklub only an hour ago.

“But, sir,” the droid interjects, looking to Ben who only focuses on fixing his arm as the conversation goes on, “I was only going to say it is not safe for Master Y/N.”

“Oh, for the last time,” Ben rolls his eyes at his droid, “I’m your master. I made you!”

“I know this,” J say, turning to look at you, “But Master Y/N-”

“No-”

“-She takes care of me just the same as you do.”

“Thanks, Junk,” you tell the droid. Ben pauses, letting out a sigh as he looks at you. The way you grin at him makes him want to roll his eyes but he just sighs once more instead. “I think I’ll be perfectly fine. Please.”

“You’re not smuggling with me.” Ben shakes his head, pointing a wrench at you, “That’s where I draw the line.” He clenches his jaw, looking down at you closely, “And - and what’s your obsession with this anyway, huh?” Ben asks curiously, wishing you didn’t take your hand away from his arm.

“I just - I want to get out of here,” you admit to him, “Just this once. I don’t want to be stuck here forever like my mom, I want to travel. I want to be like you.”

“No, no,” he shakes his head, “You don’t want to be like me, I’m just a smuggler. You, Y/N, you’re important here. You’re important to the Resistance, I’m just a smuggler who drops in every once in a while.”

Looking up at him, you sense he’s slightly giving in, “You’re my closest friend. Ben, please, just - get me out of here.”

“You know how much trouble you’d get into?” He asks you, thinking about his mother and your mother and General Poe, “You know how much trouble I’d be in?” He adds.

“Please,” you whisper to him, “Just for tonight.”

“No.”

“Please. Come on.”

“Are you hard of hearing?”

“Come on.”

“Ugh!” He groans, unable to focus on J’s arm, “Fine. But we’re not taking you on a run.”

You smile at him, “Where will we go?” You wonder curiously.

Thinking it over for a moment, a satisfied expression crosses his face and he continues working on J’s arm, “You’ll see.”

It was loud. And kind of... dirty. Ben thought when he turned to look at you, your face would be full of disgust. But in reality, you had never seen anything like this place before. To Ben, this was a place he’d frequent - much like his father did in his golden days.

The chatter amongst the people here almost rattles your ears as much as the music does, and you turn to Ben, tugging on his shirt to make him lean down. “This place is insane,” you tell him, lips nearly touching his ear, “How often do you come here?”

As if on cue, the noise of someone shouting tears you two apart, “Solo!”

A frown crosses Ben’s face as the familiarity of it but he stands up straight and proud, turning to face the voice that calls to him. He pauses for a moment, going a little tense. But then he leans down to whisper in your ear, “Stay behind me.” Ben takes a small step forward, half blocking you from the man who approaches with a less-than-pleased look on his face. “Bala-Tik.” Ben nods back, face expressionless.

“You and your father are hard men to find. I’ve been tracking you for months. And this...” Bala-Tik’s eyes flicker from him to you, “This is how I find you? The great smuggler Ben Solo and some girl.”

If the comment made Ben annoyed, he does nothing to show it - his cold expression and stance unwavering, “If it’s the money you’re looking for, you know I don’t have it. Yet.” Ben stares at the men clad in black leather, who watch him with hate in their eyes.

“We’re tired of your games!” He shouts, nostrils flaring as he stares Ben down, “You’ve had long enough! You think you can steal from the Guavian Death Gang and get away with it?”

“Uh, yeah,” Ben pouts, shrugging gently as he stares down at the shorter man, “Unless you want to lose both your kneecaps, I suggest you wait another month. Or until you find me again.”

Bala-Tik throws his head back as he laughs wickedly. He then tilts his head, looking down at you with a devilish grin. Ben, tall and broad, stands in front of you, causing the man to let out another chuckle. “You’re outnumbered. You and your little friend.”

“Never stopped me before.” Ben answers back, one hand hovering over the blaster on his hip. It’s not lost on you that the men have weapons of their own - and you have... nothing. Nothing but Ben. Shit. Maybe it was a bad idea. He had tried to warn you after all but you were so persistent and stubborn. Now look at you both. This is exactly the shit your mother warned you against. This is what she kept trying to protect you from. This is all your fault.

“I’m not sure you’re equip to keep both of you safe.” As soon as the threat leaves Bala-Tiks mouth, Bens blaster is pointed between his eyes. The gang pull their weapons out too and Bala-Tik smiles, clucking his tongue. “Bad decision, Solo.”

“Hey!” Someone shouts above the noise before a few shots are heard, making the customers of the cantina cower and run around. In the mess of it all, Ben pulls you against him, quickly cowering down behind the bar and shielding you with his body.

“This what you wanted?” Ben asks, peering out of the bar and firing a few shots. When you don’t respond with your usual wit, Ben turns back to gaze at your shocked expression. “Hey,” he mumbles gently, a warm hand placed on your cheek, “We’ll be back on base in no time.”

You weren’t sure how to tell him that even though this is insane and you could’ve died, it was kind of... exhilarating. Peering out again, Ben’s hand grips yours before clearing the path to the exit. But before you can leave, a loud roar causes Ben’s eyes to widen. He stops in his tracks, leaving you to watch on with frightful and curious eyes. Ben turns back to the cantina, tense shoulders falling slightly. Wide smiles grow on both your faces when you see the pair.

“Chewie!” Ben exclaims, letting go of your hand to embrace the Wookie.

“And Dad,” Han gives his son a look, shaking his head as he watches Chewie hug you too, “Y/N. I see he’s brought you into trouble.”

“Oh, no,” you shake your head, looking down, “I wan-”

“Actually, I’m pretty sure this is your fault, Dad.” Ben interjects, not letting you take the fall for this situation. He already feels bad enough putting you in harms way, there’s no way he’ll let Han relay to your mom that you had begged to go off base.

“Come again, kid?” Han narrows his eyes at his son, walking past to look at the Falcon in it’s parking spot.

Ben stands beside his dad, “You’re the one who owes the Death Gang credits.”

Pointing a finger at his son, Han gives him a frown, “Last I remember, we both made the deal!”

Ben cringes slightly, shaking his head a little at his old dad, who looks between the group with an incredulous look, “We were together... but you made that deal on your own, old man.”

Looking to Chewie for back up, Han expects agreement. But the Wookie just mewls softly. Ben is right. Your gentle laugh gains both the Solo’s attention; Han, because you shouldn’t be here at all, and Ben, because the sound makes his heart flutter as he opens the ramp to the Falcon.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Han begins, arms crossed over his chest, “You’re lucky you made it out.”

“Thanks to your son,” you smile back at Han, who’s expression seems to soften gently. He senses something between the two of you... Maybe Leia’s suspicions were right all along. Han isn’t surprised. When you look at Ben, he gives you a kind smile before taking a step on the ramp.

Han, leaning down toward you slightly gives you a look, “You know you don’t have to come along to places like this just because he’s here. He can find other friends eventually.” He teases, making you let out a laugh.

You shake your head at the old smuggler, “I don’t think so, no one else will put up with him.”

Han chuckles, looking at the Falcon which roars to life. Ben emerges from the ship, heading to you, Han, and Chewie. “Look, kid,” he begins, “I won’t tell anyone I saw you two here today. Alright?”

“Really?” Your eyes brighten as you look up at him.

Ben rests his hands on his hips, “What’s the catch?” He muses.

“No catch, just be careful, nerf-herder.” Han tells Ben, who just rolls his eyes at his dad. “Only dummies bring the Falcon here, you know how much attention she brings? Are you a dummy, Ben?” Han frowns at his son.

Ben stares at his dad. This is a common thing. Han thinks it’s funny. Ben’s not sure why. You’ve become used to it. “No... No, dad, I’m not a dummy.” Ben sighs. Stars, he wishes his parents weren’t so embarrassing every time you and him were together.

“Y/N,” Han questions, his face stoic, “are you a dummy?”

Your eyes flick to Ben’s before looking back to Han, “I... hope not.” You give a forced smile, widening your eyes slightly to make light of the situation. You’re just hoping he doesn’t report this to Leia or worse, your mom.

Chewie roars, making a comment to Han about how they both seem too young to not be dummies. Han laughs to himself, seeming to love embarrassing the two of you. He’s always been like this. Maybe this is where Ben gets his wit. “Alright, then get outta here. Before something else happens.” Han waves you both off but he gives you both a small but kind smile.

“Good seeing you, Dad,” Ben laughs, stepping back onto the ramp, “Bye Chewie!” You follow suit, waving at the pair before you and Ben ascend the ramp. He lets out a hefty sigh, heading to the cockpit and you watch him take the pilots seat. “Are you alright?” He asks, tone filled with concern when he see you standing in the doorway instead of heading to your seat beside him. “I didn’t realise tonight would go this way, I... I’m sorry. I’ll take you home right away.”

“No,” you shake your head gently with the admittance, “no, Ben, I don’t want to go home.” Ben watches you, wondering if you’re still in shock of how quickly the night turned sour. “You didn’t rat me out to your Dad,” you note, sitting beside Ben who just stares at you vacantly, “I begged to be off base tonight but you let yourself take the fall. Why?”

Thinking it over, Ben gives you a small shrug as the Falcon rattles into the air, “Didn’t want your mom to lock you in your room forever.”

“You’d miss me too much, huh?” You tease him, recounting his words from earlier as you look into the starry night sky. The ship takes off smoothly, still running like it used to.

“Yeah,” Ben breathes, causing you to turn to look at him, “Yeah, I would.” He admits, not thinking. When Ben looks to you, he just gives you this kind of look. This sort of unspoken look.

Your cheeks heat up and a smile breaks onto your face, “Well, you’re a smuggler - you could sneak me out.”

Ben grins back at you, “Yeah, and risk your life in the process. Yes, I’m still sorry about how tonight went. I feel like the worst person ever.”

“Ben, come on,” you furrow your eyebrows at your friend, “We’re here, we’re alive, no bumps or bruises. And tonight isn’t over yet.”

Ben glances from the sky in front of him and to your expression, “You’re - wait - you’re serious?” When you nod, Ben gives you a grin, “You are a rebel. The Resistance is a good fit for you then.”

Bringing the ship down, Ben eyes a good place to land on top of the sandy mountain. The silence the Falcon leaves once it’s turned off is calming. You both step out onto the cliff, overlooking dim city lights in the distance. The stars mimic the cities shine, splayed brilliantly across the navy blue sky.

It’s not cold. Not with Ben by your side. You both sit at the precipice of the cliff, thighs touching one another with the proximity. You let out a calm sigh, resting your head against Ben’s shoulder as you gaze at the beauty of this planet. “I know tonight was... insane. But I think I’m insane in saying that it was kind of-”

“If you say ‘fun’, I swear-”

“It kind of was!” You defend yourself, pulling away to look at him, “It was better than any day I’ve had on base. So, thank you.”

A small smile rests on Ben’s lips as he gazes down at you fondly, “You are insane.” He mumbles, his lips suddenly feeling incredibly close to yours.

“Says you,” you mutter back to him, “that’s the type of stuff you do every day.”

“Hm,” Ben agreed, “Does it make me rugged and handsome?”

A laugh passes your lips and you throw your head back to look at the sky, “Shut up.” You shake your head.

Ben laughs, staring at you with parted lips, “So it does! Good to know!” He muses, watching you glance at him only to stare ahead at the view.

“Shut up.”

“Don’t get all shy on me now,” Ben whispers, staring into your eyes when you look at him, “Tell me how attractive this life makes me.”

“And you call me insane?” You note, breath catching in your throat when you notice him leaning in towards you.

“Mhmm,” Ben responds, his voice barely above a whisper, “Insane enough to be here with me.”

“Well, you’re...”

Ben cuts you off with his lips pressing against yours. Your eyes are closed and you can feel his gentle hands upon your hips as he kisses you so gently. It heats your cheeks up. Makes you smile uncontrollably. Ben pulls back slowly, pressing his forehead against yours. “I’m a what?” He inquires, wanting you to finish your statement.

“You’re a...” you feel breathless as your heart pounds in your chest and your eyes remain closed, “A good kisser.”

