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c-e-d-dreamer · 1 year

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I Was Enchanted To Meet You: Part Two

A/N: Fluffy Disney shenanigans continue for these two lovely idiots in honor of @elucienweekofficial ;) Also, I just need everyone to pretend that Nesta and Elain aren't technically sisters, okay? Just for the sake of this fic! Nothing to see here.... anyways! Hope everyone enjoys :)

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Elain

The sun’s rays spill in around Elain and gently tug her away from sleep’s warm embrace. Slowly but surely, she blinks her eyes open, stretching her arms above her head until she feels that satisfying pull in her muscles and shoulders. She smacks her lips together and sits up, but it takes her a few moments to fully recognize where she is.

She half expects to wake up in her bed back in her cottage, for Pip and her other forest friends to greet her before they enjoy a nice breakfast together, but then it all comes flooding back to her. The old woman. The wishing well. Climbing out of the hole in the ground into this strange world. The memories flash across Elain’s mind until her chest starts to constrict and heave, until her stomach flips over itself and she has to squeeze her eyes shut against the onslaught.

Taking a deep, calming breath, Elain exhales out all of those memories, all of those negative thoughts. She simply doesn’t have time for that. Cassian is coming to rescue her, to take her back home to Andalasia, so there’s simply no point. It’s important to focus on the positive instead. Like the very nice family that showed her kindness last night and allowed her to sleep in their lovely home.

Well, mostly lovely.

Elain can’t help but wrinkle her nose as she eyes the space around her, the empty food cartons, the crumbs, the dirty dishes she can spy piled up in the kitchen. This place most definitely needs a good thorough scrub, and she supposes the least she can do as a guest here is help with that. It will be the perfect way for her to pay the Vanserras back for their kindness.

With a decided nod, Elain pushes up from the sofa and stands up. She steps over to the window, having to put a bit of force behind it before it slides up and opens. With a satisfied hum, Elain leans out, cupping a hand to her mouth and singing a tune that floats away on the morning breeze. When the echo of her voice finally fades, she steps back and waits, excited to see what forest friends this strange world has that can help her.

That excitement morphs into pure bewilderment, though, when the creatures that answer her call arrive. Rats. Pigeons. Raccoons. Bugs. They’re certainly not the types of friends Elain is used to back in her forest, and it takes all her willpower to keep her face neutral, not to give away the bile that’s started to tickle the back of her throat.

“I suppose it’s always good to make new friends,” Elain forces herself to say aloud, but now that she’s said it, she lets the truth of those words fill her with new found determination. She lifts the skirts of her dress up and ties them off so they’ll be out of her way and claps her hands together. “Right. Let’s get to work and make this place sparkle as it should.”

As Elain starts to sing her favorite happy, working song, all of her new friends get to work. They start to gather up the trash and sweep up the crumbs in the living room, clearly having everything under control, so Elain skips into the kitchen. She fills the sink with warm, soapy water and digs out a pair of bright yellow gloves from the cabinet beneath. While she continues to hum and sing, she gives each dish a thorough scrub until she can practically see her own smiling reflection blinking back at her in the porcelain.

“And here we are,” Elain says, handing each dish to a raccoon to wipe dry before one of the pigeons flies the dishes to the correct cupboard to be put away.

When the dishes are finished, Elain leaves her friends to finish wiping down the countertops and mopping the floor, and instead, she picks up a feather duster and heads back into the living room, the floor thankfully now visible. She dusts off each of the lamps on the side tables and continues toward the mantle, but her movements pause as she takes in the neat line of picture frames.

The first photo appears to be Willow as a baby, perhaps even just a few days old. She’s swaddled tightly in a bundle of white blankets, just her face and rounded pink cheeks peeking out. Lucien has her cradled in his arms and close to his chest, his smile wide as he peers down at his daughter rather than the camera. Even though she can’t fully see his eyes in the photo, Elain can still see the joy, the love glimmering in that captured gaze, the emotions frozen forever in time.

The second photo seems to have been taken at some sort of beach. Willow is a few years older than in the first, perched happily on her father’s shoulders. Her smile is wide, showing off a mismatched smile of growing teeth. A pair of sunglasses hides Lucien’s eyes from view, but Elain can’t help but notice that his smile seems a bit softer in this photo, almost more cautious.

The third photo is just Willow, proudly holding a small chalkboard, colorful looping letters declaring it her first day of school. But the final photo seems to be the most recent. It appears to be some sort of formal affair, judging by the attire of the both of them. Like the previous two photos, Willow’s face is bright and happy, but it’s Lucien’s face that really draws Elain’s attention. He looks almost… reserved. Resigned. Even as he smiles softly with his daughter in his arms, there’s something almost sad about it.

It both warms her heart and leaves her chest aching to stare at all these photos. To see such a happy, little family, and yet, at the same time, seeing a man close himself off through the years and through the photos. Seeing a man who clearly no longer sees all the beauty and wonder and love that the world has to offer. Even this strange one.

An alarmed squeak to her right finally pulls Elain away from the photos. She looks over to find that one of the rat’s tails has been sucked up into the vacuum cleaner. Elain lets out a quiet gasp, and sets her feather duster down, rushing to the small creature's aid.

“Here, let me help you,” Elain exclaims, reaching down to gently pull the rat’s tail free. “There. Much better, huh?”

The rat gives another squeak, this one a happy confirmation, and then it goes scampering off to continue cleaning. Elain smiles as she glances around the room, watching as the rats continue to wipe down the windows with their tails until they shine, as the pigeons finish straightening out the books and magazines on the coffee table.

“This place is already looking so much better,” Elain praises her new friends as she stands up, earning a cacophony of cheers and chirps.

With the pigeons’ encouragement at her back, Elain is guided into another room in the apartment, a large bath taking up most of the space in the center of the room. One of the raccoons scampers forward and turns the nobs until water spills from above the bath, the heat of it filling the whole room with steam.

For a moment, Elain is completely enraptured by this completely new and strange contraception of this world, but then the pigeons begin to tug the pins and ties from her hair, carefully pulling apart her updo with their beaks. Elain reaches her own hands up to help, her fingers making quick work of the tangles until her hair falls down along her shoulders and back.

Her friends help her with the buttons and stays of her dress next, until it falls away in a bundle of white fabric at her feet. Elain steps fully out of the dress and toward the spray of water, holding her hand out tentatively. A sigh of delight pulls its way from deep within her chest at the warmth that spills across her fingers, and humming to herself, Elain steps gingerly into the white basin and under the spray of water, allowing that steady stream to work out every knot, to wash away everything from the previous day.

~ * * * ~

Lucien

“Daddy! Daddy, wake up!”

Lucien groans softly and buries his face deeper into his pillow. His alarm for the day hasn’t gone off just yet, which means he still has a few more moments of blissful sleep. A few more moments to cling to that sleepy relaxation blanketing his limbs and sinking down to his bones. A few more moments to keep grasp of the dream he was having, even as the tendrils of it slip through his fingers like smoke.

“Daddy, come on. You have to see this.”

Slowly, Lucien opens his eyes. He reaches a hand up to push his hair out of the way and comes face to face with another head of bright, red hair. Willow blinks down at him, her eyes wide, and still clad in her pajamas from the night before. Her little hands are pressed to his shoulder, fingers digging into the tee he wore to bed, and when he doesn’t move fast enough, she gives him another shake.

“What is it?” Lucien asks, his voice mumbled and still sleep addled, as he sits up in the bed.

“It’s kind of hard to explain,” Willow offers vaguely, grabbing onto Lucien’s arm and tugging. “You’re just going to have to see for yourself.”

Lucien allows his daughter to tug him up, and he clambers off of the bed. Still clasping his hand tightly in hers, Willow leads them out of his bedroom and down the hallway of their apartment. When they finally reach the living room, Lucien swears he must still be dreaming. He has to be. Because there is simply no other explanation for the sight before him.

Rats. Pigeons. Raccoons. His entire apartment is covered in vermin. They run across the hardwood floors, climb up over the coffee table, and if Lucien peers into the kitchen, he can even see them on the countertops. He feels like he’s going to be sick. The sight has bile swirling ominously in his gut, and it takes all of Lucien’s willpower to swallow down his gag. How did they even get inside? Is the whole floor infested or just their apartment?

“What do we do?” Willow asks, tearing Lucien away from his spiraling thoughts.

“We’ve got to get them out of here,” Lucien declares, jumping into action.

He stretches his arms out wide as he moves through the living room, trying to herd the pigeons toward the open windows as best he can. Most of the birds squawk but fly away in the direction he intends, but for those that don’t, Lucien merely grabs them with his hands and all but flings them out the window.

“What should I do with these?”

Lucien looks over at the question only to find Willow holding the tails of four rats in her hands. The sight has his stomach turning even more than it already has. He doesn’t even want to begin to think about all the potential germs his daughter could get from that simple touch. He’s going to have to scrub them both down thoroughly after this.

“Don’t touch them,” Lucien chastises her, rushing forward to yank open their front door. “Just throw them out. Throw them outside.”

Thankfully, Willow does as he requests, practically tossing the rats out of their apartment and into the hallway. He instructs Willow to stay by the door while he moves back into the living room. He crouches down and waves his hands low to the ground, pushing all the remaining critters into a large clump and encouraging them toward the door.

When the last of the vermin is over the threshold, Lucien slams the front door closed, daring to slide the lock into place for extra good measure. He leans against the wood and lets out a relieved sigh, his heart rate finally slowing back down to a normal rate, as his eyes scan across the space, double checking no other creatures are hiding anywhere.

“Come on,” Lucien says to Willow leading her into the kitchen.

He grabs the little stool they keep there for her and sets it down in front of the sink. He then turns on the water as hot as he can stand, encouraging Willow to hold her hands under the spray when she climbs up onto her stool. He squeezes a generous amount of soap into both their hands, scrubbing hard until Lucien is sure he can no longer feel the remnants of holding those pigeons or touching those rats.

“What a crazy morning,” Willow giggles, shaking the water from her hands.

“Crazy is an understatement,” Lucien mutters, shaking his head.

He still can’t quite wrap his mind around the way his world has turned upside down in less than twenty four hours. One night and it’s as if the rug has been pulled clean from beneath his feet, leaving him stumbling and confused. Before, he had felt so comfortable in his routine. He woke up, got Willow ready for school. He went to work and trudged through his case files. And on the weekends, he would get a babysitter, so he and Nesta could have a date night.

It was easy. It was steady. And sure, Vassa would tease him relentlessly for being boring, for already being an eighty year old man, for lacking in the wonders of romance as she said, but if there’s one thing that Lucien knows first hand, it’s that romance is a load of bullshit. It’s nothing like the books or the movies. There’s nothing whirlwind or worthwhile about it. All it leads to is disappointment and heartbreak.

And he was perfectly okay with that, to be without it, with the quiet reliability of his life.

And now he’s catching crazy women who fall off billboards? And letting them stay the night? And waking up to an infested apartment? It’s madness.

Lucien's swirling thoughts do bring him crashing back to the one thing currently missing in action for this strange morning: Elain. While he and Willow dry their hands, Lucien’s eyes dance back toward the living room, but there’s no sign of her. Even the blanket that Lucien had draped over her the previous night is now neatly folded away.

Lucien starts to half wonder if he actually imagined the whole previous night, but the sound of humming drifts through the apartment, prickling his ears. Leaving Willow in the kitchen, he goes investigating through the apartment. He follows that lilting, gentle melody, like a siren song leading him blindingly but willingly, until he reaches the bathroom. The door is closed, but over the sound of that humming, Lucien thinks he can hear the shower running.

“Elain?” Lucien calls out, knocking on the door before tentatively pushing it open.

Just as Lucien steps inside the bathroom, the shower curtain is yanked back, Elain stepping out like some sort of goddess of steam. The honeyed strands of her hair now hang loose around her shoulders and down her back, the light spilling into the bathroom sparking against the curls until they look almost like spun gold. The heat of the shower has left her skin dappled in pink, the constellation of freckles across the apples of her cheeks more prominent beneath the color, and especially when Elain smiles widely in greeting.

“Good morning, Lucien,” Elain offers brightly, stepping out of the shower and accepting the towel that two pigeons wrap around her. “I was just enjoying your magic waterfall room.”

“My… magic wat…” Lucien splutters, letting out a sigh and pinching the bridge of his nose. “Mother, help me.”

“Where does the water come from?”

Lucien lets out a near hysterical laugh, dropping his hand back to his side and settling Elain with a bland look. “The pipes.”

“And where do the pipes get it from?” Elain asks earnestly, like she didn’t pick up on or didn’t care for Lucien’s dry tone or sarcasm.

“You can’t be serious,” Lucien mutters, more to himself than to Elain.

Completely unperturbed and unbothered, Elain steps over to the bathroom sink. The remnants of the shower steam still cover the mirror hanging above it, blocking the view, and she tilts her head and frowns at it, even as her hands still reach up to fiddle with her hair.

“Here,” Lucien offers, stepping to the other side of the bathroom to grab an extra towel.

“Oh, don’t worry. My new friends can take care of it.”

Elain cups a hand to her mouth and starts to sing just as Lucien sidles up beside her, reaching up to wipe the towel against the mirror and clear the steam away. Seemingly in response, more pigeons come flying into the room, knocking into Lucien’s arm and the back of his head. As if that’s not enough, more rats go scurrying across the bathroom floor and over Lucien’s feet.

Lucien lets out a shout in alarm, stumbling backwards in a desperate attempt to get away from the vermin now invading his bathroom. His arms flail with the movement, accidentally knocking into Elain and throwing her equally off balance. Lucien curls his arms around her waist, hoping to at least keep her from a disastrous spill, but it just sends them both spinning out of the bathroom and tumbling to the floor of the hallway.

A pained grunt pulls its way free from Lucien’s chest as he lands hard on his back, his elbows and tailbone already flaring in protest at the harsh landing. Elain lands right on top of him with a quiet squeak, still clad in just a towel. Even through the sleep pants and tee that Lucien is wearing, he can feel everywhere her body is pressed against his, and Lucien closes his eyes and sighs, praying to the Mother, the Cauldron, and any other deity that might be listening to give him strength.

“Are you kidding me?”

Lucien freezes at the sound of that voice, his whole body locking up with tension until he swears he can hear his blood pounding in his ears. His eyes snap open, and he turns his head, his worst fears confirmed when he sees Nesta standing in the doorway of their front door. Her blue gray eyes spark with icy rage, that narrowed gaze flitting between Lucien and Elain like she’s unsure whom to direct all her wrath at.

“Nesta, it’s not what it looks—”

“It’s not?” Nesta cuts him off, her tone clipped and cold. “Then who’s this?”

“I’m Elain,” Elain answers for him, clambering up to her feet and stepping toward Nesta with her hand outstretched in greeting. “I stayed the night last night.”

Nesta scoffs, turning her ire back on Lucien. “Did she, now? Wow. And here I thought you were such a great guy that I never stayed the night. I thought it’s so sweet that he cares so much about his daughter. Didn’t realize this was the real reason.”

“Nesta, please,” Lucien protests, pushing forward past Elain and to the door, to Nesta. “It’s really not like that. It’s just that last night, we were—”

“I don’t care, Lucien,” Nesta snaps. She shakes her head and adjusts the strap of her bag on her shoulder, turning away from the apartment, but Lucien catches her wrist before she can leave.

“Please don’t leave. You were going to take Willow to school, remember? So, the two of you can have grown up girl bonding time.”

“Why? So you can have grown up girl bonding time?” Nesta pulls her arm free from his grasp, lowering her voice to a whisper, so Willow doesn’t overhear. “Fuck you.”

With that, Nesta stalks away down the hallway and toward the elevators, leaving Lucien gaping like a fish after her. He lets out a frustrated groan, digging the heels of his hands into his eyes. This is truly the worst morning he thinks he’s had in years. How could this happen? How could everything just be crumbling chaos all around him? He glances back to Willow and Elain, both still standing in the front entryway awkwardly, and hesitates for only a moment before rushing out the door. He runs down the hallway, hoping beyond hope that he’ll get lucky.

“Nesta, wait!” Lucien calls out, when he reaches the elevators, just in time to watch the doors close on Nesta’s still annoyed face.

Lucien stares at the elevator doors, at the numbers above as they tick down and down. He’s not sure if this is meant to be a sign, if the Fates are just laughing in his face at this point, but if there’s one thing Lucien does know, it’s that he’s never helping a random stranger ever again. No matter how pretty they are.

—

Updated Taglist (let me know if you’d like to be added): @moodymelanist @nesquik-arccheron @sv0430 @talkfantasytome @bookstantrash @eirini-thaleia @ubigaia @fromthelibraryofemilyj @luivagr-blog @lifeisntafantasy @superspiritfestival @hiimheresworld @marigold-morelli @sweet-pea1 @emeriethevalkyriegirl @pyxxie @dustjacketmusings @hallway5 @dongjunma @glowing-stick-generation @melonsfantasyworld @isterofimias @goddess-aelin @melphss @theladystardust @a-trifling-matter @blueunoias @kookskoocie @unlikelypersonalknight1 @blurredlamplight @hereforthenessian @skaixo @jmoonjones @burningsnowleopard @whyisaravenlike-awritingdesk @ofduskanddreams @rarephloxes @thelovelymadone

#elucien #elucienweek2023 #elain archeron #lucien vanserra #acotar #pro elucien #elucien fanfic #elucien fic #elain x lucien #elain and lucien #enchanted au #my fic

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not-your-fucking-kacchan · 2 years

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Hi hi :)) can I request Erasermic x reader (platonic) hurt/comfort when the readers’ bio parents die? A little lore for this ask but you don’t have to include this- basically readers mom was a vigilante and villains wanted to get revenge on her, so reader was taken in by UA to keep her safe and she ended up joining class 1-A. Fem! Reader pls Thank you so much <33

Hi hi! <3

Of course I can! I poured every bit of talent I could scrape outta my system for this one lol cus I wanted it to be good omnskdn

Lemme know if you want a part 2! I have loads of ideas for this!

Y'all listen to Scott pilgrims fairy fountain theme slowed down for this please I promise you it just hits different in so many ways ah-

Also have I been calling present mic "president" mic before this fic? 💀💀

Masterlist <3

𝐄𝐫𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐌𝐢𝐜 𝐱 𝐅𝐞𝐦!𝐒𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 (𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐜) - 𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐈'𝐯𝐞 𝐃𝐨𝐧𝐞

Bright eyes wander over the ground below from a distance, stare unwavering and expression cold. The floor dances with the fall of each raindrop, concrete becoming an expanse of colour as the light from nearby streetlamps reflect off the water.

The world looks so untouched from here, stories above ground at the height of UA's rooftop. Noone's around in this kind of flooding rainfall, and kids and parents alike take cover from the raging storm from above. It's a magical sight.

The only drop of colour radiates from the dancing reflections of the floor, like a TV gone static. The sky is clouded and there's no sight of sunlight, casting a gloomy blanket over the skyscrapers that try so desperately to touch it.

It's at this point where you lose a sense of yourself, drenched in rain down to the bone, hair flattened and clinging to your forehead. It feels so good to feel so raw like this, each raindrop stinging your skin as it hits you, grounding you in a way that nothing else ever could. Grief weighs on your chest like an asthma attack, restricting your breath through the lump in your throat. You're can't even distinguis between the rain and the tears that you assume are still falling.

It wasn't raining when you had first sat down here, and although the sky was clouding and the atmosphere was heavy from an oncoming storm, you didn't really mind either way. You would guess it's the perk of having a water reliant quirk. Sitting in the rain brings you relief that eases something deep inside, and you find yourself drawn to it like a month to flame.

You needed something to use as a crutch, and the rain was a good enough substitute for you. It would make a good enough substitute for the embrace you'll never get from your parents again. The thought has another strained sob wrenching itself from your chest. The corners of your mouth pull into a half-frown, like you're trying to avoid fully breaking down. Or like you're afraid of what might happen if you did. Your front teeth worry at your bitten up bottom lip, trying to keep any other involuntary cries stuck in your throat so they can die there.

You'd gone past the apathy of denial a few days ago, but at this point, you can deny no longer the fact that they're gone.

Now, you have nothing.

Your thoughts are interrupted by the sound of the hinges of the rooftop door creaking loudly, no doubt rusting from the heavy rain over the years. You don't even turn your head.

"__...?"

Aizawa sees no movement from you. It's not like he was expecting you to be bouncing off the walls, anyway.

"Come on, it's time to go."

His tone is grave, heavy with the weight of your parents on his mind. President mic stands a few feet behind him, eyes filled with remorse at the sight of you like this. You're almost catatonic, stricken with heartbreak. Noone's ever seen you so lifeless before. Not even the most intense depressive episodes have left you like this.