#ben solo fic #ben solo #ben solo x reader #ben solo imagine #ben solo x reader imagine #ben solo x you #ben solo fanfiction #smuggler ben solo #smuggler!ben solo x reader #smuggler ben solo x reader #smuggler!ben solo #ben solo x reader imagines #ben solo x reader oneshot #ben solo x reader angst #smuggler!ben solo x reader angst

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hehron · 4 years

Text

Golden Trio Midlife Adventure!

Hi, just trying my hand at post-canon HP to participate in the happy birthday harry writing fest by @fightfortherightsofhouseelves !

“What’s the birthday boy doing sitting all alone?” Ron asked loudly as he plopped down in the armchair in Harry’s study.

“Not brooding, I hope.” Hermione added, shooting a disapproving glance at the glass in his hand.

“It’s just pumpkin juice.” Harry told her, then a little defensively asked. “And why would I be brooding?”

Ron and Hermione gave him knowing looks.

“Harry, Harry, Harry,” Ron tutted in a dramatic fashion. “The fortieth is an earth-shattering explosion, like our new Fakequake Wheeze, especially for the faint of heart such as yourself, who don’t have all my hard-earned wisdom.” Ever since his great leap into the forties, Ron, heavily influenced by George, had leaned into the whole ‘Wise Old Dumbledore’ talk, despite Hermione’s reminders that he was nowhere near half of Dumbledore’s age or have half his wisdom for that matter, she added to Harry privately one day.

“Like I say every year, I feel lucky to have lived this far.” Harry insisted, though the churning in his stomach told him otherwise.

“Then why did you make Ginny exchange that comfy armchair she bought you for that new Dragon Taming Kit?” Hermione asked slyly.

“I need it! It could be useful on a case.” He defended.

“Yeah, right.” Ron snorted. “Unless you have the sudden desire to go on one of Luna and Rolf’s expeditions or developed a sudden, secret crush on Charlie-”

“Fine,” Harry cut him off. “Maybe I am a little upset but it’s still nothing compared to your I’m-Still-Not-Minister-Yet or Where-Did-My-Thirties-Go crisis.”

“It was a very understandable crisis!” Hermione said indignantly. “I was behind on my life plans by two months!”

Harry and Ron shared a look. Hermione’s life plan had been the catalyst to many fights and the butt of many jokes over the years.

“Love, you know our plans never really work-” Ron began.

“You mean your plans. My plans work out perfectly as long as you two don’t interfere.” She said with a pointed glare at Harry.

“No work talk on my birthday.” He grinned.

“Fine, but I want those papers back first thing tomorrow morning.” She said with a half smile.

“We should start our plans for today though. Don’t want to be late for Ginny’s big party.” Hermione said briskly while Ron’s face broke out into a huge grin at Harry’s confused look.

“What plans?”

“This is ridiculous!” Harry spluttered as they stood at the entrance to Honeydukes. A few people were milling about the streets but it was nothing compared to Hogsmeads’ usual bustle during the school season.

“Come on, it’ll be fun. Just like old times.” Ron chuckled, pushing him forwards.

“I can’t believe you’re going with this.” Harry said to Hermione.

“It was her idea.”

“What?!” Harry exclaimed as Ron burst into laughter.

“Don’t look so shocked, Harry. I’ve come up with just as many silly ideas as you two. Or have you forgotten about Christmas 2002?” Hermione asked with a self-satisfied smile.

Harry shook his head, grinning.

“Still seems a bit childish.”

“It’s supposed to be childish, mate.” Ron said, slapping his back.

“So you don’t forget what it’s like to be young.” Hermione said, before rummaging through her bag and pulling out a silvery cloak.

“Where-” Harry began.

“I borrowed it from James. What’s an adventure without the invisibility cloak?”

She threw it over them, and they trued to squeeze themselves together. Harry suddenly had a flashback to the last time the three of them had been in a similar position in the town and felt a rush of gratitude that the two situations couldn’t be more different.

“Our feet are still outside.” Ron grunted, trying to stretch the cloth.

“Don’t rip it Ron!” Hermione exclaimed. “We can just cast invisibility charms on our feet.”

“Yeah, now it seems like a good thing that you quit the Aurors. You’ll get your feet blown off with those kinds of ideas.” Harry teased.

Ron made a rude gesture before Hermione dragged them both down the hidden one-eyed witch passageway. It was a lot longer but considerably less dirty than they remembered it.

“Must be the kids. They sneak out to Hogsmeade at least twice a week.” Ron whispered.

“If they ever found out about this after all the grief we gave them about sneaking out-” Harry started.

“Bit rich coming from you, isn’t it?” Ron snickered.

“As if you’re one to talk.”

“Yes, yes, we were rule breaking hooligans and have descended to stuck up hypocrites. But what they don’t know won’t hurt them.” Hermione said.

“You’ve been spending way too much time with politicians.” Harry said to which she rolled her eyes.

Ron suddenly yelped as he knocked right into the exit. Harry cracked the door open and peered outside. Now that they were actually there, his heart was thudding frantically, a sort of exhilaration and nostalgia hitting him. A part of him had always missed it, the adventures with Ron and Hermione.

Hermione laughed quietly as Ron made an exaggerated show of tiptoeing outside. It was strange. They were adults, getting older by the second but at that moment, it seemed as if time had been reversed back thirty years, and they were the same giggling children they had been when they had first set foot in Hogwarts. That inexplicable feeling of remembering all the moments of happiness, bitter sweetness and everything in between, and knowing that they had not only made it out together but were still as close as they were back then, closer even, and that despite everything Hogwarts would always be there to welcome them home was all he needed.

The halls were just as Harry remembered it. This time tough, they brought back more than just their memories. They were mixed with several new anecdotes of the children and their escapades, with the three of them convincing themselves that they were definitely not hard teenagers while struggling to maintain straight faces. They had just entered the courtyard when they bumped into Neville.

“What are you guys doing here?” He asked, surprised.

“Oh, just, reminiscing.” Hermione said nonchalantly.

“By breaking into Hogwarts?”

“That’s the way we did it back then too, wasn’t it?” Harry grinned.

“How’d you know we broke in, by the way?”

“The Headmistress said the portraits said something about a secret passageway. I was just dropping off some forms for Hannah’s potions and said I’d check it out. Didn’t expect to see you guys.” Neville laughed.

“Oh, Happy Birthday, Harry!”

“You already wished me at midnight.” Harry said amused.

“Yeah, but I was knackered after the party. Can’t say I remember it.” The other man grinned.

“Particularly strong firewhiskey, mate. I had to take two doses of sobering potion in the morning.” Ron said sheepishly.

“You really shouldn’t have done that, Ron.” Hermione admonished.

“I know but...” Ron argued.

“Merlin! It’s like we’re really back at school again!” Neville exclaimed.

“Tell me about it.” Harry muttered, with an exasperated look at his best friends.

“Oi! We’re here to celebrate my birthday. You can have your weird foreplay after the party.”

“Ha ha, very funny.” Hermione rolled her eyes.

“He’s not wrong about the foreplay though.” Ron said, kissing her cheek.

“See what I have to suffer through?” Harry sighed to Neville.

“Like you haven’t done worse with my sister in front of me.” Ron said with a mock-glare.

“Why isn’t Ginny here, anyway?” Neville asked.

“She’s making the last minute party arrangements.” Hermione said.

“She’s going berserk trying to make it perfect.” Ron added.

“Funny she says it’s for me but threatens to hex me if I get five feet near the decorations. I’d have hidden in the attic with a butterbeer if she hadn’t invited the whole PU team.”

“Harry has a crush on their seeker.” Ron teased.

“Who doesn’t?” He shot back, knowing Ron had Quidditch Weekly articles stacked away in his trunk.

“Well, I’ve got to go. I’ll see you at the party.” Neville waved.

“Don’t rat us out, Neville. Or Hermione’ll have to stun you again.” Harry called, earning him a light shove from the brunette.

They made their way down to Hagrid’s hut and Harry was reminded of the many afternoons spent in a similar fashion.

“Looks like he’s not home.” Hermione said, noting the relative silence, that was only broken by a flutter of wings.

Harry whipped around to find Buckbeak standing there, looking at them curiously. He bowed and slowly egged his way closer to the majestic creature.

“Hey Buckbeak.” He said softly, petting the hippogriff. “Want to go for a fly? For old time’s sake?”

Harry turned around to find Ron sitting on Featherwhite, another hyppogriff, Luna had gifted to Hagrid, trying to get Hermione to get on as well.

“Come on, Hermione.” Harry called, mounting Buckbeak. “It’s my birthday.”

“There really should be a limited number of times you can use that to convince me.” She said, waving a finger at him but wearily got on behind Ron.

They took off and their laughter, and in Hermione’s case, shrieks, filled the air. Flying over the Quidditch Pitch, Harry promised himself to have a hippogriff race with Ginny as soon as they both had time.

They landed by the lake with Hermione swearing that she was never getting on one of those again.

“That’s what you said last time.” Harry reminded.

“And the time before that.” Ron added.

“And the time-”

“All right. All right.” Hermione laughed, shaking her head fondly.

They plopped down by the lake and watched the squid make a strange clapping motion with three of its tentacles.

“Even the squid’s wishing you a happy birthday.” Ron snorted.

“Even the squid wouldn’t believe a forty-year old could fly like that.” Harry boasted.

“Even the squid can’t handle two generations of Potters and Weasleys so close together.” Hermione said solemnly.

They chuckled and then descended into a comfortable silence, just enjoying the sunlight glinting over the still water. Harry thought back to the sunny days with Ginny in sixth year when the future he now had seemed like something out of a dream, and he realised that he was lucky, not just to alive but to be surrounded by the people he loved and who loved him.

A little while later, they strolled by the edge of the forest, talking about nothing and everything until they reached the whooping willow. Hermione was searching his face nervously while Ron casually suggested taking another exit. He knew they didn’t want to bring the mood down, especially on that day, and there might have been a time when he would have been too caught up in bad memories to even consider it. But now, all it reminded him was the thrill of flying a car to school in second year and the time he first met Sirius and the many, many, stories told by his kids. After all this time, he finally knew when and how to look for the silver lining until it outshone the black. They made their way out of the Shrieking Shack and walked towards the apparition point.

“That was...” Harry began.

“Oh, Harry! We’re so sorry if you didn’t like it. I just thought you would because you missed the field work so much and-”

“Hermione,” He cut her off. “It was amazing. The best birthday present I could ask for.”

“Don’t let Ginny hear you say that.” Ron interjected.

“Seriously, I loved it. I didn’t even know I needed it. Thank you.” He said, hugging her.

“A bit too sentimental, don’t you think?”

“Oh, get in here, Ron!” Hermione laughed as they pulled him into their embrace. It really was one of Harry’s best birthdays and it was only going to get better.

#happy birthday harry writing fest #harry potter #hermione granger #ron weasley #golden trio #post hogwarts #harry james potter #harry’s fortieth birthday #humour #romione #hinny

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noonmutter · 4 years

Text

Tottering

Everyone knows the first day is just the syllabus, anyway, right?

One of his wives had said that. He was pretty sure it was Pin, but Gods, he couldn’t remember. He was so tired. Leaving just after dawn like he had, he’d hoped to deal with introductions and some planning, and then have time for a nap.

But the first day had not, in fact, been the syllabus. The archdruids of the Dreamgrove had not gotten the memo about the syllabus. Leon felt this was terribly unfair.

They disagreed.

Strenuously.

After he had taken the time to explain why he’d felt it necessary to come back to the grove for guidance, and not simply ask for advice from home, his newest tutor had agreed with him that that was the right decision. It was about the only thing approximating a compliment that he received during daylight hours. The rest was a blur of dressing-down and critique that Leon struggled not to see as an attack. The kal’dorei fellow didn’t know him on a personal level, so it couldn’t be personal, and that was the mantra Leon had to recite to himself all day in order to endure.