Aizawa leaves the shelter of the doorway without an ounce of hesitation, the black of his clothes saturating with the onslaught of heavy rain, which soaks into the shoulders at first, and then hits him from the from with a change in the wind.

From the corner of your vision, you see a hand reaching out to you, willing to pull you from the depths of despair and into a state of recovery. Your chewed up bottom lip wobbles for a second as you take the hand blindly, and suddenly you're enveloped in your sensei's warm embrace. It's so sudden, and it's just the comfort you needed to let go of your inhibitions, warm tears bonding with the streaks of cold rain that travel down the planes of your face.

"I didn't- I didn't think it would end like this! Is it all my fault?! 'Cause whatever I've done- I- I promise-... It wasn't supposed to end like this!"

Aizawa is no stranger to comforting those going through the loss of a loved one, though he never thought he would have to deliver such a harsh truth to his own student. It reopens a few old wounds, but it's not something he's worried about right now when you're in this state.

"I promise, there was nothing you could've done. You were put here to avoid you possibly suffering the same fate as your parents. They wanted you safe."

As much as you wish it wasn't true, you know it is. There's nothing you can do now. Was everything supposed to feel so hopeless and empty when you're training to be one of the strongest heroes there is? Shouldn't it be the opposite?

You can't stop yourself from crying into Aizawa's chest while he guides you back inside, careful not to have you slipping over. Neither teacher say anything as you descend the school stairwell after hours, and you're left with a comforting silence that's much less desolate than before.

#mha x reader #bnha x reader #bnha fanfiction #mha #bnha #bnha fluff #bnha headcanons #mha fluff #aizawa x reader #erasermic #dadzawa #dad mic #present mic #mic x reader #bnha angst #mha angst #student reader #aizawa x student reader

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fandom-blackhole · 3 years

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Sinful Sunday!!

AN: Well folks we made it to number 10 of Sinful Sundays!!!! Honestly you all have been liking these more than I thought you would and that makes me really happy! Only real announcement for this week is that this week's Wednesday fic is the next part of Merman!Din and I am super excited to get it written and ready for you guys! Anyway, I hop you a have a great week!!

Sinful Sunday Masterlist

Pairings: Marshal Commander Cody x Reader, Sub!Captain Rex x Reader, Din Djarin x Reader, Paz Vizsla x Reader, Ezra (Prospect)x Reader

Marshal Commander Cody x Reader

Ok so I feel like this one is long overdue, but I just wanna say be warned that there is just a lot of smut in this. In my defense my period has me going through some feral ass thoughts…..

It had been a long evening of meetings and schmoozing with other senators at a diplomatic gala that had been thrown by Chancellor Palpatine himself. You were just ready to be in your apartment where you could shed the heavy dress you were wearing along with the tight, migraine-inducing hairdo you were supporting. What you weren’t expecting though, was to only get one digit of your security code into the keypad before your door was swishing open and you were being pulled into your home away from home. Your first instinct was to fight back, not seeing your assailant, then you felt the cold hardness of plastoid digging into your back, as well as the small sliver of deep yellow on the gloves. Instantly you relaxed, and when he let you go you spun around ready to chastise him for his behavior, but when you made eye contact, you could see the hot blaze set in his amber eyes. Gulping you take a step away from him and open your mouth to speak, but are instantly cut off by the man of the hour, Commander Cody, as he growls out, “That’s some dress you have on there, senator.”

Looking down you blush, and avoid eye contact as you say, “We-well, Commander, the style wasn’t necessarily my idea...the color was though.”

The dress was showier than some of your others, having a plunging neckline, as well as open sides that gave off just enough side boob to tease anyone within eyesight. The dress also had two very high leg slits that very clearly showed your legs off with every step you took, and the color, which you had picked purposefully, was very much the same shade that Cody wore proudly on his armor.

Looking up, you caught Cody’s engulfing gaze as he took in every inch of you, especially lingering on the spots where your breasts showed teasingly and where your thighs were peeking from behind the silky fabric. Finding your voice again you spoke up saying, “I, uh, liked the dress. Thought the color looked nice on me… do you not like it, Cody?”

That had his eyes immediately jerking up to meet your own, and him stepping forward to crowd you into the wall.

“Like it? Do I like it? The second I walked into that party with the General to speak with the Chancellor I could see you, and fuck did you make me want to bend you over right there. Teach you a lesson for walking around dressed like this, how many of those sniveling senators do you think you made harder than they have ever been in their life> Hmm? How many of those men and women do you think came just from the sight of you?”

You only shivered in response to his question, then in the next second, he was smashing his lips into your own in a bruising kiss that left you completely breathless when he finally pulled away.

“Co-cody pl-,” you couldn’t even finish your thought before, he slapped your thigh with enough force to make the sound echo through your quiet apartment and you to whimper before he growled out, “Tonight, it is Commander. I want you in your bed stripped bare and open for me by the time I get this armor off,” he gave you one more bruising kiss, before squeezing your thigh which no doubt had a red mark, as whispered, “Go.”

You were in your room before you could even think. You thanked the maker that the dress wasn’t one of the harder ones to take off and didn’t need more than one pair of hands to peel from your body. The dress, you immediately hung up, not wanting it to get ruined, especially with how much of a reaction it has caused in your favorite Commander. Next you started ripping out all the pins and accessories from your hair, glad that you didn’t need to waste time stripping from underthings because you hadn’t been able to wear them under the dress. The second you heard stopping feet coming closer to your bedroom door, you had pulled the last pin from your hair and launched yourself into bed not wanting to know what punishment Cody would give you tonight with how worked up he obviously was.

When Cody entered the room, he paused only long enough to take in your flustered and lustful sight with a smirk before climbing onto the bed and positioning himself between your spread legs.

“Look at you, I haven’t even touched you, and these,” he reached up squeezing your breasts, before pinching your nipples listening to the sinful mewl you give out, “are already hard and begging for me to touch them. Isn’t that right, senator?”

Flustered, you feel heat rise in your face and chest as you nod, embarrassed over just how worked up Commander Cody could so effortlessly make you. But that wasn’t enough of an answer for him, so he reached down with one hand and slapped your wet pussy, enjoying just how wet it felt and sounded as he did. He squeezed your breasts and ran his thumb over your peaked nipple as he said lowly, “Answer me.”

“Yes, yes Cod- Commander. All for you, please,” and as you gave out an answer you knew would please him, you arched your chest up into his touch with a whimper. “Such a good little thing for me.”

Cody made sure and take his time with your breasts, squeezing and pinching them, nipping and marking them, so that by the time he pulled away your chest glistened with his saliva and was colored with bright marks. He watched your heaving chest with an almost possessive gaze for a minute as he reached down and stroked himself a few times. Then his gaze met yours again, and you could see just how much his black pupils had eaten away the amber of his gaze in his lust for you and you couldn’t help the moan that slipped out when you felt the hunger in his gaze. Then you felt the head of his cock being pushed through your slippery folds, nudging against your clit, making your head press back into the pillow as your mouth fell open in a silent moan.

“Tell me how much you want me, come on, I wanna hear it. Beg me for my cock.”

Whimpering, you opened you eyes and met his gaze again and moaned out as his tip brushed over your clit again and said, “Please, Commander.”

You felt him pull his cock away from you and as you started to whimper, it turned into a pleasured mewl as he smacked your cunt again, growling, “You can do better than that, try again.”

Wasting no time, especially as he barely brushed his cock over you teasingly you begged out, “Please, Commander, please please, please. I need you, I need you to put it inside me. Please I need you, Commander.”

Cody muttered some small praise to you as he pressed into you, graning about how good you feel. Instead of slamming into you as you had expected, Cody made sure to sink into you slowly, making sure you felt every inch of him, every catch and bump as he sunk all the way into you. By the time he bottomed out and you felt his balls brush against your ass, you were squirming and attempting to grind against him to some kind of friction to relieve the aching need you felt, but he kept both hands anchored to your waist keeping you still. With a grin, Cody looked up at you from where he had been watching you stretch and take him fully, “Now I want you to cum all over me like this. I wanna feel you squeeze me even tighter, and if you’re good then I will fuck you so hard you’ll walk with a limp tomorrow, senator.”

His words alone were enough to have you flushing and clenching around him as he stretched you out. Then he moved one of his large hands down so that it rested over your lower belly and his thumb could press tight circles to your clit that had you seeing stars almost immediately. He held you still as he brushed his thumb over your clit again and again and you felt like you were going mad. As he continued his onslaught you begged him to move, but he stayed silent only pressing harder against your clit, until you couldn’t take it anymore and you clenched down on him and came with a shout of, “Commander.”

He didn’t even give you a second to recover before he was pulling out of you and slamming back into you as he grunted, “So good for me.”

Cody set up a punishing pace that had you reaching up digging your nails into his shoulders and wrapping your legs around his waist. At some point, he manages to nail you right into that sensitive spot inside of you, and you through back your head with a long moan. Now aiming for that spot over and over, Cody buried his face in your neck and starts biting and sucking more marks into your skin. You could feel your second orgasm approaching quickly after Cody’s pace picked up slightly, and it took no time at all for this orgasm to overtake you. You felt it wash over you, making you tense from head to toe, clenching down on Cody so hard that his thrusts got shallower. You didn’t realize until after you started recovering from your orgasm that your ears had started ringing, and by the time you felt Cody’s thrusts become erratic you could hear the absolute feral grunting falling from his lips. Then you felt him, push your legs from his hips and pull out of you roughly right as he shot his first rope of cum on your stomach. You couldn’t help but admire how sexy he looked as he threw his head back, and pulled at his cock until he was completely spent and your stomach and chest was covered in his cum.

Cody took only a second to collect his bearings before he got off the bed and walked into your refresher. You didn’t even attempt to more, knowing that it would be pointless, and you know what, you were comfortable just the way you were. You started to doze, but then you were pulled back awake by the feeling of something warm on your chest. Opening your eyes, you saw Cody gently cleaning you up, before throwing the rag into your hamper without looking and curling up behind you. Smiling as he wraps his arm around you, you hear him whisper your name before saying, “You looked absolutely ravishing tonight.”

“Hmm, good thing then that you were obviously hungry, Commander,” you slurred out right as you let sleep wash over you.

Captain Rex x Reader

So I have written quite a bit about Sub!Din, but what about some Sub!Rex pegging?? I thought about it, and now I can’t get the THOT out of my head…..