He was required to prove he was not, in Master Cylan’s words, “completely remedial” before anyone could instruct him on the finer points of the Dream and walking it. He’d satisfied the master’s requirements for shifting between the forms quite easily, though not even the elf’s most stern hounding could convince him to take the stag form. They’d nearly come to blows over it before a tauren overseer intervened, but that had put a bit of a sour spin on an already frustrating morning.

Restoration magics were still not forthcoming to him, and the pitiful sparks he could summon under duress were the subject of much tutting and hemming from his tutor. He’d expected that, at least, so he minded it slightly less.

The same was true of calling upon the sun and the moon, though Cylan did acknowledge he at least had a passable grasp on moonfire, even if only while in the throes of rage. And then he’d told Leon he owed him a new pair of shoes, since Leon had burned them with it.

When night finally fell, Cylan was mercifully relieved, though to Leon’s (and, he suspected, Cylan’s) chagrin he was informed they would resume his tutelage together in the morning. In his place was a much more tolerable kal’dorei who introduced himself, rather than being introduced, as Bollad. Though Leon tried very hard to avoid making the specific comparison, the phrase ‘night and day’ did cross his mind several times while they conversed with one another. It became apparent why the two of them were able to address one another without butting heads together almost immediately: Bollad, like Leon, favored the feral disciplines and was to be his evaluator for the time being.

It had been made very clear that Leon was not in dire need of instruction, Bollad said, but of guidance, at least for now. When they knew just how well he could do what he did do well, they would be able to move forward.

And that was when the fun part stopped, and the work began, because Bollad too was a feral druid. Feral druids were not gentle pushovers; they were merely constantly measuring their emotional state, constantly refusing to give into rage and escalation, so that it might be channeled into a surgical strike when needed. Calling up that kind of bloodthirst at will required having the emotional reserves to do it; being a temperamental idiot all day was likened to being a horny teenager.

For Bollad, Leon was to hunt. But he wasn’t allowed to take the form they both favored, nor the worgen that would have helped even though Leon loathed it. He was to prove his understanding of his place in the cycle again, the way he’d had to do it the first time: he was to hunt by himself, with nothing but his senses and what he could find or make on his own. The closest Bollad came to teasing him was the comment, “I would also note no magic from the other disciplines, but as Cylan so loudly informed us all, that does not seem to be necessary.”

Though he was already worn from a day of little sleep and lots of embarrassment, running through the woods was as exhilarating as always, and it brought Leon the second wind he so desperately needed. He felt at home, though Val’Sharah’s trees were not his trees, and the grasses were not his grass, and the animals were not his animals. For a while, he simply ran, both to bring some peace to his overworked mind and to familiarize himself with the sounds in the leaves and the dirt under his feet, but Bollad scared the piss out of him at one point to remind him that he had a task to finish. Times like that reminded Leon just how big a druid’s bird form really was; the damn owl had exploded out of a bush and for a second he thought he was actually going to have to defend himself.

Dicking around came to an end after that. Allowing himself to settle into the reality that he did have something to prove, and unlike with Cylan, he actually wanted his new tutor’s approval, Leon got to work.

Bollad later told him he was pleased, but also that showing off was not necessary; there was no call for swiftness, only success, and Leon had downed a deer after about 45 minutes. Though he wouldn’t have been willing to do so in earshot of the others in the Grove, for Bollad he conceded that he hadn’t meant to show off, only to vent a great deal of stress and frustration. The last few months had been terribly unkind, even ignoring the world being wrong.

“But ah... if y’feel so inclined t’ tell th’others tha’ I did in fact show off...”

Bollad smirked. “I am not above bragging about my students, Initiate Ambroce.”

Leon liked Bollad.

He liked Bollad rather less when he ordered him not to sleep for more than four hours.

“But--”

“If you intend to journey into the Dream again, you will need to be receptive, in every possible way, to getting there.”

“Can’t I just--”

“If you cannot abide by this first simple instruction, and you intend to return to this grove fully rested on the morrow, then I advise you not return at all.”

“...kin y’at least point me in th’ direction o’ some decent coffee?”

“Bradensbrook seems like your best bet.”

Sigh. “On th’ morrow, shan’do.”

“Elune guide, thero’shan.”

I don’t even like coffee...

#leon #unbalanced #druid #wow #my writing

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ashintheairlikesnow · 4 years

Text

Disaster Lads: A Collab, Part One

This is part one of a five-part collab piece I did with @whumpiary! In which our disaster lads meet and the inevitable ensues.

CW: Referenced drugging, forced drinking, referenced past noncon, some dubcon fuckiness and trauma response headspace. Things get darker as we go, and more explicit, too. But also Kauri flirts and it’s adorable. Just a fair warning. I’ll do warnings for each individual chapter as we go.

Tagging Kauri’s crew: @maybeawhumpblog, @pepperonyscience, @haro-whumps, @18-toe-beans, @burtlederp, @finder-of-rings, @giggly-evil-puppy, @whimpers-and-whumpers, @moose-teeth, @whump-it, @lumpofwhump, @pumpkinthefangirl, @spiffythespook, @slaintetowhump, @astrobly

Kauri isn’t entirely sure how it happened, but somehow his back is against a wall, a drink is in his hand, and there’s a man leaning over him with that grin on his face that Kauri usually likes… but today, he doesn’t.

The bar is kind of dark, and there’s a band playing something that mostly sounds like sad yelling over geese honking to Kauri, but everyone had cheered when the band came onstage so maybe he just doesn’t get the music. He’s not even dressed for the bar, honestly - he’s in his big black zip-up sweatshirt, Dustin’s so it hangs off his shoulders and his hands are mostly covered by the sleeves. A thin thrift-store t-shirt and ripped-up black skinny jeans, the faded old checkered slip-on sneakers he’s had forever… he looks halfway homeless.

The guy has him cornered anyway, and Kauri is feeling all the other drinks he’s let guys buy him tonight, kind of spinning and silly with the alcohol in his veins. It makes it easier not to feel uncomfortable, but part of him is.

He wants to say no, but the word sticks in his throat.

“Come on,” The guy says, leaning over him - it feels like looming - and pushing even closer into his space. “I bought you the drink, the least you could do is a little something for me in return.”

I don’t want to, Kauri thinks in something like a panicked wail.

The man’s knuckles brush the side of his throat and it’s probably a flirtation but Kauri thinks of Owen’s hands around his neck - it feels like a threat.

“Wh-what… what did you have in mind?” Kauri’s voice is airy, a little breathless. His heart is pounding, his face is flushed, and maybe he looks into this… but he’s not. But it kind of seems like the guy maybe knows and doesn’t care.

“A lot of shit, honestly, you’ve been on my radar a while, but first… let’s start with you finishing that drink.” He reaches out and takes the glass out of Kauri’s hand, raising it to his lips. The first sip of syrupy-sweet cocktail seems more like liquid ash on Kauri’s tongue. “You’re a pretty cute drunk.”

“Am… am I?” He asks when the man lets him stop drinking. “I, I don’t want-”

“Have another drink,” The man interrupts, and pushes the rim of the glass against his lips again.

Cass had been watching the guy with the curly hair and the cute smile on and off all night. Partly because he's pretty. Partly because he looks like he’s dressed for a soup kitchen rather than a bar. But mostly because he looks familiar. Annoyingly familiar, in a way that’s maybe more significant than ‘hey didn’t we fuck in a bathroom stall one time?’.

The girl Cass has been chatting to is very, very, very boring. Stupidly boring. So it’s ridiculously easy to focus his attention just over her shoulder at Curly Hair and the guy who’s got him pressed against the wall in the corner, and the pink drink that’s being held up between them, fed to the shorter of the two like it's the holy fucking grail.

Desires are sticky. Syrupy. And in a bar like this, with music like this, with people like this, revulsion is bitter and obvious. Like whiskey in apple juice. Like smoke under perfume.

Cass wishes he'd had more to drink. A couple more vodka tonics and he'd probably refuse to give a shit. But he's annoyingly sober, and he can't help but notice Curly Hair sort of glance around, looking for an exit that doesn't exist.

Cass watches as he smiles, tilts his head. Cass' stomach lurches. He's seen that head tilt. Fuck, Cass has given that head tilt. I want you to want me but I don't want this.

“Hey Kirsty," he says, serving a grin to the blonde next to him. She frowns.

“It’s Kristie.”

“Right. Kristie,” Cass says. Easy smile, a finger tracing circles on the back of her hand. “You wanna go dance? I’ll catch up in a sec”

The girl pouts, grabbing his hand, “Aren’t you gonna come? I kinda thou-”

“Kʀɪsᴛɪᴇ, ɢᴏ ᴅᴀɴᴄᴇ.”

The girl's frown melts into a grin faster than she can notice what’s happening and nods her head enthusiastically, like dancing had been her idea in the first place. And then she’s gone, melted into the pulsing mass of bodies.

Cass needs to get out of here. In a bar like this, with music like this, with people like this, the feeling of I don’t want this is so loud and grating it makes Cass’ heart catch in his throat. And then there’s the other guy. Cass can feel the fucking lust pouring off of the guy. Not just the desire for an easy lay but the absolute exhilaration of a predator who’s got dinner trapped. Or is about to, Cass thinks, eyes following the asshole’s gaze to where they're fixated on a sickening cocktail he’s feeding the smaller guy.

Cass pushes himself away from the bar. He needs to get out of here. He needs to get out of here before he does something stupid because he promised Lou he wouldn't pick anymore fights and because this is none of his business and just because the guy seems familiar doesn't mean Cass knows him but he still finds himself snaking to the corner, anyway, grabbing the tall guy by the elbow-

“Hey, do I know you from somewhere?” he says, feigning rapt enthusiasm.

The taller guy looks Cass up and down. His hair is annoyingly perfect. Like if you tapped it, maybe it'd make a sound like knocking on hard plastic.

“I don’t think so,” the guy says, shark teeth twisted into a grin. Cass watches as his grip tightens minutely on the glass he’s holding. Yeah, fuckhead. Wouldn’t want to lose that, now would we? “If you don’t mind, we’re kinda busy.”

And he's turning back to Curly Hair, who is melting into the wall, a skittish mess of maybe he’ll talk to the new guy - if it’s what you want then I want it - I don't want this - just say no kauri you can just say no - I want this I want you - just say no stop it stop - no just drink it don’t make him mad - I don't want this and Cass really fucking wishes he'd had another few drinks because then he could just walk away, but instead he hits the cocktail careening out of Tall Guy's hand, a spectacular pink mess over the guy's crisp white shit.

Kauri flinches back, hands up over his mouth, staring wide-eyed at the mess.

"Shit, dude. Sorry. I'm such a klutz," Cass grins, holding up innocent hands with a shrug. "That roofie wasn't expensive or anything, was it?"

And sure, maybe this was none of his business, but it's so satisfying when the guy shoves him into the wall. Maybe even more satisfying than the sound of the crunch of the guy's nose breaking as Cass headbutts him in the face.

The guy stumbles back, hands over his nose as blood starts to pour, screaming half-formed curse words that are muffled by his hand and the nasal sound of his voice. From behind the bar, a bartender yells, “God damn it, no fighting! What the fuck, Kauri?!”

Kauri curls back against the wall, his wide, frightened eyes going from the bloody pink-stained man to the new guy who had hit him with his whole entire head and back again. “I’m sorry!” He shouts back to the bartender. “I’m sorry I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”

“Yeah, well, do something about it!”

Kauri gives the bartender a look of incredulous terror. He’s 5’7” and all lithe, willowy flexibility and he has the brute fighting strength of a very small kitten.

“Like what, exactly?!”

The guy drops his hand - the bottom half of his face is a mess of blood now - and with a snarl, pulls his fist back to punch Cass again.

“Stop them fighting over your dumb hot ass or I’m calling the cops, Kauri!”

The name sticks in Cass' head as he lets the guy land another punch, hard on his cheek.

"Kᴀᴜʀɪ, ɢʀᴀʙ ʜɪs ᴀʀᴍ," he says, on impulse, because the guy is kinda huge and Cass isn’t particularly strong, and he’s been in plenty of fights but he usually only stops them by not really being conscious anymore.

Kauri’s hands snap out thoughtlessly, grabbing the guy’s other arm and helping Cass shove him face-first against the wall, only to freeze up, eyes widening even more in terror as he has no idea why he just did that.