It had been your idea. Rex had been hesitant and thought on it for a while, but in the end he couldn't deny that the thought didn't turn him on. The idea of you taking control, of you taking his pleasure into your hands and him not having to worry about anything other than feeling what pleasure you offered him? Well, how could that not be appealing. If he was honest, Rex just wanted to be taken care of every once and a while, have all the his worries pushed aside and just let himself be over taken by pleasure provided by the person he loves most in the galaxy. Rex was very much a giver, but he more than wanted to be the receiver for once.

So when he had agreed, and your face lit up he knew immediately he was going to be in for a ride. You both planned and set aside a night that Rex had off so you both could take your time and he could recover the next day if needed.

The night started with a nice dinner that you had made, and an expensive bottle of Alderaan wine. The two of you talked and chatted the way you usually did, and when you finally made it to the bedroom, any nerves Rex had had were gone as you kissed him deeply and the two of you undressed. You stripped down to his favorite lingerie set, a set near identical in color to his armor, before pulling on the strap and grabbing the lube.

Before starting you kissed him gently and ran your hands over his stomach, skirting around his hard cock and running them over his hips teasingly. You made sure and asked him one last time if he was sure and when he nodded you said, "Ok, then you must promise to tell me to stop if its too much okay? I don't want to hurt you my brave soldier."

He chuckled, but agreed and then you were pressing a finger inside of him and it was odd at first, and it felt wrong, but then after you started thrusting it in and out and got a second finger inside as well Rex could help the small pleasurable grunt as you just barely brushed something that gave him sparks in his lower stomach. After hearing that you cooed at him telling him he was doing so good, and you leaned in for a kiss as you pressed into that spot more, swallowing the low moan he gave into your mouth.

By the time you had him stretched enough to comfortably fit the strap into him, Rex was flushed and his cock was leaking precut all over his stomach as it gave out a needy twitch. As you pressed into him, Rex couldn't help but think that he wanted this more often, especially loving the way you were giving him your full attention like this, praising him and giving him soft kisses. When you were full inside of him, you gave a small test thrust, brushing against that spot again and with how worked up he was Rex threw his head back with a muffled groan of your name. He knew you were smiling as you set up a nice steady pace. It was so much better than Rex had thought it might be, and he would have been embarrassed with how quick he felt his peak approaching, but he couldn't care in the moment, and when you asked him he just gasped out a, "need to cum," and finally, finally he felt you wrap your fingers around his cock and start tugging it in time with your thrust. He was a goner he knew immediately, those skillful fingers passed over his head, and when he frantically called out your name before painting his chest with his cum, he knew that this was one of the best orgasms he's ever had, and he was more than glad he had trusted you enough to give it to him.

When you pulled away he cringed, not liking the slide of the dido coming completely out, but he stayed laying on the bed as you cleaned him up and pulled on comfortable clothes before curling up with him. Once you both were settled for the night you asked, "So?"

"I think we can do it again in the future…"

"Good, I like taking care of you Rex. You deserve someone to look out for you every once and a while."

"Thank you, cyare….."

Din Djarin x Reader

Speaking of Din, I did have this THOT about comm sex/mutual masturbation with Din while he’s on a hunt…..

You hadn't been expecting the call, you really hadn't been expecting him to call, this late none the less. It had been two days since he disappeared over the horizon with the promise of coming back, and promising to call you when he had caught the bounty and was headed back to the ship. You hadn't been worried, two days was nothing compared to some of his other absences and you didn't mind getting one on one time with Grogu.

Tonight however, you had managed to get the child to bed early, he almost immediately passing out as soon as he was layed in his bed. You had meant to spend the evening fixing things or cleaning, but you had just found yourself wrapped in Din's spare cape, smelling his scent as you buried two of you fingers as deep as possible into your needy cunt. And that is exactly how Din's call had caught you.

When you had struggle do answer it, Din's first questions was if everything was ok, and you had to assure him everything was fine, making up the excuse that you were downstairs putting Grogu to bed. He had bought it, immediately perking up and saying, "So he is asleep then?"

"Yes...I can..I can go get him if you want to tal-"

"No...no, I called because I… kriff, cyare… I needed to hear you. Maker I've been so horny all day and all I can think of is that pretty pussy taking all of me in and squeezing me tightly."

As you flush at his words you hear him moan on the other end of the line, so breathlessly you ask, "Din? Are...are you touching yourself?"

You hear a grunt before he groans out, "Kriff, I needed to hear you, been...been trying to cum but I couldn't… fuck cyare, I wish you were here."

You hadn't even realized, but as Din talked, you hand had traveled back down to your still aching cunt and started rubbing circles on your clit, whimpering loud enough that Din could hear.

"Oh fuck, sweet...sweet.. are you touching yourself? God, tell me how good you feel right now? Fuck play with your nipples for me, I wanna hear you as you touch them." Moaning, you do as he says, and reach up and punch the hard peaks pressing against your shirt and your groan out his name before saying, "Fuck, Din. I feel so good, been needy for you all day and couldn't get rid of the feeling, marker above I wish your fingers were inside me right now."

The groan you receive is down right sinful, and at this point you can hear Din fucking into his fist over the comm. Matching his rhythm with your fingers on you clit, you let out whines and moans of his name before you felt the knot in your stomach tense up, and you moaned out, "Im gonna cum Din, fuck I'm gonna cum. Are you close, please tell me you're close, I wanna hear you spill into your fist as I soak your spare cloak."

You only get a needy whine back and the sounds of his fist speeding up. Then you feel your legs tensing up as you repeat Din's name over and over and over as you reach your peak, and as you fall into it, your lips transforming Din's name into a deep moan. You continue to play with your clit until you hear the tale tell heavy grunts that meant Din has finished and you sighed blissfully as you pulled your fingers away from yourself. You both were quite for a second, before you heard Din mumble, "Thank you cyare… I'm sorry I called so late."

You hummed for a second then you replied, "Its okay, you can make it up to me by using those talented fingers of yours on me when you get back," the only answer you receive is a long chuckle, before he said goodnight and cut the call.

Paz Vizsla x Reader

So kind of warning, this is a bit of a noncon, but like not really, idk?? I just want to put that warning there just in case, but if you wanna see if you wanna read -> Paz hears you masturbating and moaning his name, then he starts masturbating to the sounds you are making and to the thought of you....

Paz has been infatuated with you since you both were still young. He knew the second you walked into his life that he wanted you to be his riduur. The problem? Well the giant oaf was not the best with words unless it came to weapons, his work with the tribe, or when he was expressing his anger, anything else was a no go. Paz had tried in the past to work up the courage to tell you, but everytime he chickened out last second, and screwed up in someway much to his embarrassment, and Din's entertainment. To the point that Din was starting to keep a tally of just how many times he'd fucked up asking to just court you. He didn't want to imagine how bad it would be for you to marry him if you ever did end up at that point.

No you were perfect, and Paz was very much a flawed love sick puppy around you. So when the Armorer informed him of a supply mission he was being sent on, with you as his partner he nearly combust on the spot. There was no way in Coruscant that he would make it through a three day trip with just you without screwing things up for good. But he couldn't say no to his Alor, so he just went with it, even as each step to the ship was full of panic.

The trip to the planet, and collecting the supplies had been easy, it was the trip back that he found himself in a situation that he wished hadn't happened. It was late, you had gone to bed about an hour ago while Paz had stayed watching over the cockpit. Eventually though, Paz had to make the trip down to the fresher, but on his way back, when he passed your room he had frozen in place hearing the long drawn out moan of his name. He wished more than anything to be mistaken and having dreamed up the sound instead of listening in, but shortly after he had heard an unmistakable whimper followed by a muffled wet squelching, and he was just instantly hard in his flight suit.

Paz knew it was wrong, he knew he should move back to the cockpit and calm down, forgetting everything he'd heard, but he found himself frozen in place as he continued to eavesdrop. Carefully he reached for his vembrace, and tuned his helmet so that he could hear you better, while also turning off almost all sound that would come from his helmet.

As he listened to every whimper, Paz pulled off his cod piece and slipped his cock from his suit. Silently, he clenched his fist around the base, and let out a groan when he heard you breathily moan his name followed by a loud wet sound that he assumed was your fingers slamming up into that undoubtedly tight cunt. He groaned, and listened to the wet sounds coming from your fingers' pace, and he tried matching and following it the best he could.

As you continued to moan his name, Paz pressed his head to your door, pumping his cock as you picked up your pace. He felt almost like he could taste it in the air, how close you were, how your moans got higher pitched, how the wet slide of your fingers got louder, how you chanted his name like a prayer, and he felt guilty for intruding, he felt gross and like scum, but you sounded so perfect and he felt glued to the spot as well as he could not remember a time touching himself like this had ever felt so good. And when you came, he could hear the wobble in your voice as you continued to slide your fingers around your pussy to draw out you pleasure.

Then he was cumming with a roar and deep pants. Paz clenched his eyes shut milking his cock and cumming more than he could ever remember. The pleasure was so good and overwhelming that he did not notice when your door slid open, he did not notice the quiet gasp you gave as you heard a muffled gasp of your name from beneath his helmet, and he did not notice when a couple ropes of his cum shot out from his cock and landed on your bare stomach only a foot or so away.

When he did finally open his eyes though, he almost choked with how quickly he gasped in air as he saw you standing there, and as he panicked knowing you were going to react and push him away calling him a pervert.

Instead he was left, already getting hard again as he watched you innocently scoop up some of his cum that landed on you and stuck it under your helmet to lick off your fingers. Paz swore he died in that moment, and entering heaven was when you pulled him into the dark room and removed your helmet saying, "Paz, I cant wait any longer, please fuck me…."

Ezra (Prospect) x Reader

I have gone far too long without writing anything for Ezra and I need more of my poetic fool in my life, so here is Ezra and you taking a ‘break’ from working in the middle of a heavily forested planet, but it’s just fluff. Also, this is pre-movie, because I am lazy right now to do post-movie world-building or details….

You had to admit that your most recent job as a prospector had been decent and actually quite enjoyable. The planet you were stationed on was heavily wooded, but it had breathable air so suits weren’t required, and the climate was neither hot nor cold. Hell, even the team of twelve that you had been sent down with had been a refreshing change, no one had tried to betray anyone, no one had tried starting a mutiny, no one had even had to fire a single thrower shot. No, it had been peaceful, and as you wished you could stay here like this, happy and pretty much free for the rest of time.

Your ragtag crew had decided upon landing to split into six teams of two to cover more ground, hoping that by doing that you all would have a higher chance of a payout. Work had been steady and honestly, your partner was amazing at his job. He always knew exactly where to dig, and it always resulted in the biggest hauls of the day. It helped that he also was kind enough to walk you through some of his prospecting secrets, as well as just rambling on and on with his endearing accent about whatever came to mind. No, prospecting with Ezra as a partner was anything but boring, and you always found yourself laughing throughout the day as he told story after story, how true you didn’t know, but it didn’t matter to you because they were entertaining and made the days pass at a quicker pace.

Ezra never expecting anything out of you, only that you pulled your own and worked to your fullest extent. Past that he never expected you to carry or join in on the conversations, he was more than willing to fill the silence with his own words and dramatics, though whenever you did butt in with a comment you could feel and hear the giant smile that came across his face, especially if you asked a question about whatever he was talking about. The joy he got from the questions or interaction, lead you to believe that he was used to being ignored or tuned out. And whenever you did take over the conversation, he was always quiet and asking questions and leaving comments in between pauses, never once interrupting you.

The group was to be on the planet for half a rotation around its neighboring sun, and in that time, being surrounded by Ezra, you couldn’t help but start to fall for his easy smiles and charming words. You found yourself always enraptured with his words, and when you were speaking face to face, like during meals or breaks, you found it all but impossible to break from his gaze that held worlds of knowledge and stories. Your favorite times with the man was before bed each night, both of you having eaten and done your night routines, and as you lay in your cots in your two-person tent across from each other, Ezra always pulls out one of his worn books, and would read from their pages aloud to you. Allowing you each night to fall asleep happy with a smile on your face, listening to the soft voice of the man you knew for sure you would stay with had he only asked.

Then, during the last month of your job, you and Ezra found yourself far enough ahead in collecting gems that the two of you decided to take it easy on yourselves. Both of you were still working, but neither of you were working at the pace you usually worked at, instead opting for a more leisurely pace, wanting to take a bit of time to enjoy the moment before you inevitably had to move on.

Ezra, per usual, had been carrying on throughout the day and while you usually listened closely to him, you found yourself getting more caught up in the sounds of the nature around you, the hum insects and the songs of the birds, the wind rustling the branches of the numerous and large trees, the calls of the deer-like creatures that called the planet home. You had been so caught up in the sounds that you didn’t even notice Ezra stop talking, nor did you notice him approach you until he wrapped his arms around you and placed his head onto of your own from your seated position.

“You know, my little nymph, I think this may be one of the most rapturous planets I have been on in my travels, and I am not just saying that because of the planet itself. No, little nymph, you have made my time here so much more enjoyable and blissful than it would have been otherwise. Each day we near our end date, I loath to imagine parting from you. I know that my heart would not survive the separation, that I would fall into a depression without hearing your laugh each day or seeing that kind smile that I have only seen you show to me. Little nymph, if you at all would be agreeable to it, I would like to propose a partnership together that will last long after this job is done. I know it for a fact in my heart that I would live a thousand lifetimes to just be by your side. I would be your Orpheus and would walk straight to Hades and Persephone to ask for you back if I needed you too. My little nymph, what do you say,” the last part he almost asked hesitantly, like you even had a single thought of turning him down.

Tilting your head back, with a watery smile, so entranced by his words you couldn’t speak, you just grabbed his cheeks and pulled him down into a soft kiss. The kiss was unsurprisingly perfect, how could it not be when you were kissing a man who knew how to use his mouth anyway he needed. The kiss didn’t last long, only long enough to convey your happiness and your wants to be by his side as well. When the two of you parted, Ezra ran his nose softly along your hairline quietly as the two of you took the chance to soak in the moment.

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tanoraqui · 4 years

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hey, pls tell us about those 'kidnapping sizhui back to the burial mounds' aus? 'grave dirt baby'? 'speaker for the dead'? put me down as Scared! and! Intrigued!

Alright, so, the au I’ve mentally titled Speaker for the Dead is inspired by this fic series, which I think has great concepts but wildly insufficient follow-through on consequences

edit: er, this is gonna be the first of several parts. At least 3.

You know the Cluster in Steven Universe? Think of the Burial Mounds like that. Hundreds, maybe thousands of restless souls; some shredded, some simply lost; all neglected. Forgotten. Stewing in their own resentful energy and their exponential shared resentful energy, trapped in these abandoned lack-of-real-graves and forged over time into a nearly-single mass of rage and loss and unfinished business.

And then someone came along - well, was bodily dropped from a height - who could match them rage for rage and loss for loss, unfinished bloody business for unfinished bloody business. No one living and perhaps no one dead remembers if he said, “serve me, lend me your power, and I will carry your sentiments into the living world”, or if the Burial Mounds said, “serve us, wreak our fury and sorrow upon the living world, and in turn you will live and wield our power.” Or maybe it was an instant mutual recognition and agreement?

Well, we all know what happened next. And then he came back, their deathly messenger, and brought others, and for a brief while there was...life, inexplicably, in the land of the dead. Stubborn, hopeful life.

Then death swept through once more, from the outside this time, and the Burial Mounds took their diplomat into their embrace - but they’d gotten a taste for having their voice heard, now. The living far and wide had buckled under the force of their weeping rage, shared the burning sorrow of their thousand dead hearts. And there was one living thing left on their grounds sympathetic to their power...

But not because he shared their rage, loss, unfinished business - save in that he was young, and all his life was unfinished before him. And he was starting to understand loss, as the rest of his family died out of sight. Mostly he was sympathetic in the other way: kind and accepting, and even as a child disinclined to forget those abandoned by everyone else.

Well. Disinclined to forget intentionally. Because a three-year-old isn’t designed to be swarmed by the thousand and one voice(s) of the Burial Mounds, howling their rage and loss and determination to be heard.

A-Yuan would have died that day, if one ghost in particular hadn’t been too fresh to have sunk into the horde. Barely aware of his own death yet, save that it had hurt, the Burial Mounds’ previous master/messenger stepped in between the boy and the onslaught of the dead - and he was a warrior and defender, he always had been. It had served them well when their unfinished business was little more than the bloody spread of death.

It’s hard to say what exactly happened, then. Suffice to say, once the dest and resentful energy settled - and certainly by the time the cultivator in white arrived - the Burial Mounds had a representative to the living again, their roots sunk deep into his soul, and their representative had a guardian.

Lan Xichen was very carefully not wondering where his brother had gotten this child, not wondering at all - why question; there were far too many orphans, these days, and of course Hanguang-jun was noble enough to save one even while wounded to near death himself.

But the fact remained that the boy - A-Yuan, Lan Yuan now - was laced with incredibly persistent resentful energy. The healers had noticed it first and done their best to cleanse it, and the best of the healers of GusuLan was no small effort. At first, it had seemed to work - the darkness stopped wisping from his lungs when he coughed; the cough and fever themselves disappeared. But still the resentful energy remained, a patina of grime on an otherwise pure soul, and even when Lan Xichen himself played Cleansing, it only seemed to fade, not fully dissipate.

A-Yuan grew sick again, feverish and weeping, complained of hurting in the way of a small child too miserable to give clear answers. Lan Xichen stayed with him, playing Cleansing through the night, and by the wee hours of the morning the boy was positively listless - and still, under close inspection, resentful energy clung to him.

Lan Xichen closed his eyes and sat back to meditate for a moment. He had to collect himself.

His brother was asleep in the next room over. He’d been asleep since he got back from...somewhere, nearly collapsing off his sword with blood pouring from every whip mark and with a feverish child in his arms. His continued unconsciousness was partly at the order of the healers, partly of his own accord.

Multiple rules forbade superstition and the taking of omens, but Lan Xichen could feel in his heart that if the boy died, Lan Wangji wouldn’t wake. Or if he did, he would be...empty, the way he’d been for years after their mother’s passing. The way he’d been, to be quite honest, until Wei Wuxian walked into the Cloud Recesses.

Meditation didn’t help. Lan Xichen picked his [xiao] again and began the first notes of Cleaning, pouring every ounce of power he had into the music. On the bed, Lan Yuan whimpered weakly.

There was a rattling from his waist, where jade keys to all the wards of Cloud Recesses hung as a badge of office. An instant later, something yanked Liebing from his hands and flung it across the room, and with the same force shoved him backward. For an instant, he saw a figure standing above him, dark-robed and terrible.

Then it was gone, a mirage of the flickering lantern - but on the bed, A-Yuan had moved. Instead of lying flat, he was curled up as though leaning against something, clutching the air near his chest like something invisible had been placed there for him to hold. ...Hovering slightly above the mattress as though on a lap, and tired tears spilled from his eyes; he murmured something too quiet to hear.

(Cool hands picked A-Yuan up and held him; a hand brushed through his hair and a gentle voice said, “Shh, shh, A-Yuan, it’s alright. I’ve got you.” He looked up to see a pretty face and soft, sad smile, clad in robes that were dark and smelled of damp and blood.

“Mama?” he said blearily. It wasn’t right, but it was the closest word he had for how safe and loved and somehow refreshed be felt. He clutched the roughspun robes like they might vanish from his grip.

“Is that what we’re working with?” The man’s smile turned teasing, and he held A-Yuan a little closer. “Sure. I did birth you from my own body.”)

Lan Xichen picked himself up carefully, retrieved Liebing from beside the far wall and eyed the boy on the bed. Some presence watched him back - resentful, to be sure, but not like any spirit he’d ever felt. The tokens representing the wards against resentful energy and restless ghosts had both stopped shivering - because it was quiescent, or because it was already inside?

He needed answers, but at the same time, he very much needed to not have answers, because they might force him to a decision that his brother would never forgive.

Lan Yuan has never left the Cloud Recesses since he arrived. This wasn’t entirely abnormal - he’s only just six years old; there are few reasons for a child that young to go beyond the wards. There are excursions for hikes now and than, to introduce the children to nature, but something always interfered - illness, other duties or even punishments. There is the Spring Festival in Caiyi Town for which disciples of all ages are permitted one day free of all responsibility, including the youngest who are taken down with appropriate adult minders. But Lan Yuan always filially elected to use the special dispensation of this holiday to spend all day with Lan Wangji (per Rules 267-270, exceptions to seclusions were allowed for close family, at the Sect Leader’s discretion.)

In his third year of seclusion, Lan Yuan now age six and bubbling enthusiastically about the tales and treats he expected his friends to bring back from the festival, Lan Wangji had asked why he refused this holiday. Wide-eyed and pious, Lan Yuan had replied, “Because I want to spend time with Father!”