"You better calm the fuck down, man," Cass says, twisting the guy’s wrist so it twinges just a little behind him. He feels amped up and shaky with adrenaline. He hopes he looks as feral as he feels. The big guy blinks, slow and stupid as he tries to catch up with what just happened. "'Cause either I'm gonna kill you or the bar staff are gonna call the cops on your ass. And we both know what they're gonna find in that glass.”

The guy's eyes widen in shock, then narrow. “You can’t prove-”

“You roofied me?” Kauri asks, as though the multiple comments Cass had made had only just sunk into his mind. He felt himself reel with horror, trying to pull away, but his hands just… don’t want to let go of the man’s arm. Panic was a drumbeat in his mind. He knows what roofies are, Nat told him about those, and that they taste kind of salty but there was a salt rim on the drink the guy bought him-

“You were going to roofie me?”

“That jackass broke my nose!” The guy yells, although it comes out more like dat jackash boke by dose. Cass kind of wants to interject that he probably didn't break the guys nose, but it doesn't really seem like the time. “I’ve been talking to you all night and you just believe some asshole that walks up and punches a stranger?”

“I… I…” Kauri cringes back from the fury in the man’s voice. He’s going to be hurt, and he’s terrified, and the only thing on earth he wants right now is to get out of here and away before the man’s hands are around his neck just like Owen’s, it’ll be like that, he’ll hurt and hurt and then pass out and if he can just maybe make nice the guy will stop being angry-

“I, I’m sorry, you-... you did buy me the drink, that was… that was nice… but, but if he saw you-"

"He didn't see shit."

The guy did not seem to realize that that wasn't exactly denying he'd done it.

Cass feels cold fury run through him. He can feel the lust-turned-sour, good-night-wasted annoyance that the guy in front of him is vibrating with. And the panic pouring off of Kauri, so palpable and crystalline it may as well be his own. The want to run away, to get out of here, to back down, to apologise, make nice. They mingle together in his head.

Who the fuck tries makes nice with the asshole who was gonna drug them? He tries to ignore the ‘you sure used to’ that creeps into his head.

Cass doesn't care. He wants to run away and he wants to get out of here but more than that he wants to make someone bleed. This guy walked into the bar tonight, sought out the most vulnerable guy he could find and thought prey. He deserves to know what that feels like. He flips the guy around, pressing a hard hand to his chest to keep him flush to the wall.

“I think I’m gonna call you Scooter,” Cass says “You look like a Scooter”

“The name’s Matt, jackass,” the guy growls. It takes way too much effort to pronounce the M. Cass grins. Matt, huh?

"Alright, Mᴀᴛᴛ. Tᴀᴋᴇ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇsᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ G ᴛʜᴀᴛ's ɪɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴘᴏᴄᴋᴇᴛ. Gɪᴠᴇ ᴜs ᴀ ʟᴏᴏᴋ,” he says. The guy blinks, reaches mindlessly into the pocket of the shitty jeans he’s wearing and pulls out a nondescript little bottle. Matt is staring at the drugs like he can’t imagine how they possibly got into his hand. Cass grins. It’s nice to stare at a predator and make them feel small. "I think he should have to drink it. What do you think, Kauri?"

"Jesus Christ," Matt says, nasally and strangled. "Why did... What the fuck, I should knock your teeth out!"

Kauri grabs the pill bottle out of his hand and tries, despite his hands shaking so badly the fucking bottle rattles, to look like he's reading, carefully keeping his eyes unfocused so they won't try to settle on or understand the letters. Kauri steps closer to them both, putting his hands up slowly, like a man being held hostage.

"Look, you guys, we can just… nobody has to fight," He says, pitching his voice lower, cocking his head just a little to the side. "The bouncers are gonna kick us all out in a second and, and I don't need-... We don't need that, right? Matt? We don't need to, to have anybody closer than this. Just us, right?"

His heart hammers, heartbeat so strong it's nearly knocking the breath out of him. His voice is airy, and soft, and just a little flirty under the fear.

You can fix this. No one calls the cops, no one tells, no one looks too close.

"You didn't n-need that, I'd have… have gone with you anyway, Matt…"

Kauri, you can't say yes if you don't know how to say no. He ignores Nat's strident voice in his head and slides just a little closer, the rise and fall of his chest and the whites around his eyes the only giveaway of his fear. He can see bouncers and he has to make this better before too many people are looking at them.

Matt snorts a kind of bitter, angry laughter, then winces as that burns his injured nose. "You would. The ones like you always do, right?"

Kauri freezes, all the color draining out of his face. The bottle of pills drops to the floor and rolls away, kicked by someone walking by and getting lost somewhere in the crowd. "What?"

"Tell your fucking White Knight to fuck off," Matt says reaching out to grab Kauri's left wrist. "Kauri Grant."

Cass doesn't have time to figure out why the fuck that name sounds so familiar. All he needs to know what's happening is in that look on Kauri's face. He's seen that look. God, he's given that look. Whoever Kauri Grant is, he needs to be the hell away from here. Now.

"Okay, seriously buddy, we don't want anymore trouble," he tries, taking a quick glance at the bouncers closing in behind them "How about you let this go and we do too?"

"I'm not letting go of shit," says Matt, with a smile full of blood. He has one hand locked over Kauri's wrist, pushing up against the leather bracelet there. "Do you have any idea how much this little whore is worth?"

Cass swings the punch before he even has the chance to think what that could mean. Which is maybe not a great move, actually, with bouncers headed their way and a bar full of patrons who are starting to look over. It's especially not a great move because Matt swivels, jerking out of the way, sending Cass' fist straight into the side of Kauri's skull.

Kauri's world crashes at the impact, stumbling back and falling hard onto his side on the floor, head bouncing against the sticky woodgrain, blinking against the black spots dancing in front of his eyes.

It doesn't stop the panic.

Kauri Grant Kauri Grant Kauri Grant

"Y-you can't," he tries, his voice sounding weird and off to his own ears, pushing himself up. "Can't, can't turn me in-"

"I wasn't going to, before that little shit showed up," Matt says with a nasty note of triumph in his voice, one Kauri knows too well. "The guy who just hit you."

Kauri manages to stand up, catching the bouncers too close, too close, and he grabs onto Cass's arm. "He was… was trying to hit you," Kauri says, voice shaking. "And you-... tried to drug me."

"Like no one's ever drugged you before," Matt sneers, and Kauri swallows, hard, and doesn't protest. Matt waves at the bouncers. "Hey! This is Kauri Grant!"

The frozen fear in Kauri thaws and he jerks at Cass's arm to yank him not towards the door but deeper into the bar, pushing through the crowd towards the other side of the stage.

Kauri Grant Kauri Grant Kauri Grant

Cass knows that name, why does he know that name?

It doesn't matter. What matters is they get the hell away from here right now. He turns in Kauri's grip to look over his shoulder, locks eyes with the asshole who seems intent on ruining this poor bastard's life.

"Mᴀᴛᴛ," he yells as he's hauled away into the crowd, "Sʜᴜᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀ ꜰᴜᴄᴋɪɴɢ ᴍᴏᴜᴛʜ."

It's not exactly elegant but Matt slams his jaw closed so hard Cass can see him wince against the jolt of pain through his bashed in face. Cass cackles as they disappear into the mass of bodies on the dancefloor.

He feels high. There's twin feelings gripping his chest, the thrill of a fight and the blinding panic of running away. The rush of beating someone at their own game twisted with the knowledge that they need to get the hell out of here before they're caught. He has no idea what's happening but it's fast and it's thrilling. It's making him dizzy, making his blood pump electric. He barks another laugh as he dodges some random guy's elbow, grips Kauri's hand even harder and lets himself be pulled.

"God, who the fuck is Kauri Grant?"

Kauri pulls him to a small door labeled EMPLOYEES ONLY just to the side of the stage, shoving it open and stumbling out into a dark alley, the sudden chill on his skin the only reason Kauri realizes he's sweating.

Out here the noise is gone, there's the sound of sirens far away, and Kauri's eyes dart around, thinking, before he pulls Cass to the right, further down the alley, stepping over refuse and empty beer bottles.

"I… I am," Kauri says, voice thin. The side door they just left opens and he pulls Cass quickly against the wall with him to hide behind a dumpster. "I'm Kauri Grant." He swallows hard, panic still beating at the back of his mind, and slowly slides down the wall to sitting, putting his head in his hands.

"You hit really hard for how skinny you are, d'you know that?"

Maybe it��s the sudden cold, or maybe it’s the way Kauri’s holding his head, but waves of exhaustion and regret and fear hit Cass all at once. He ducks down as voices and noise filter wide and loud, and then go squashed and muffled again with the swinging of the door.

“Fuck man, I’m so sorry,” he mutters, ducking his head to assess the damage. “I didn’t even think”

He reaches out a hand, pulls it back before contact. He really doesn’t know how to do this. The whole… God, what did Fuckhead McGee call it? The whole White Knight schtick. Is he meant to go find ice? Buy the guy a drink for his troubles? Usually when he finds himself kneeling on the wet concrete of an alley in front of a stranger it’s for a very different reason.

Cass sits back on his heels and laughs, loud and unabashed. He’d listened to that girl at the bar talk about her boyfriend for forty minutes when he should’ve been finding some pretty guy to sneak away with. And then he found a pretty guy and punched him in the face. Which… wasn’t always a dealbreaker, but even in the now relative quiet of the alley his heart is still slamming like there’s something to run away from and his brain feels cracked open and Jesus Christ, this night is already just so fucking dumb.

“Sorry. I’m sorry,” he says between giggles. He tries to calm it down to a grin. “I swear I’m not laughing at you, Kauri Grant. Did I, um…Is your head okay?”

"Yeah, my head's fine. I've been hit before," Kauri says, not quite muttering, rubbing his hand into his black curls. "Not usually in the head, but, you know, it's kinda empty anyway." He flashes a bright, deflecting smile, looking up at Cass.

Kauri's head cocks slightly to the side, something in his smile changing, softening a little. Not quite flirtation, something more in self-defense. "Can you just say Kauri, please? I don't, um, I don't like his name. Very much. It's just, that's what they call me…" His voice trails off. "Thanks for, um. For catching that guy… I didn't know he put something in it... I didn’t know he knew.”

Cass frowns a little, trying to understand. Didn’t know who knew what?

"Okay you have to back up, you're giving me more questions than… than answers right now..."

But then the pieces of Kauri he's seen through the night start falling together. The skittish eyes that didn't match with the flirting smile. Thanking the guy who would have happily held him limp in a basement. The wanting and wanting and wanting paired with the desperate need to run away.

The ones like you, that guy had said, looking at Kauri like he was something to be eaten. The ones like what? The ones who met conflict with apologies and desperate bids for distraction. His eyes flick to the bracelet on Kauri's wrist, thick and leather and out of place amongst the rest of his "robbed a Good Will" ensemble and too wide, really to be stylish. Just wide enough to hide a tattoo, maybe. Or a brand.

I don’t like his name very much. Cass feels himself paling.

"Oh my god, you're somebody's," he whispers. He closes his eyes and scrubs a hand over his face. Swallows the dry lump in his throat. "You're meant to belong to somebody."

Kauri jerks his arms back against himself, pulling the sleeve of his sweatshirt over the bracelet about ten minutes too late.

He looks up at Cass, blue eyes wide and pleading, and reaches out his hand to brush his fingers against Cass's hand, pitching his voice lower.

"You, you don't have to tell anyone. That I'm, um. You don't have to. I can… I can-" He has no idea how to say this. He focuses his thoughts on what he knows, falling back on training. I want this. I want you. I am an active participant in fulfilling my owner's desires.

"I can, um. Whatever you, you want, if you won't say you saw me?" His voice shakes - he can't seem to stop it. He has to hope it sounds like the good kind of nervous and not the terror he really feels.

Cass feels his stomach drop, something catching in his throat as fingers brush the back of his hand again. The tug and pull of I want this. The tilt of Kauri’s head is so tempting it looks rehearsed. I want you.

“That’s…” Kauri’s eyes are gorgeous — huge and blue and desperate — and Cass has to close his own just to think straight. “That’s not what… I, um.”

I want this. I want you. Resolute and relentless against his thoughts. I want this. I want you. Over and over and over again. Frenzied and pleading and wanting and fucking terrified. I want this. I want you.

Cass curls his fingers around Kauri’s, running his thumb along the other boy’s palm. I want this. I want you. Something in him feels shaken up and loose at the hinges from feeling it. It feels wrong. Too familiar, too close to home, too close to… something. Please let me want this. Please want me too.

Cass closes his eyes again, shakes his head. Maybe it’s just the after effects of being knocked crooked. Cass did punch the guy in the face. And it’s been kind of a fucked up fifteen minutes. Maybe they both just need the distraction. The relief of something simple and easy. And if they're both actively participating in something dumb and fun and stupid, maybe it’ll be enough to make them both feel better.

“Look, I’m not… I’m not gonna say anything,” he says, tugging Kauri’s hand closer, tracing a line up his arm. I want this. He smiles, let’s the pulse of it spur him on “We can just have fun, okay? I’m not gonna say anything”

Relief washes over Kauri, a wave of it that nearly knocks him over. He’s doing it right, his voice is right, all the training is working and letting him slide into an easier place in his head. His smile isn’t quite sincere and it doesn’t quite reach his eyes, but the relief in it is very real.

Besides, the guy is cute, and Kauri would’ve gone home with him, too.

The ones like you always do.

There’s an unease - he doesn’t always like that things like that are true, about him - and he chases it away by closing his eyes and focusing his thoughts. I want this, I want him - and that part definitely isn’t a lie - and I’ll be safe if I give him this.

“Okay, um, th-thanks,” He says, voice just a little breathy, ducking his head with another shy smile.”I’m, um, I’m up for basically anything, basically always.” He gives a cheeky little grin and a laugh, like that’s a joke he tells to a lot of people and has memorized the timing on. “Just, I’m not trained for-... I don’t go in for pain. That’s it. Hey, so, um, you know my name… what’s yours? So I know what to scream later.”

He’d heard that in a movie once and always kind of wanted to say it.

Cass laughs, broken harmony against Kauri's own. The line is lame but it doesn’t really matter. Kauri makes it charming. He is ridiculously good at this.

"Cass. But usually people just stick with ‘oh, God'," he laughs, moving in closer, grin against grin. He leans in to brush his lip against Kauri's jaw, slow and teasing, hands staying steady on the guy's knee as Kauri hitches in a breath and shivers, turning his head to give Cass a better angle for it. "And I go for anything."

He wants this. They both do. The relief of something familiar and safe. Just a minute of stupid normal. I want this. Cass plants a kiss at the corner of Kauri's jaw. I want him. Cass lets his hand slide from knee to thigh. I'll be safe if I give him this. Cass pulls himself closer in, brings his fingers up to tangle in the dark curls at the nape of Kauri’s neck and… and…

I'll be safe if I want this.

The wave of revulsion that runs through him is slow and sickly, like hot tar, like molasses. Familiar and foreign in the same mouthful.

"Sorry. I, uh," he pulls back and he can feel the ghost of Christopher's hands on his hips, pulling his hair back, lips against his cheek – Don't hesitate, darling boy. Show me what you want.

“Hey… you okay?” Kauri murmurs the words, and it’s with real concern, shivering at the feeling of Cass’s fingers in his hair, slipping his own hands to touch lightly at his ribs on either side, a question and a test.

Cass feels adrenaline gripping him but that's fine, that's good, because wanting and fear walk the same line anyway. I'm an active participant. Which doesn’t feel like the shape of a thought that’s his but is close enough to that it doesn’t matter. He wants this. It's safer to want it. Then you don't have to think. You don't have to feel. That's why places like this are fun, why nights like these are so good.

So like every other night like this, he pulls in close to prettiest guy in the bar, pushes down the resistance in himself, and kisses him fucking senseless.

Kauri’s head tilts back and up for it, twisting his fingers hard into Cass’s shirt to pull him in even closer, until his head bumps back into the wall behind him and he loses his balance, falling back to sitting on the ground with a soft, sweet little laugh, a breath of air before he lets Cass kiss him mindless again.

The safest he’s felt for weeks is times like this, a man’s hands on him, a man’s mouth on his, knowledge and certainty that someone wants him, that he has something to give other people, some way to earn their kindness and repay it. His hands slide up Cass’s neck to tangle in his hair, too, pulling him in as close as he can get on the ground in a dark alley, skin lighting up everywhere they touch.

“H-hey, I can’t, ah-...” He breaks free, and flashes the shy little smile again. He feels so good now, safer, because he’ll be good and he knows Cass meant it when he said he wouldn’t tell, he looks like someone who won’t tell anyone, and Kauri has to trust him. “I don’t… I’m technically homeless. So if you think I’m taking you home, uh… welcome to my house, I guess,” He says, gesturing at the alley around them and then laughing a little to himself.

He’s gotten himself this far, but there’s still a hint of the artificial conditioning twining all his conscious thoughts. I want this is real and true but it’s also what he knows how to say, and I’m safer if I want it, I matter if someone wants me and I want to matter to someone runs under honest desire as he moves to slip his hand up under Cass’s shirt.

“H-how do you, how do you want to… um… this?”

Cass practically vibrates at Kauri's touch and he leans in even closer. Every touch is a relief. His body has been begging for this, for touch, all week

"Well I'd say we could go back to mine but…" Cass thinks of white walls, screaming fluorescents. His tiny quarters with the single bed and the sliding door that Tucker swans in and out of as he pleases. "Mine's not really much of a house either. So I guess we'll just get creative at yours"

He catches Kauri's lips again and pulls himself in closer until he's all but straddling the guy's lap. Kauri moves his body against Cass's like he was custom made for it. He lets his hand come to a gentle rest on the column of the guy's throat, his thumb tracing the line from his chin to his collar and back up again.

This is all Cass has wanted all week. To wrap himself in someone else's wants and just disappear for a bit. And yeah, maybe it feels a little off tonight. A little sickly. Like eating overripe fruit. But it's also been a long time since he's been this close to sober and trying to hook up with someone so who the fuck knows.

"Gotta say, I love what you've done to the place," he adds, breaking the kiss with a grin as he glances around at their elegant surroundings. Kauri laughs, almost a breathless giggle, glad he’s found someone with a real sense of humor even if it’s to keep him from telling anyone who he’s seen. Cass brings his lips to Kauris throat and let's his voice buzz electric along his jugular "I usually swoon for just one dumpster but three? You're such a romantic."

Kauri tips his head back against the wall behind him, staring up into the flat, featureless sky. As soon as Cass says the word Romantic, though, he goes perfectly still. Every muscle tense, for just a second it’s closer to holding a frightened animal than a person.

“Uh, th-thanks,” He manages, shakily, pushing the nerves back down. Just another way to call him a slut, like everyone else does, but he’ll do what he wants and be safer that way. It doesn’t matter if he calls Kauri a whore or a slut or a Romantic, it all means the same thing - people like him. People who can’t stop themselves, who don’t know better, who are nothing and no one unless somebody is touching them.

Cass is nice, and his hands and his mouth feel so good, and it doesn’t matter what he calls Kauri. What matters is giving him what he wants.

He makes himself relax, consciously, and slides his hands around behind Cass, shifting his hips up, letting training take over again until the nervousness could die back down. I matter if someone wants me, it doesn’t matter why or how, I’m safe if I want this.

“If you want, I could, um, could g-go down on you,” Kauri breathes, rolling his hips up.

Cass feels himself grinning at the same moment as he feels his stomach clench in a knot so tight he can hardly breathe. Wanting and fear walk the same line. The latter is easy enough to ignore.

"Fuck yes," he all but moans, swinging his leg around to sit against the wall beside Kauri. Cass fumbles for the button of his jeans. He wants this. Kauri does too. Cass can feel how much he wants this. Kauri wants to feel safe. He wants Kauri to feel safe. And he also wants his brain to shut off and stop screaming discomfort just because the water’s a little muddy.

It doesn't matter if he wants it because it's gonna feel so good once it's happening he won't even care. And then he'll make Kauri feel so good, Kauri won't care either. He won't care about being wanted. He won't care about being safe because Cass will make him feel fucking fantastic.

And all of that would’ve been fine if Cass didn’t look up and catch Kauri’s eyes. He feels the knot in his stomach twist. In less than a second any spark of libido he had had rots and dies. There’s no want in Kauri's eyes. No nervous excitement. It’s not eagerness that’s pulling their bodies in close.

Desperation and terror were just one hell of a cocktail. Especially when finished off with resignation.

Cass closes his eyes and let's his head fall against the wall with a dull thunk.

“No,” he whispers. “No, hold on, stop.”

He really wishes he'd had some ket. Or at least a bit of molly. Just something to blunt the edges of whatever the fuck is happening right now. Something is wrong with him.

"I can't do this," he murmurs, shaking his head. He doesn't open his eyes. "Something's wrong, I can't do this. You don't… you don’t..."

Kauri’s hands are still tangled in Cass’s shirt at first, and he slowly pulls them back, worried, leaning forwards to try and tilt his head and look closer at Cass’s face. No no no no. He’s done something wrong. He doesn’t know what, or how - it had seemed right, like it was all happening the way it was supposed to and soon enough he’d forget to be scared and just feel good things until it was done, and if it was good enough Cass wouldn’t tell anybody about him in case maybe he saw him again.

That’s how it works. Kauri gives, and he gets safety in return. But this isn’t safe.

You don’t even know if you actually want it or if you just think that because they made you. It’s what he thinks the end of that sentence probably is, because it’s what Dustin said when Kauri tried, and it’s what Jake said, and it’s what everyone tells him over and over again. That he can’t even know what he wants, because Owen wanted him brainless and a slut.

“I’m sorry, is it… something I’ve done?”

Cass scoffs a laugh, knocking the back of his head into the brick wall to try and shake his thoughts back straight. What the fuck is he meant to say? Sorry bro, my telepathy killed the mood.

“No,” he says, scrubbing a hand over his face “No you didn’t do anything, you just… you’re just-”

You’re just too fucking close to my kind of broken.

There’s a harsh sort of panic bouncing off of Kauri in waves at the rejection. What the fuck is Cass meant to do though? He can’t pretend like everything’s fine because it’s not. He can’t tell him to piss off because then he’d really be an asshole. He can’t fuck him because it’d be… that’d be...

Cass’ stomach lurches. He slams his hands down against the concrete with a growl, kicks at an empty bottle by his leg. It scrapes harsh against the ground in a loud, grating circle and Cass flinches his foot back like it cut him.

“Jesus Christ, this is fucked,” he says, laughter twisting his voice and making it bitter. He looks over at the person who pulled him out of a bar fight ten minutes ago. This random person who he'd started a bar fight for fifteen minutes ago. This random fucking person he shouldn't give two shits about. Cass shakes his head, "You don't wanna be here, man. Just go home."

Kauri snorts, almost bitterly. “I can’t, remember? I don’t fucking have one. Although I guess I could go sit on the bus…” He sighs, watching Cass - and he’s not always good at reading people’s intentions, but he can read emotions fairly well and he can see that Cass looks nearly sick, either angry or upset, and he just takes in a deep breath, putting his hands up over his face and then down again.

“No, I get it. It’s because I’m a pet, right? It’s, you wanted to see what it’s like with a pet. You saw me with that guy and knew, and you thought you’d try, too, and you can’t… don’t want to, once I’m really here.”

Cass is shaking his head before Kauri even finishes speaking. Who calls themself a fucking pet?

"What the fuck? No. Jesus Christ, no," he screws his face up, rakes his hand through his hair.

Cass can feel something volcanic starting to bubble up inside of him.

He had done everything right tonight. He hadn't had too much to drink. He'd helped some random guy in trouble just because it was the right thing to do. He'd taken Kauri’s lead and then he'd read the warning signs and he'd stopped. He’d fucking stopped. How was he still the bad guy?