Sensitive to too-wide eyes, and too aware of his own shortcomings in the area of festivity and excitement, Lan Wangji had pressed to be sure that this was how he wanted to spend his day: sitting quietly inside, playing music, practicing reading stories of Lan Sect history?

Pressed, Lan Yuan admitted that his Mama said he shouldn’t go outside the boundaries of Cloud Recesses unless his father was with him.

It wasn’t the first time this “Mama” had come up. Lan Yuan’s Mama said it was not just permitted but required that he run shrieking up the path to the jingshi, to greet Lan Wangji by tackling him about the knees with gleeful laughter. Mama said it was okay if he didn’t eat dinner when he was supposed to, Lan Yuan insisted, because the food was “boring anyway.”

“Mama”, Lan Wangji was very, very sure, knew a song that Lan Wangji had composed at the age of sixteen and only ever played for one other person, because somehow Lan Yuan knew it to hum himself to sleep on restless nights. It was possible that he simply remembered it subconsciously from the times he couldn’t otherwise call to mind - music was like that. But when asked, he took on the overly cute look of an untrained liar rather than the dreadful uncertainty that slipped into his voice when questions arose of any time before the Cloud Recesses.

Lan Yuan had never stepped foot outside the Cloud Recesses since the day he’d been carried in, yet it was Lan Wangji who hesitated on the border, marked on this back hill by nothing more than a thin strip of bricks at the edge of the field.

“Rabbits!” Lan Yuan cried, and tugged him forward by the hand. “There are rabbits!”

“Xichen would not have misled you,” Lan Wangji said, amused.

“I know.” Lan Yuan immediately slowed down contritely, and looked up at him with confusion. “But there are no pets allowed in the Cloud Recesses.”

“The rabbits are not pets,” said Lan Wangji, perhaps more automatically defensive than the occassion called for. “They simply find this meadow enjoyable, as it is filled with clover and, coincidentally, sometimes scraps from the kitchens. Also - ” He gestured to the line of brick several feet behind them - “we are no longer in the Cloud Recesses.”

“Huh.” Lan Yuan cocked his head as though this was something he’d never heard before, rather than something he’d been explicitly told they were going to do, this first day of Lan Wangji’s release from seclusion. “It’s colder, in a nice way. And there’s a lot of - ”

He shut his mouth abruptly, as though someone had hurriedly told him to stop talking.

“Rabbits!” he shouted suddenly, for all appearances remembering thei presence with absolute delight. “Can I play with them, Father?” He pulled on Lan Wangji’s hand again. “Can we play with the rabbits?”

“You can and you may,” said Lan Wangji, and let his hand go.

Lan Wangji was itching now, burning, to draw his guqin. But of course this permission meant that he had to spend several minutes carefully coaching Lan Yuan on the way to quietly approach a rabbit without causing it alarm, how to offer some of the lettuce they’d brought and how to pick one up and hold it safely. Mitigating his impatience was the unabashed awe on Lan Yuan’s face when the first rabbit let him pet its ears, and his own gratitude at how several of the older rabbits seemed to remember him. (Or possibly they just recognized “man in white sitting quietly with lettuce”, and found it a more attractive invitation than “quietly bouncing six-year-old with lettuce.”)

But, fascinated though he’d been, Lan Yuan quickly lost interest in the rabbits. He pet them absently, but kept looking around as though more interesting things were happening in the clear air. A sudden wind whipped though the meadow, acrid with resentful energy, and he scooted to Lan Wangji’s side.

(”Everyone shut the fuck up!” Mama’s robes and hair lashed as resentful energy rushed out from him, pushing back the clamoring crowd of ghosts. His fists clenched and his eyes flashed red, and the scent of blood rose about him. “You will line up single-file to talk to A-Yuan, if and when I say you get to talk to him! Right now, he’s playing - oh, look, Hanguang-jun’s getting out his guqin, probably to play Inquiry. Go bother him!”)

Lan Wangji couldn’t stand it anymore. He settled Wangji on his lap and set his fingers for the strong opening chords of a general Inquiry, to announce his presence and summon any spirits within range - and paused, and leaned over to ask Lan Yuan, “Is your Mama here, now?”

“Ye - ” Lan Yuan squeezed his lips shut and shook his head. “I mean, no. Who’s Mama?”

“Lan Yuan,” Lan Wangji said sternly.

Lan Yuan shrunk, but didn’t break.

“Mama’s a secret,” he whispered fiercely. “It’s a rule, like on the wall.”

“I know.” They’d had this conversation before, and Lan Wangji had never pushed beyond this. Even a child was allowed secrets, and Lan Wangji was in forced seclusion, punishment for a crime he didn’t regret but would accept the consequences of nonetheless, in spirit as well as letter (fave for A-Yuan’s near-daily visits - but that was allowed.) Moreover, even from the secluded jingshi, someone might hear his Inquiry and have questions of their own, and- and what if he was wrong? The disappointment would be like death again.

But now he was not just out of his house but beyond the border of the Cloud Recesses for the first time in three years, far from any plausible earshot save the rabbits’ and soaking in sunlight that reminded him of a smile. Now, he thought he’d seen a figure in black for a split second when the cold wind blew. and suddenly the idea of being right and not knowing it was more horrific than any other outcome.

He swallowed a rasping, Please - unseemly, and unjust to burden a child with. He gathered parental authority about himself like a cloak and improvised, “Rabbits do not like secrets. It is rude to keep them in this, their home.”

Lan Yuan bit his lip, and Lan Wangji gentled his voice. “They will still be secrets away from the rabbits’ meadow, and there will be no consequences for any broken rules.”

“Oh!” Lan Yuan sagged against Lan Wangji’s side and let out a sigh like he was coming home at the end of a month-long night hunt. “Thank you, Hanguang-jun.” He bowed formally, from the seating position, in the direction of the greatest cluster of rabbits, which seemed unconcerned by the gathering resentful energy. “And thank you, rabbits, for your hospitality!”

He sat up, posture Lan-perfect, and pointed. “Mama’s there, pushing all the other ghosts into line. He says they have to talk one at a time, like in lessons. Are the ghosts in lessons, now? Is Mama a teacher, like Senior Feng and Great-Uncle?”

Lan Wangji, quite honestly, didn’t hear most of his son’s questions. He was too busy playing, perhaps more hesitant than he had ever played Inquiry in his life, Wei Ying?

He held his breath as the small light of a lost soul alighted upon the strings and plucked out, I am Ying Huang.

The breath seemed lost for good.

“It’s very nice to meet you, Miss Ying,” said Lan Yuan. “Um - ” He glanced at Lan Wangji and back at the space above the guqin. “Yes, I- we- Father can tell your husband that it wasn’t his fault - oh wow, you had a baby? What’s its name?” A pause. “That’s pretty! I bet she’ll be pretty, too - you are, so I bet she’ll be pretty just like her mother!”

The chatter, a six-year-old’s mix of earnestness and polite nothings mimicked from adults, reeled him back from that distant, breathless place. Inquiry was still in effect and the spirit continued to play, far more slowly than Lan Yuan responded, Tell Ying Chao it was not his fault, nor the baby’s.

“A-Yuan,” Lan Wangji managed. “This - Ying Huang. She is not your Mama?”

“No?” Lan Yuan looked utterly baffled. He pointed to somewhere directly ahead of him. “Mama is right there. He’s tall and wears black and has blood all over, sometimes, when he’s angry or sad. Miss Ying is here - ” he pointed at the space on the opposite side of the guqin - “and she’s short and has a greenish dress, and only only has blood on her - oh! Mama’s coming here now...”

Another spirit light solidified as it approached the guqin. This one was brighter and darker at once, strong and resentful - yet not...active in it. It simply was.

It hovered over the strings for a moment, quivering side to side like the eyes of a shamed person, before alighting and gently plucking out, Hello, Hanguang-jun.

There was no way to know that it was him, and yet... Lan Wangji was breathless again, but this time it felt as though he simply had too much inside him to have room for air.

His fingers moved over the strings without conscious direction. He thought he might be mouthing the name. Wei Ying.

The guqin language of Inquiry was necessarily limited; there were only so many combinations one could make of seven strings. There was only one clear affirmative, yes, and no formal or informal intonations.

Nevertheless, Wei Wuxian managed to express, Yeah. Lan Wangji could imagine him shrugging, giving a rueful smile. Sorry about the whole ‘Mother’ lie. It was his idea.

Understandable. The rhythms of Inquiry called for question and answer. Did you not birth him yourself?

“Mama is laughing,” Lan Yuan announced, as pleased as though he’d organized every part of this himself. He sat up straight, hands in his lap, every inch the proper Lan disciple. “Father, can- may we just talk, now, instead of using Inquiry? It’s much faster, and I can understand it.”

“I’m afraid I cannot understand Wei Ying any other way,” said Lan Wangji, feeling real regret, On the guqin, Wei Wuxian played, We really do need a better way - this is boring. But a way with less soul-binding resentful ghost fuckery.

(Another word that was absolutely not in the vocabulary of Inquiry. Wei Wuxian, as always, managed anyway.)

Three years of parenting practice had one of Lan Wangji’s hands protectively on Lan Yuan’s shoulder, the other darting across Wangji’s strings. What do you mean, soul-binding resentful ghost trouble?

Wei Wuxian’s soul moved back from the strings, fading until it was barely visible. Lan Yuan nodded and shifted until he was sitting beside the guqin, between them.

“Mama says don’t worry, A-Yuan is fine,” he told Lan Wangji seriously. “He says it’s a...” He narrowed his eyes in focus. “‘Severe but non-ma-lig-nant case of resentful energy inculcation and imprinting, with a side order of a little bit of passive possession. By the conjoined spirits of the Burial Mounds.”

Lan Wangji must been visibly horrified, because Lan Yuan looked worried as he leaned forward and patted his knee.

“It means I can talk to Mama and other ghosts,” he explained in his own words, “and they can understand living people better when I’m there.” His face twisted skeptically. “Because that’s special?”

“It is very special,” Lan Wangji confirmed, still reeling a little from “passive possession by the conjoined spirits of the Burial Mounds.” But if Wei Wuxian said it was fine, then it must be fine - he would, Lan Wangji was exquisitely sure, mask any danger to himself, but never to A-Yuan.

Still, his gaze flicked to beyond Wei Wuxian, where there was nothing but silence, sunlight, and idle rabbits sleeping, or gnawing down the grass - and, he was sure, still a line of ghosts apparently determined to speak to his son.