"No fucking way are you putting that bullshit on me," he spits. "You're the one who pulled me out here. I was just trying to help. You don't know what you want, then don't fuck with people's heads!"

“Fuck with people’s-” Kauri’s own voice edges with real anger. “I didn’t fuck with anybody’s head! I just, this guy hit on me and bought me a drink, and you showed up and said it was drugged! I didn’t do anything wrong, people talk about wanting to try out pets all the time, I-”

He catches himself, cutting off his own voice all at once like turning off a radio. No no no, if you make him mad he’ll tell someone or he’ll get really really mad or…

Kauri looks away, down at the alleyway pavement, scraping at it lightly with one shoe. “... I’m sorry, I shouldn’t get angry. You were really trying to help, and, and that was really nice of you, to do that. I was just trying to, to pay you back, I guess? Besides, you’re… really fucking cute, so…”

It's the exact same trick he'd tried on the guy inside, Cass realises. Make nice with the wolf and hope that it'll be kind when it eats you alive. It's too familiar and too close and aimed at him and Cass wants to retch. It's burnt sugar disgusting. The desperate need to stay safe, to keep everything calm. No matter the cost. No matter what you give away.

"See, that is exactly what I fucking mean. Two seconds ago you were so mad at me you were basically screaming and now you're apologising and telling me I'm cute just so I'll..."

Cass breaks off, shakes his head, staring up at the hazy not-black of city sky at night. He shoves away the twin claws of rage and confusion as he meets Kauri’s eyes again, tries to keep his voice even and something close to calm.

"Look, I'm not- I'm not gonna say anything, alright? Whatever your deal is, I'm not gonna tell the cops or whatever" Cass tries for a smile "Trust me, I'd be just as fucked."

“Would you really?” Kauri blinks at him, no sign of that earlier flash of anger left, either in his posture or in his expression. He’d done what he’s best at, when it comes to being mad - just pushed it down until he didn’t feel it any longer, and he could see things from the other person’s point of view. Like understanding that Owen was mad because he’d tried to talk to someone when he wasn’t allowed, and that Dustin was mad because Kauri wanted more than he was willing to give, and the way everyone was mad that he wouldn’t sit still.

“And thanks. I won’t tell you what the reward for ‘information regarding my whereabouts’ is, though, if it’s all the same to you.” He tries for a small, slightly sidelong smile, more sincere than his last attempt had been. “Are you a runaway, too? Is there a reward out for you?”

Cass only barely stops himself from balking at the remark. Kauri says it so casually, like having a price on your head is just an everyday annoyance they might be able to bond over. Just all in a day. “Uh… no. No, there isn’t. I would just…” I would just have my contract re-assessed. Risk having my indenture reset. End up permanently locked in the lab. Or back in Christopher’s den. “My, uh, employer wouldn’t be very impressed if you get what I’m saying”

He adjusts his grip on his arm subconsciously, thumb running over the scar that sits along his inner arm. He’s always sort of wondered if one of Tucker’s little chips is there, just sitting by his radial bone, too close to the artery to risk cutting out himself. Guess he’ll never know.

He snaps his attention back to Kauri. Matches the guy’s smile with his own.

“But a reward, huh? Fuck man.” he says. A lofty one at that, apparently. Kauri Grant. Maybe that’s why the name was familiar. He would’ve seen it on the TV or something. Jesus, he’d had to help the one fuckin’ guy with a more tragic backstory than him. He laughs a little, like this is just some sort of watercooler gossip. Mondays, huh? “What did you do, kill your keeper?”

"My, um, my owner. And… no, I-I couldn't-" Kauri's eyes widen with real horror at the thought. "No, I would never have… um, he was, wasn't always that bad… I probably, I just-... I mean I did fuck up, but I didn't hurt anybody."

He looks away from Cass, a little uncomfortably, and says, "He, uh. Got mad when I fucked up. He broke a promise, and I… left. I guess you'd see it eventually, since there's no way I wasn't gonna take my shirt off for you."

He pulls down on the stretched-out neckline of his shirt, and even in the dim alley, a bit of a large, twisted scar shows over his collarbone.

"He paid a lot of money for, for me. I wasn't supposed to be able to leave. I took out the thing he put in to control me."

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kvella · 4 years

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Port in the Storm - Prologue (Josephine x Cullen)

A mead fueled tryst brings the Inquisition’s Ambassador and Commander together one night, but responsibility and miscommunication keeps them apart. When they’re assigned to build a memorial for Haven, will they find their way through the chaos or say turn away from each other forever?

Read on ao3

Prologue

Josephine and Cullen call a stalemate and have a mead-fueled encounter.

To find the Ambassador and the Commander at the Haven tavern was unusual, if not unheard of.

On this particular evening, the advisors had an unexpectedly light workload on their hands, the Herald being off in the Hinterlands to track down a potential Warden ally. Setting aside that they were what Josephine graciously liked to call “very different people” on a good day, she and Cullen had spent the better part of the afternoon bickering over the weathered maps of the war table. As the first dinner bell rang, Leliana excused herself, tired of the stubbornness and sniping and impatient to return to her work.

Embracing the rare opportunity for a free night, they declared a stalemate on the appropriate way to acquire resources - “just for the evening,” she jested - and found themselves taking in the ambiance of the local pub. It must have been something about the candle light or the dulcet melody of the flute, but as the sky fell dark, their words grew unmistakably flirtatious . One glass led to another, led to one glass of sweet honeyed mead too many and a surprisingly handsy, stumbling stroll back to the Chantry.

It’s hard to say who initiated, who pulled whom behind the Chargers’ tent but suddenly they were intertwined with arms around necks and hips, mouths dancing across each other’s cheeks and lips and chins. They parted, chuckling at the absurdity of the moment and the warmth of the mead bright and high in their cheeks and the crisp, snowy air nipping at their skin.

Pulling open the heavy Chantry door, Cullen grabbed Josephine’s hand boldly, but the gentleness with which he whispered “Is this okay?” melted her heart. Breathlessly, she whispered “yes” and he led her down the hall, a half-step ahead of her. Both were exhilarated by the openness with which they cavorted, regardless of the scarcity of people around at this time of night. They practically scampered down the hall to the bedroom in the far back, a strange youthful giddiness between them, so unlike either’s usual demeanor.

Cullen went first, opening the door to the room and heading inside. As she stepped in, Josephine caught a glance of Vivienne’s narrowed eye down the hall, felt the distinctive sense of judgement dripping from her eyes, high, mighty, and filing this sight away for her personal chess game. Deciding to ignore the opinions of others for once in her life, she raised her chin defiantly and followed him inside. No one else was around the Chantry at the late hour, and their good spirits and libidinous energy bounced off the stone walls.

She scanned the sparse room quickly, though she knew they were alone. To the left, Cassandra’s bed lay untouched. The Seeker had been away for weeks. A rather large tome sat on the table next to a candle that was burnt so low it may never light again. In the back, Josephine’s lived-in bed - made, but not fussily so, not when there are so many more important things to do than have a crisply folded sheet. Her lute sat dusty near her nightstand, an admittedly frivolous item to bring to a war, despite best intentions of putting her past as a bard towards morale and raised spirits. And on the right, Cullen’s bed, a Templar bed if she’d ever seen one. Regulation corners and all.

Cullen pulled her to him by the waist, kissed her hard, seemed to find a renewed sense of purpose in the privacy of their room. The fur of his mantle tickled against her neck. “Do you know,” he asked between fervent kisses, “I have thought about this every day since you moved into this room?”

A good, pious Chantry boy thinking about kissing her with all the passion of a sinner under this holy roof, every damn day. The thought made her knees weak. She moaned lightly against his lips. Filled with confidence, she walked him back against his bed, toppling him down atop the tautly pulled linens.

Desire rested deep in her belly, a sensation she hadn’t entertained for anyone in years. He fiddled with the satin buttons at her throat, jangling her heavy necklace back and forth against her collarbones. She leaned back, trying to give him space to work, fingers making waves through his carefully combed hair. Satisfied with the amount of flesh he’d exposed, he rose to her neck - the feeling of his smooth lips and stubble brushing against her throat was divine and she closed her eyes to savor it. Quickly, a brief flash in the theater of her mind: Vivienne and her haughty sideways glance. The Herald and Cassandra recruiting forces off in the Hinterlands. The bright emerald gashes tearing apart the sky.

A pang of panic struck her heart. Lifting her bejeweled hands to gently cup his face, she kissed him deeply, slowly. His stubble was rough against the pads of her fingers. She wanted to go further, wanted to be closer and closer, truly couldn’t believe she was about to say this until she felt the unfortunate words tumble out of her mouth like marbles.

“We should stop.”

He ceased instantly, removed his hands from her as if commanded by the Maker himself. “Okay.” His amber eyes were smoky, lips swollen and pink and thoroughly kissed. He was so beautiful that, for a brief moment, she reconsidered. "Why?" He asked, regaining composure.

She crawled off of him, settled on her knees at the foot of his bed. A cloud of disappointment floating around her hung head. He propped himself up on his elbows, catching his breath, and let his head roll back in thought, probably some frustration. She couldn’t fault him for that - her body ached for him, but her mind knew how these things tend to go. The mead was in her cheeks, hot and hazy, and his hands had mussed soft wisps of hair around her face, a golden halo illuminated by the fire.

Softly, carefully, she said, “It is not that I do not want this. In fact, I have thought of it...quite often. But…” She paused, dropped her voice to a whisper as if she was not certain that what she was about to say was a good choice. “I do not want just one night. And to become entangled right now with so much at stake...it is a fool’s errand, is it not?”

He sat up, eyes shut tight and brow furrowed in deliberation. She tried not to look at him, hope churning in her gut that he’d quell her fears or try to convince her otherwise or at least tell her he felt the same. Instead he responded, “You are right.”

It was quiet for a moment, only the crackling of the fire and the tension of disappointment to sooth them as they contemplated the many boundaries they had crossed together. Josephine felt a fire stirring in her veins. This man who rarely backs down, let alone to her, had simply caved to her concern without a single protestation.

She couldn’t help herself, and picked the fight anyway. “That’s it? That’s all you have to say? When do you ever agree with me?” It came out sharper than intended, but she didn’t try to soften it with more words.

Abruptly, Cullen stood, walked over to the small table near the fireplace. The sound of water pouring into glasses was nearly ear-splitting in the silence of their choice. “I don’t know how I am meant to share a bedroom with you when I know what you feel like against me, Josie,” he said remorsefully, offering her the glass. Eyes wide, she took it with bated breath. ”But I know that you’re right - were we to continue, I am certain I would have no choice but to stay entangled.”

He leaned back against the fireplace, casually, and sipped the water. She stared at him, a mad kind of anticipation in her eyes. The words hit her ears, white hot. They sounded to her like something of a promise.