Wei Wuxian must have noticed the movement of his eyes, because Lan Yuan began reciting dutifully again: “Mama says that there’s fourteen more spirits here, not counting Ying Huang - who went back to everyone else, now. There’s a draw, he thinks, to A-Yuan, even if they don’t know con-scious-ly that he can talk to them. And, of course, the handsome - oh, the great Hanguang-jun, known master of Inquiry.”

"Will they accept Inquiry with myself,” Lan Wangji asked, “while Lan Yuan continues to play with the rabbits?”

Lan Yuan watched the space where Wei Wuxian was.

“’Lan Zhaaan,’” he repeated, less certainly. “’You’re too - sorry, Mama. ...Yes, Mama.” He turned back to Lan Wangji. “He says you’re a very good dad and he’s so glad you’ve learned so much since the street in Yiling.”

Lan Wangji felt his ears turn red, which was ridiculous. It wasn’t exactly a high bar, to have learned how to treat a child better than to stand in silent bewilderment while the child wailed at one’s feet.

Oh.

“A-Yuan. Do you remember...”

Lan Yuan shook his head, looking down in shame.

“That is fine,” Lan Wangji said firmly. “Do you wish to resume playing with the rabbits?”

Lan Yuan’s entire being seemed to brighten; if he’d been a rabbit himself, his ears would have stood straight in excitement. But he looked guiltily at the line of waiting ghosts.

(They were mostly common people of Gusu, ghostly echoes of clothing in rough cloth and dull colors. Many were bloody, from missing limbs or cut chests or more, others were simply pale and thin. One had the ghost of a cat draped stubbornly around her shoulders. The farther they got from him, the less clear they were to see, but sadness and yearning radiated from all of them, even the ones who scowled or glared, dark energy flicking around their forms like a shadow of the aura Mama could summon.

“Go on, A-Yuan,” said Mama, with one of his warm smiles that felt like home. “Your dad and I will handle the deathly supplicants, but we can’t play with the bunnies nearly as well as you will - but be careful! They might recognize that you’re part radish, and try to eat you!”)

Lan Yuan leapt to his feet with a grin, and bowed quickly to both of them. “I’ll be careful! Thank you, Mama; thank you, Father!”

“Go slowly,” Lan Wangji called as he darted off. “The rabbits - ”

The rabbits had already scattered in the face of Lan Yuan’s run, save for one particularly lazy old one with a whole leaf of lettuce to itself.

He will learn, Wei Wuxian said on the guqin, with a meaningless trill that Lan Wangji had no trouble translating as a smile.

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strawberry-skies-xx · 4 years

Text

you wingless thing

C H A P T E R O N E

summary: So, Geralt saves the terrorizing for the actual noble lord, and makes himself as unthreatening as possible. Contrary to popular belief, he isn’t a savage, bloodthirsty beast, and he’d rather this boy not be raised under that falsehood - though, it’s likely no matter what Geralt does that he will.

The boy’s voice stutters as he looks up at Geralt, words coming out too fast and heart beating rabbit-fast. “S-sir, Lord Erynd requests your presence.”

Geralt gets a contract in a town called Eristan, but it turns out the only monster there is human.

word count: 26516

tags: rape/non-con, dead dove: do not eat, geralt / jaskier, original female character, original male character, angst with a happy ending, angst, angst and feels, rape, past rape/non-con, implied/referenced rape/non-con, implied/referenced abuse, emotional hurt/comfort, psychological abuse, emotional abuse, emotionally repressed, fae jaskier, fae magic, hurt jaskier, torture, revenge, past torture, hurt/comfort, past abuse, jaskier whump, feral jaskier, creature jaskier, inhuman jaskier, eventual happy ending, love confessions, idiots in love, wing kink, homoerotic wing grooming

author’s note: this fic came to me in a dream and is now 26k so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

and on that note, any weirdness can be blamed on my subconscious, which is very wild and is lucky i can actually make its nonsense coherent enough for a fic.

scheduled monday, wednesday, and friday

main masterlist | story on ao3 | next chapter >>

It’s in the heat of summer that Geralt gets a contract in Eristan, a town buried deep in a forest named after it.

He’s heard rumors about this town - nearly everyone who travels within a two hundred mile radius of it has. The town isn’t small - it has some nobility of its own, and quite a few open fields within it - but the entirety of it is surrounded by a massive forest. Trade there is nearly impossible due to that, and some say that the forest itself is cursed, because it happens far too often that some people don’t make it out. Others say that the town is cursed; the streak of good and bad luck there is too extreme, too spontaneous to be normal.

Geralt doesn’t believe these rumors. Not in the way the townsfolk do, at least. Eristan is not cursed, and neither is Eristan Forest. There is simply a creature there, or a mage, which they have gotten on the bad side of. He doesn’t take it as superstition - for one, because he doesn’t feel any magic in the forest as he travels through it, and for two, he makes it out just fine, emerging on the outskirts of one of the fields on the edge of the town.

He stops at the treeline and scans the town. Short houses are scattered in clumps around larger mansions, supposedly belonging to the nobility, and vast open fields separate the clusters from each other. It’s a bit different than most established towns Geralt has come across, especially the fact that one of the noble mansions is atop a hill, and behind it, a stone spire, twisting up into the sky.

Geralt feels the hum of his medallion against his chest, and almost considers turning back right then and there. There’s no monster in this town; he knows that tower is the source of their troubles, and judging by its proximity to the noble mansion in front of it, he’s guessing the nobles are playing with forces they don’t understand. He wouldn’t be surprised if they managed to piss off some powerful creature, and that’s why the city is so spontaneous and extreme with its luck.

Geralt sighs and begins making camp right there. He really doesn’t feel like traipsing across an entire town with the weight of everyone’s judgmental stares on his back, and then have to deal with entitled nobility. Especially when that nobility probably has even more of a power complex for being able to keep up the illusion of capturing a powerful creature like the one in that tower.

He sleeps under the stars instead, with the fading warmth of the fire next to him and the even more faded warmth of his medallion humming against his chest - and then ends up traipsing across the entire town in the morning, waking up at the early light of dawn and packing up the little things he has.

The first cluster of houses he comes across is just as judgmental as he expected it to be. Geralt doesn’t miss the whispers following him, of Butcher and monster and freak; the names have been following him like a shadow his entire life. The only difference is there’s one more added on. He sighs and keeps riding on Roach, through the second and third cluster of houses.

It’s nearing sunset when he finally makes it to the fourth, just beneath the hill the noble’s mansion is built on, with dust in his clothes and Roach panting beneath him. He dismounts Roach and stables her in an inn that looks only slightly more promising than most of the others, because the stable boys, at least, only look at him with the customary fear of a Witcher, and not the heightened fear of the Butcher.

He swings the inn door open, mentally bracing himself against the onslaught of noise, and walks inside. The inn slowly goes quiet as he does, the sharp scent of fear stinging Geralt’s nose and the quiet hush of whispers reaching his ears as he makes his way to the innkeeper and negotiates for a room.

It takes at least ten minutes, and it’s the smallest room the inn has at too high a price, but Geralt manages to get it and he pays for the room before walking directly upstairs to it. He’s not in the mood for drinking, not when he’s going to be dealing with nobility in the morning, and he doesn’t want to push his luck either. It’s unlikely he’d get a drink in this establishment anyway, when it was as hard as it was to get a room.

He sighs as he sets his swords down and strips off his armor, looking around the room. There isn’t a bath drawn, and Geralt isn’t sure that the inn would provide him one. He figures that it’s just dust anyway, and he’d rather go to bed slightly dusty than get thrown out of the inn or deal with harsh words for wanting a luxury such as bathing. At least he’s not covered in monster guts, though in that memorable occasion, he did get a bath in the end, if only because the innkeeper got too many complaints about the smell.

He falls into the bed in the corner once he finishes and drifts into sleep quickly, ignoring the increased pulsing hum of his medallion against his chest.

Geralt’s eyes snap open just as footsteps stop outside his door and three loud, resounding knocks sound on the wood. He sits up in bed, a quick scent of the air bringing in lavender, exotic spices, and some more expensive smells. There’s no sweat, dirt, or ale on any of Geralt’s sudden company outside his door.

Nobility then. Geralt sighs, mentally lamenting the fact that he hasn’t even had breakfast yet, and stands up, walking to the door and swinging it open with an unimpressed expression on his face.

There’s three of them - one young boy whose fear-scent makes Geralt’s nose burn, and two guards who do better to hide it, but whose heartbeats still ratchet up a notch at the sight of him.

The boy falters at the expression on Geralt’s face, brown eyes wide and terrified, so he softens his face slightly. He isn’t here to terrorize the pager boy this entitled noble lord hired, and it’s not the boy’s fault that they came to get Geralt at the crack of dawn.

So, Geralt saves the terrorizing for the actual noble lord, and makes himself as unthreatening as possible. Contrary to popular belief, he isn’t a savage, bloodthirsty beast, and he’d rather this boy not be raised under that falsehood - though, it’s likely no matter what Geralt does that he will.

The boy’s voice stutters as he looks up at Geralt, words coming out too fast and heart beating rabbit-fast. “S-sir, Lord Erynd requests your presence.”

Geralt sighs and flicks a glance at the guards. It most definitely is not a request, not from nobility, so he has no choice but to accept. Unless he’d rather be drawn into the political mess of a lord’s anger, which, he’d really rather not.

“Ten minutes,” he rumbles, and doesn’t wait for a response before he turns around and goes to get his armor.

The guards don’t look too happy with him when he walks back up to them fully dressed, but he can’t be made to give a fuck. If they want to come get him at the crack of dawn, then they can wait for him to get his shit together.

The walk to the noble’s mansion is quietly entertaining for Geralt, who watches the guards hide their panting and racing heartbeats, while he’s relatively unaffected by the uphill walk. The pager boy walks just ahead of Geralt and the guards, heart still racing and fear still stinging Geralt’s nose.

Of course, he shouldn’t have expected the people at the keep to be any less judgmental than his very unhappy escorts. As he’s led through the gate, he gets barely a nod of acknowledgment from the guards there, and he can feel the curious gazes and hushed whispers of the various landscapers occupying the front courtyard.