________________________________________________________________

I’ve been working on this story since July this year and it’s been so fun! I know this is not the most popular couple (join me in rarepair hell), but I have a soft spot for the Ambassador/General opposites attract dynamic. This story is up to chapter 8 on ao3, but figured I’d post it on here too! I’ve been a Bioware/DA fan since the beginning, but I’m new to tumblr (how did I make it to 27 without having a tumblr??) and want to make friends lol Hope you enjoy! :)

#dragon age #dragon age inquisition #josephine x cullen #josephine montilyet #cullen rutherford #dragon age fanfic #dragon age fanfiction #fanfic #ust #cullephine #rarepair hell #opposites attract

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wastrelwoods · 4 years

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for the character ask gimme a kristen applebees

AHHH west. YES. YEAH

why i like them:

sarah was initially getting me into this series and i was like. you know i don’t really do this whole kinnie thing and she was like. well you’re going to kin kristen applebees i’ll tell you that much. and she’s never been wrong in her life so i guess i do!

why i don’t:

OH those first few episodes were rough!! ROUGH! the gal rly hits so close to home and that’s it’s own kind of hard to deal with. but i do appreciate it if only bc it’s so much fun to see her progress from there

favorite episode (so far):

i’m only abt 2/3 of the way through freshman year but i can’t decide if i love more when she meets tracker at the black pit or when she gets actually wasted on like. one beer at ostentatia’s house party and makes out with a cheerleader who is CLEARLY and OBVIOUSLY a construct and not a living woman

favorite season:

not rly applicable because i haven’t finished season 1 yet but like! ask me again later i guess!!

favorite line:

FUCK. OH MY GOD. when tracker kisses her and she blurts out, “I actually, uh, I don’t kiss!!” in a lesbian panic. have not gotten over that that’s SO good

favorite outfit:

that’s not fair to her bc as far as i know she only has one. six variations of the same tie dyed summer camp t shirt...and she wears them so well bless her heart. anyway kristen applebees prom suit when

otp:

sjkflg i mean it seems like she’s got a nice canon thing going but i also wouldn’t mind her with either of the other bad kids girls. i have baby gay energies to project onto all3 of those ladies in any combination at all and i am NOT picky about it

brotp:

oh geez well! kristen and fig!! at this current moment i am experiencing the exhilaration of those two being on-and-off roommates and just. tormenting gilear and every other unlucky son of a bitch in the apartment complex. also i think fig should give kristen an undercut and a stick and poke. fuck i should draw that

headcanon:

i mean i almost can’t project anything on her she’s got it all already but i guess i can go for like....hmmmm....has never worn makeup in her life and does not know how to apply it. which end of a mascara wand is up? she doesn’t know. that might be basically canon

ohhhh god also she and fabian are the same height and she could lift him. i want to doublecheck their stats to see if this checks out but i am, once again, only midway through the first season and i will NOT be spoilt

unpopular opinion:

oh i don’t know any of the relevant opinions and frankly i’m not sure i want to...god i hope nobody baselessly hates her and thinks she’s annoying i would be Hurt

a wish:

i feel like much of what i want for her CLEARLY happens later on in this campaign and i will be very satisfied when i get there but just. excited to see it

an oh-god-please-don’t-ever-happen:

she becomes femme

5 words to best describe them:

UHHHHHHHH fuck i don’t know i feel like i’m so early days!!! but just. my exact high school experience give or take a few fights to the death

my nickname for them:

i feel like kris works. i manifest that. someone refer to her as kris

#fantasy high #ask game!#pigeon post

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senadimell · 4 years

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Characters I like AKA ‘hurt face’ master post

The characters I like in movies and books are distinctly different. With books, I have all sorts of favorite characters, and I love that I know what they’re thinking. I just love a good deep third or first person.

In contrast to books, there’s just something different about movies. We’re watching actors, and the visual component really dictates how I interact with film. I can get over a bad storyline if the emotional journey I’m watching looks real.

When I’m watching a movie, I will almost always fall for lonely characters played by actors who can clearly express pain and sadness. Bonus points for guilt, insecurity, and a history of rejection. I will like them even if they’re not likable, or kind, or nice, or even good. They are visually compelling. Of course, I’ll love them even more if the backstory actually backs up why they’re in pain, and gives me a reason I shouldn’t dislike them beyond “they emote so pretty.” Experience with high school theatre productions has taught me there’s so much more to anger than volume, and so much more to sadness than tears; I’m in awe of actors who can communicate those emotions with subtlety and/or clarity.

So in real life, most of us aren’t that good at communicating with our faces, are we? For me, anyways, it’s hard to distinguish between tired, angry, or annoyed. When someone’s in pain or hurting, they rarely just look sad. Life’s not like a movie, when a good actor can show you exactly how a character feels without saying anything at all. I’m not so good at telling what people are thinking and often assume that that people are mad (and that they’re mad at me), when in reality I think pain must be more common. Most peole think of actors as imitating real people. I think they have to do more: they have to be expressive, and yet have it come off as genuine, so that we don’t even see the face but the character.

I only just figured out why it was that when Frozen came out, I was obsessed with it. The story itself leaves a lot to be desired, but I was willing to excuse that. My phone was full of pictures of Elsa, but most of them were stills from the movie rather than fan art. I had pictures of almost every face Elsa makes in Let it Go, when she just looks exhilarated and like she can’t believe how happy she feels. I also had every frame from when she hugs frozen Anna (pictured below). It was the first time I’d really seen an animated character visibly express insecurity, loneliness, self-rejection, guilt, and anxiety.*

This whole “visibly expressing negative emotions” thing is also one of the main why I’m obsessed with the first four seasons of Doctor Who. The Time War plot checks off every box, and Eccleston and Tennant are just brilliant about letting that emotion show through.

Same thing goes for musical theatre. With cast recordings, the best is when you can just hear everything they’re saying in the way they sing things. Pretty Funny from Dogfight (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=64-HBOsY50s) is just brilliant. Some other favorites: Track Down This Murder/Down Once More from Phantom, Empty Chairs at Empty Tables (see: all of Les Miserables, actually), I’m Not That Girl as well as its reprise and No Good Deed from Wicked, Satisfied and Burn from Hamilton**

There are these characters who are...awful. They have objectively done awful things. I don’t think their actions are excusable. Yet the visual part of my just loves to watch them because they’re in pain and it’s written all over their face. (Loki and Kylo Ren fall into this category for me). I want to make all of these excuses for them, and am not repulsed, and spend all of this time analyzing them because what the actors can do with their faces just sucks me in.

Now that I think about it, this is probably why I hate Elijah Wood’s performance of Frodo. The boy had exactly four faces: happy, sad, sick, and demented

A warning: this is a rough collection of GIFs that don’t all match in shape and format.

I will take the ring to Mordor.

Rose.

In the most loving way possible, David Tennant as the 10th Doctor is rather melodramatic and constantly aggrieved, so I’m going to leave it at these two scenes even though I could probably mine a gifset from almost every episode he appears in post-Rose.

Everything I am dies

Loki:

Massacre your entire species to prove your worth and please your father

It’s just rocks and dust.

There was a war, and we lost.

(I love just about every face Christopher Eccleston makes as the Ninth doctor, but will save that for another post.)

I actually didn’t care one way or the other for Alan Rickman’s Snape until this scene. After watching that, I was moved and reevaluated my whole take on the character. I don’t personally see Snape’s relationship with Lily as romantic like I once did, but I don’t think I would have gone back and evaluated the character as deeply as I did without first watching Rickman in that scene. I’m now firmly in the Snapedom.

Frozen:

Then leave.

AKA Viggo Mortensen breaks a toe.

This jerkface.

Samantha Barks was amazing to watch and hear.

Eddie Redmayne is a gift.

Anne Hathaway was phenomenal.

Les Mis was actually really hard to watch in movie theatres because there were so many closeups of the actors’ faces during intense emotional moments. It was a little overwhelming.

Pearl Mackie is a gift.

Some concluding observations:

This is a very white list. It was also feeling pretty male until I added Doctor Who companions and musicals.

This was harder than I was expecting, emotionally. Here’s some more Bill Potts to lighten things up.

*Actually, one of the reasons I couldn’t stand Anna is because she comes off as completely ignorant when Elsa’s every expression is plainly written all over her face, even though narratively she has every reason to be in the dark. If Elsa wore the regular, confusing expressions most of us wear, Anna wouldn’t come off as so silly. (Also if she would stop talking for a few seconds and listen). If Elsa’s animations weren't so expressive, I probably would cut Anna a lot more slack naturally **After I had the privilege of seeing Hamilton, Quiet Uptown joins this list possibly the best bit of acting I have ever seen without a single word being said. You can’t completely hear it in the recordings, but Eliza’s face goes through about 50 emotions without even opening her mouth moving, and I was sobbing as I watched.

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flutteringphalanges · 4 years

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Caught in a Riptide

Summary: After the infamous Count Dracula is discovered and taken into custody by the Jonathan Harker Foundation, former nun and now guardian to her young niece, Zoe, Agatha Van Helsing is tasked with keeping tabs on the vampire after a mishap leads to his release into modern day society. Can Agatha remain levelheaded, or will fate turn her onto a new path?

Pairing: Dracula/Agatha Van Helsing

Rated: M

Read on FFN and AO3

A/N: Alright, my dear readers, as promised! Thank you so much for your support as usual! Feedback is greatly loved and appreciated whether it be comments/kudos/reblogs/etc... I adore hearing your thoughts! Anyway, onward to chapter four!

Chapter Four

Hawkins and Wentworth Law Firm. Established in the late 1800's, representing Count Dracula since September 12, 1896. A partnership that led to the purchase of some property for the vampire along with an arrangement for his resettlement. The vampire had thought of everything. For well over a century, the man had continuous tricks up his sleeve and today the Foundation had served as his willing assistant. That damn tablet. Whoever gave it to him in the first place should be fired on the spot.

"So you see, by holding him here, you are encroaching on Count Dracula's rights."

Frank Renfield was a rather scrawny man. Nervous, the epitome of someone walking on eggshells. His outfit was rather washed out, almost a little too baggy to fit his body properly. Agatha lost count of how many times he pushed his glasses back up to the brim of his nose. He certainly wasn't the ideal lawyer she would've pictured, but she reluctantly gave him credit for how prepared he was.

"He's a murderer!" She tried to argue, gesturing at Dracula who merely grinned in response. "You do realize what he is?!"

"Oh yes, of course!" Frank nodded vigorously, clearing his throat. "But my point stands. He is being held against his will and if he isn't released by tonight, my client is willing to take legal actions. And," the lawyer gave an awkward smile. "I'm not sure if all of England is ready to learn that a vampire is among the population."

"In other words, we're supposed to set him free and just trust that his actions remain civil?" Bloxham countered, folding her arms. "I think not."

"Actually, we did speak on that over Skype." The attorney responded looking over to the vampire as he spoke. "Based on Dracula's prior cases, there is a deal we are willing to make with you. A compromise if you will."

"What makes you think you have the upper hand in deciding this?!" The scientist frowned, eyes fixated on Frank's. "Why do you get to make the decisions?"

"No matter how you look at it, Dr. Bloxham, Count Dracula will be freed tonight." Renfield said firmly, pushing his glasses up again. "We thought it only fair to make some sort of offer to appease the Foundation. Are you interested in listening?" Neither of the women interjected so he continued. "Count Dracula will be freed but he is more than happy to be occasionally checked in on. Think of it as a parole of sorts."

"He's willing for someone to keep tabs on him? Agatha questioned, finally reentering into the conversation. "What's the catch?"

"There is no catch, I assure you," the lawyer explained. "Well...it's interesting actually." His nervous chuckle didn't settle well with the former nun. "He'll agree to these terms IF you are the one to supervise him."

It only happened every so often, but Agatha Van Helsing found herself at a loss for words. She stared dumbfounded at the lawyer who sheepishly smiled through thin lips. There was no arguing. No chance of being heard. Before she could even utter a single word in, Bloxham answered for her.

"Agatha would be more than happy to accept those terms."

Bloxham stared at her as if almost daring her to say otherwise. Frank beamed, opening up his briefcase. "Brilliant!" He expressed, looking from one woman to the other. "Now that we are all on the same track, if we could just fill out some documents. Just some formalities really. You know, just because this is a legal case and we like to keep records on file."

As the scientist led the lawyer away, Agatha finally turned to meet Dracula's gaze. He was smirking at her, obviously delighted by it all. A part of her wanted to race over and open the ceiling, but somehow she refrained despite how marvelous it sounded. He had played her like a fiddle and he knew it. Oh if she could just stake him in the heart...what a satisfying thought.

"I'd like to think of this as a beautiful start to our friendship," Dracula commented. "I had a feeling the Harker Foundation would be breathing down my back because of this, but what better way to soothe this fine institution's concerns than to allow you to be my figurative probation officer?"

"Just because you like to assume that you're very clever doesn't mean you are all that you give yourself credit for." Agatha countered, folding her arms over her chest. "I'm not playing into your game, Count Dracula."

"Oh, but I think that you already are." And his low tone sent a shiver up her spine. "I know your kind, Agatha Van Helsing. And I may not know you fully yet, but I will. I have my ways. And when I do…" His smirk broadened. "I expect we'll be sharing quite the exhilarating experience."

"Go to Hell." It was the best insult that came into her mind at the time.

"My chariot is a two seater," the Count replied. "I'll make sure to keep a spot open for you."

XXX

"Eugene says his big brother said that if you make a face long enough, it'll get stuck like that!" Zoe informed her aunt as she kicked her legs, sending her higher on the swing set. "Why do you look so grumpy?"

Agatha looked up from the book she was attempting to read on the bench. After picking Zoe up from school, she took the little girl to the park. At least there maybe she could clear her head. Setting the novel down in her lap, she looked towards the orange horizon. The sun was beginning to set. Only a few hours now.

"First, Eugene's brother is wrong. Faces don't get stuck," she stated. "And I'm not grumpy, I just had a hard day at work. I'm a little tired, that's all."

"Oh." And Zoe fell silent for a moment, still pumping her legs hard. She was flying so high, Agatha was beginning to grow concern about the chains breaking. "Was Dracula there? Did you talk to him?" The woman visibly stiffened at the name but the girl didn't seem to notice. "I told my friends I met a real vampire, but they didn't believe me. Evan said I was a liar. But I'm not lying, am I?"

Thank God Zoe was only seven with a wild imagination. No one took kids really seriously at that age. Still, perhaps it wasn't good for her to mention him. Quite frankly, she didn't even want to hear his name right now. Grabbing her book, she stood up. It was getting late anyway.

"Let's not talk about him anymore, Zoe." Agatha replied. "How about we finish up here and get some ice cream, hm? I'm in the mood for some." It wasn't exactly the truth, but she knew how to quickly change her niece's train of thought. "What do you say?"

"Two scoops?!" The girl asked with excitement, leaping off the swing.

"One, and you can get it with sprinkles." Agatha said, reaching to take a hold of the little girl's hand. "I think both need it after today." Though a tall glass of something alcohol sounded more appealing. "Let's go."

It wasn't a long drive to the parlor and after getting their cones, they were back on the road. Through the rear view mirror, Agatha watched in dismay as vanilla ice cream dribbled down Zoe's coated mouth onto her shirt and seat belt. Perhaps she should've grabbed a handful of napkins when she had the chance.

"Can we watch a movie tonight?" The little girl asked in between licks. "I promise I'll go to bed right afterwards!"

Well, considering she was already hyped up on sugar, getting her to sleep now would be near impossible. Agatha looked through the mirror again and towards the sky. Nearly dark. His freedom was drawing nearer. Trying not to think about it, she gave into Zoe's demand.

"We can watch a movie," she agreed. "But then you have to go to sleep without arguing."

"Yes, ma'am!" Zoe exclaimed, giving her aunt a salute. "I promise!"

Agatha made a point of locking the door as she and a very sticky Zoe entered the house. As her niece went to wash up, the former nun retrieved her phone from her purse. She hadn't exactly discussed what had happened with Jack. When their lunch was interrupted earlier, Bloxham seemed more concerned with her than the doctor. Dialing his number, she held the device to her ear. It immediately went to voicemail. Frowning, she set it down. She'd try again later when Zoe was asleep.

"All clean!" The little girl called out causing Agatha to snap back into reality. "And in my jammies! C'mon, Aunt Aggie, let's watch something…" She seemed to think about it. "How about something spooky?!"

"How about something that doesn't give you nightmares?" Her aunt chuckled, moving over to sit beside the little girl. "How about one of those princess movies you like?"

"Princesses are boring." Zoe exclaimed, rolling her eyes.

"But you love princesses," Agatha said with a small frown. "You wanted one for your birthday this year."

"I like vampires now." The young girl proclaimed.

Her aunt was about to interject when the sound of her doorbell going off stopped her. Furrowing her brow, Agatha rose from the couch and made her way towards the door. Was it Jack? An odd hour to be making a house call. As she turned the knob to open it, she immediately regretted her decision. For there, standing nonchalantly in front of her was none other than the Devil himself. Count Dracula.

Speechless. Completely, utterly dumbfounded. She must've looked ridiculous, standing there gawking at the man she'd seen locked up only hours before. Agatha's mouth was so dry that even if she wanted to say something, she couldn't. Silence.

"Well? You know how this works, don't you?" The moonlight glinted off of Dracula's smile as he stood at Agatha's doorstep patiently. "Are you going to invite me in?"

So many questions. An entire novel's worth. She began to rifle through them, trying to decide which of the several were the most important to bring up first. Agatha blocked the doorway, her eyes narrowing as she stared daggers at the vampire.

"How the Hell did you find my house?!" It seemed like a logical inquiry all things considered.

"Googled it." He shrugged, looking as if he was very proud of himself. "You'd be surprised by the lack of Van Helsings in the area. Oh." He held up one finger before shoving a hand into his pocket. "And this helped too." It was Jack's phone.

"You..." Agatha stumbled, struggling between insulting or going off completely. "You stole Jack's phone and then decided it was okay to stalk me to my home?!" "I didn't stalk you." The vampire corrected. "I merely followed your address." He inhaled, still seeming unfazed by Agatha's aggravation. "Are you going to let me in?" "I..." She began before the sound of small feet came bounding in her direction. Zoe. Christ.

"Aunt Aggie!" The girl chirped. "You gotta put a movie in! You're..." Her blue eyes widen at the sight of Dracula. "Mr. Dracula!"

"Zoe, go to your room." Agatha said coolly, trying to block the little girl's view. "Dracula was just leaving-"

"Wanna come in and watch the movie with us?!"

Agatha was unsure whether to face palm, cry out in frustration, or just go dig a hole and bury herself in it as Dracula grinned widely and stepped into her home. All thanks to Zoe's innocent invitation inside. How thoughtful.

"Thank you for the generous offer, Zoe." Dracula said kneeling down to the girl's eye level. "But I'm here to actually talk to your Aunt Aggie."

Agatha swept in front of the two glowering at the vampire as he straightened up. Zoe peered from behind her aunt, looking curiously at the towering Count. His expression, still friendly, was no longer focused on her, but now met her aunt's gaze.

"Get out," Agatha growled. "I rescind your invitation."

"Ah, as much as I'm sure you'd like that, it doesn't work that way." His smile turned into a smirk as he leaned against the wall. "You see, it was dear Zoe who invited me in. Not you. And while this is your house, she lives here too. So unless your niece wants me to leave, I think I'll stay for a bit." His eyes flickered down to the little girl again. "Can I stay, Zoe?"

"Zoe," Agatha said through her teeth. "Tell him to leave. Now."

"How about a little incentive. Say...five pounds?" Dracula whipped the money from his pocket and dangled it in front of her like a dog. "It's yours if I can stay."

The little girl smiled and, without a word, snatched the money and hurried off to put it in her piggy bank. Dracula grinned, delighted by his accomplishment as he turned back to face an enraged Agatha. What a cheat. The woman's arms folded tightly over her chest as she watched with fury as he made his way over to the kitchen table.

"You're a real prick." She hissed as he sat down. "You have no right to even talk to her-or bribe her for that matter! She's seven!"

"She's smart," Dracula sighed contentedly, leaning back. "Won't you join me? Take a seat, Agatha, I merely came here to talk." He laced his fingers together, hands resting on the table. "We've both had quite a day today, haven't we?"

Agatha didn't sit down. Instead, she just stared at him. Hard. As if maybe, if she concentrated hard enough, he'd just poof away. Or explode. That would've been better. He, of course, waited patiently for her reply and soon the former nun realized that, unless she addressed him, he wouldn't be leaving any time soon.

"Why are you here?" It was a repetitive question and she knew it.

"To talk," he replied. "You practically stormed out the moment my dear lawyer and that boss of yours discussed everything over with you. You can be quite difficult, I'm learning. But we can work on that," he smiled. "Could I trouble you for a piece of paper and a pen?"

"Why?" Agatha asked curtly.

"So I can write down my address for you," the Count rolled his eyes. "Goodness, Agatha, for a Van Helsing, I thought you would be more dedicated in wanting to locate me. Do you know how hard your grandfather tried? I am literally giving you directions to my home. You should be more appreciative."

Offering his address. Such a cordial act. What his motive was behind it, she wasn't sure. But Agatha remembered Bloxham's request-or rather, mandatory instructions, and she begrudgingly got what he asked for. Tossing them roughly onto the table, the former nun watched as he scribbled his information down in a surprising elegant font.

"I included my number as well." Dracula exclaimed, holding the paper out to her. "Go on, take it. I don't bite." And there was a glint of mischievousness in his eyes as he spoke the last bit. "I hope you don't mind, but I took the liberty of copying down your own cell number from your friend's phone." With that, he neatly slid Jack's device across the table. "Apologize to him, will you? I'm sure he's frantically looking for it."

Agatha immediately snatched it up and shoved it into her pocket. Hopefully he hadn't tampered with it to the point of it being useless. As for the paper, she hesitantly took it, eyes studying the words scrawled across. Almost instantly she recognized the street. Even the name of the complex. Nostrils flared, she gazed up at the Count wide eyed.

"There must be some mistake." She snapped, looking from him back down to the paper. "This is only a few blocks from where I live!"

"It seemed only appropriate seeing as you are supposed to be keeping an eye on me." Dracula said in a hair tearingly calm voice. "It was an added bonus that it sits at the perfect location. How coincidences can be rather humorous." He continued to smile, the same look that had yet to leave his face. "You should come by some time. Perhaps for dinner?"

If she was to kill him now, right on the spot, would anyone really mind? Jack certainly wouldn't tell. Bloxham might be rather annoyed, but all things considered, she could kiss Agatha's ass. Then there was his lawyer-Frank. She could figure something out. But then deep down, way deep down at this point, the Van Helsing side of her wanted to learn more. Desired to know more. And by destroying the vampire where he currently stood would take away from that.

"I prefer not to partake in the slaughtering of innocent human life." The woman replied coldly. "And I intend to make sure you do the same." For a brief moment, the amusement faltered from Dracula's face. "You're in the modern world, Count Dracula. Drinking people dry is frowned upon by society. I assure you, whatever it takes, your last victim will have been in 1897. I swear upon my great, great grandfather's name."

"He's dead," the vampire said with a cocked eyebrow. "I believe you are supposed to swear on the live's of the living…say that darling Zoe of yours?"

He struck a major pressure point and Dracula very well knew it. Agatha's gaze darkened and she leaned dangerous close to his face. If he wanted, the Count could've easily snapped her neck within a second. Instead, he merely eyed her with curiosity.

"If you ever lay one of your clawed fingers on a single hair on her head, I will destroy you where you stand." Agatha hissed with such ferocity even she was a little taken aback. "Don't threaten my child."

"I have no intention to," Dracula said, holding up a hand. "But your aggressive protectiveness is a rather charming quality if I do say so myself."

"As charming as a crucifix burned into your bare flesh," she shot back.

"Kinky," Dracula chuckled. "My, you are quite an anomaly, Agatha Van Helsing."

"What's kinky?"

Both adults turned to see Zoe standing there eyeing them with great interest. Her head was tilted ever so slightly and in her arms she hugged one of her stuffed animals. Jesus Christ, not again. He'd been awake for a day. ONE day. And he already was corrupting her niece's mind with such vulgar language.

"Nothing." She said, eyes locked on Dracula's as she spoke. "And I don't want to hear you repeating it."

"Oh, a bad word." Zoe nodded thoughtfully. "Are we going to watch a movie now?"

"Actually," Dracula began as he stood up. "I suppose I should be leaving now. It's getting rather late-or, I should say, becoming too close to early for my comfort." He strode towards the door as Agatha remained at the table, Zoe by her side. "I'll be seeing you soon, Agatha." He grinned, his eyes flickering down to the little girl. "And thank you for inviting me in, Zoe. I much appreciated that."

Agatha said nothing as the vampire opened the door and slipped outside. After she was sure he was gone, she hurried over and locked the dead bolt. Running a hand through her hair, she let out a long, hard exhale. Zoe walked over to her, an ever present happy expression on her young face.

"I like him!" She stated cheerfully.

That only made one of them.

#Dracula #Dracula 2020 #Dragatha #Agatha Van Helsing #Dracula x Agatha #Caught in a Riptide

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