The main entryway of the noble’s manor is grand, including a spiral staircase in the center and clean white marble floors, the whole space made airy and open by the soaring ceilings carved with intricate patterns. Servants dressed in plain clothes flit about through doorways, some sparing curious glances at Geralt and some paying him no mind. The pager boy, straightening slightly as he’s in his element now, leads Geralt through one of the doorways to what appears to be a lavish front room, covered in soft, expensive rugs and couches and smelling almost overwhelmingly like flowers.

The floral perfumes almost hide the still-present scent of fear from the pager boy, and the natural scents of the guards. The perfumes are so strong that it puts Geralt on edge, having his sense of smell inhibited like this, but he tries to stay as relaxed and calm as possible in the guards’ presence, and takes a seat on one of the couches at the boy’s request before he hurries away out of sight.

The guards take up position behind him, against the wall - and that sets off more alarm bells in Geralt’s head. His fingers twitch from where they’re hanging between his thighs, and he focuses on the weight of his swords leaning against his calf, and the fainter, natural scents of the guards beneath the perfumes.

He doesn’t have to wait long before there’s the sound of footsteps and the floral scent increases, drifting in from the doorway as a man he can only assume is Lord Erynd enters and sits down on the couch across from Geralt.

Erynd is dressed in an expensive suit, with an overly generous application of that damned floral perfume floating around him in an almost suffocating cloud, and wearing the kind of smug arrogance Geralt only sees on nobles who think they are better and more entitled than everyone and everything around them. He sighs internally, really not up to dealing with nobility, but not exactly having a choice.

“Witcher,” Erynd starts, a note of harshness to his voice that solidifies Geralt’s assumption of this lord’s attitude, “I assume you came because of the contract one of my townspeople posted in a nearby village?”

Geralt nods. “You’ve been having bad luck lately - and really good luck.”

The lord inclines his head in acquiescence, but there’s a strange air of calm about him, as if he doesn’t care. It sets off distant alarm bells in Geralt’s head, but he stays still and quiet and keeps listening. “Yes, but the cause is of no concern to you. Your services are not required in this situation, because I have it more than handled,” Erynd says.

Geralt frowns, suspicion immediately seeping into his tone and his eyes narrowing as he holds Erynd’s eerily calm gaze. “Handled how?”

Erynd gives a small, pleased smile, which only sets Geralt more on edge. At this point, he’s on a hair-trigger, fingers twitching against his thigh and the weight of his swords leaning against his ankle a comfort.

“I would be delighted to show you, Witcher,” he says, all smug arrogance, “I’m sure you will appreciate my mastery of these beasts.” His tone drops lower, almost secretive - and there’s the catch. “I only ask that you keep this between us.”

Geralt pauses, frown still in place, considering his options. It’s very likely that this is a trap - if Erynd has some creature imprisoned in that tower like Geralt thinks he does, he knows he is dangerously close to being a monster himself, and may find himself the next monster in Erynd’s supposed collection.

Or, it’s something entirely different. But either way, it won’t work out well for him to refuse nobility.

Geralt smooths out his frown and schools his expression into something neutral. He can’t find out what Erynd is hiding if he shows displeasure towards it - that can be saved for later, when he dismantles whatever the lord has happening with the monsters, or when he is slashing his way out of being added to the lord’s collection.

“As you wish,” he replies instead, voice steady and neutral, and tries to shove down his uneasiness at the resulting sickly sweet smile on the lord’s face.

next chapter >>

#the witcher netflix #geraskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier

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kittykatz009 · 4 years

Text

Mocha Choco Latte: A KiriBaku fanfic

My first MHA fic, and it’s going to be a multi-chapter KiriBaku one! A special thank you to my lovely wives @wingsonghalo and @ittybittytoostormy, and my dear friend @musics-lifes-record. This insanity wouldn't have been possible without your constant encouragement. A special thank you to Wing for helping me with edits <3 I love you lots, babe Title: Mocha Choco Latte Pairing: Kirishima/Bakugou (with background Izuku/Ochacco) Rating: T, mostly for language Wordcount for chatper 1: 3,039 Summary: Katsuki hadn't anticipated spending his senior year of University working at a cafe, but who was he to complain when it paid the bills? Besides, what could be the worst thing that could happen? Also available on: AO3

Chapter 1: Caramel Mocha Frappuccino

If there was one thing that Bakugou Katsuki despised, it was people. Specifically, idiotic people. Like the ones who came in with a stupidly complex order that he had to repeat back twice to make sure he got each and every instruction right. Or the ones who would watch him make their drink, and the moment he would finish it, they would mention that they needed a milk alternative because god forbid they say something when ordering, or when they saw him grab the container of milk. And don’t even get him started on having to take their food orders; that was a new level of idiocy he hadn’t believed could be possible. Whoever said the customer is always right should be kicked in the face. He swore that this cafe was a beacon for idiots, and here he was, front and center, having to cater to their every whim.

“Kacchan, you’re scaring the customers again,” Midoriya Izuku commented as he approached the register to clock in.

“Can it, nerd. It’s not my fault that some people can’t get their order right the first time they order it,” he grouched, throwing a glare at the woman at the end of the counter who was typing away at her phone, her foot tapping impatiently as she waited for him to give her her drink.

“Still, you can try to be nicer to the customers. You are the cashier, after all.”

“And whose fault is that? I was perfectly happy being the cook until you fumbled because you were geeking out and spilled hot coffee all over the CEO of Nighteye Records.”

“Oh come on. I’ve apologized for that enough. You know I didn’t mean to! I just can’t help getting excited when I meet celebrities,” he complained as he shrugged on his apron.

“You’re lucky he didn’t try to get you fired, dumbass,” he scoffed, eyes rolling. He grabbed the cup from the steamer, the extra hot almond milk frothing, and quickly poured it into the to-go cup, mixing it in with the mocha syrup and the three decaf espresso shots, before popping a lid on the cup because heaven forbid he make the mistake of adding the whipped cream.

“Here,” he said, placing the drink on the edge of the counter aggressively. The woman huffed, throwing her phone in her purse before she scooped the cup up.

“About time. And would it kill you to be a little more appreciative of your customers? After all, you were the one who messed up my order in the first place. I can just take my business elsewhere, you know?” The challenging smirk she wore as she took a sip of her drink made Katsuki’s blood boil.

“Alright, listen here you b-”

“We are so sorry about the mistake! Please, have this cookie on the house!” Izuku interjected quickly, forcing himself between the seething Katsuki and the lady, thrusting a pastry bag in her direction.

“Well, at least ONE of you has manners. Thank you.” She snatched the bag out of his hand and stomped out of the store. Katsuki was fuming; how DARE she treat him like he was the idiot when she was the one who couldn’t get off her phone for more than five seconds to order her damn drink with the proper milk? He hoped she enjoyed the word “KAREN” scrawled across her cup. He turned toward Izuku, eyes narrowing.

“Quit it, Deku. I had that under control.” Izuku gulped, taking a step back from Katsuki, throwing his hands up in front of him in defense.

“You were about to call her a bitch, Kacchan. I had to do something. Sato’s told you if he gets any more complaints about you being rude to the customers, he’ll have to fire you.” Katsuki sighed, shoulders sagging as he realized just how right his friend was. He couldn’t afford to get himself fired, not with rent coming up soon. He was sure that Deku would help him out if that did happen, but damnit, his pride wouldn’t allow freaking Deku of all people to be the one to help him out of a bind like that, even if he was his roommate.

“Whatever. Anyway, Batteries for Brains dipped early, so I’m glad you showed up. Wasn’t looking forward to trying to run both the line and the register on my own. He should be lucky that all the orders so far have been for drinks and pastries, otherwise I’d have to kill him.”

“Kaminari’s a good guy. He probably had a very valid reason for leaving early,” Izuku said, heading toward the kitchen.

“Hopefully to tutoring. That guy’s math is atrocious,” he griped, counting the drawer down for shift change. “Oh yeah, pastry girl asked about you,” he called over his shoulder, smirking as he heard Deku run into the door frame, a muffled swear falling from him.

“U-Uraraka? What did she have to say?” he asked nervously, rubbing the red spot on his forehead.

“Wanted to know what you were up to this weekend. Told her to ask you herself.”

“Kacchan! That’s so rude!” Izuku whined, grabbing the pickup order ticket that printed off, scanning over it before grabbing one of the to-go cups to scrawl the instructions on it.

“What? I gave her your number, you moron. I’m not that heartless.” He finished counting down the drawer, noting that that idiot Kaminari short changed him, and took the cup from Izuku, whose face was as red as one of Sato’s cherry danishes.

“W-why would you do that?” he stammered, grabbing the next ticket and moving to the pastry case.

“Because clearly you’re not going to be the one to make the first move. You’ve been pining over her like an idiot since we first started here. I still can’t believe she caught you when you tripped on that drink that you spilled. You could barely stutter out the words ‘thank you’; do you really think I expect you to be able to ask her out?”

“I guess you’re right,” he sighed. “Thanks for having my back, Kacchan.”

“It’s whatever. You owe me one,” Katsuki grunted out as he sprayed the whipped cream on top of the drink before fitting the lid on it snugly. He placed the finished drink next to the pastry bag on the pick up rack and went for the next order. “Here, this one needs actual food. Get out of my space, loser.” Izuku took the ticket with a smile and went to the small kitchen, humming as he got to work.

Time passed idly, customers trickling in—some passing through for pick up, others dining in—and Bakugou was counting down the minutes until he was off. The dinner rush had come and gone, leaving the two to focus on the pre-closing procedures in between orders. Which left Katsuki with time to let his mind wander.

Working in a cafe wasn’t how he anticipated his senior year of university going, but it paid the bills. The place had a nice homey quality to it—the mismatched chairs and tables scattered about the dining area paired with various paintings and prints from local artists really made the ambiance. There was a small section by the register that displayed various knick knacks made in the community that were for sale, though Katsuki hated dealing with those purchases since there was a lot of paperwork involved to make sure that the right artist got their money. The real money maker of the cafe laid in the pastry case, though. Sato’s confections were famous throughout Akihabara; many locals supported the young business man who had a heart of gold and sweets to match. And Sato wasn’t a bad guy to work for. Quite the opposite, in fact; he paid his employees well and was very flexible with their schedules since most of them attended University of Akihabara, which is how Katsuki got roped into the evening shift. Not that he was complaining about that—it was generally a quiet time and he didn’t have to deal with as many stupid customers. Overall, it wasn’t a bad gig.

Katsuki had just finished breaking down the decaf espresso machine (good riddance—it was an abomination to mankind) when the bell at the front door jingled, announcing the arrival of a new customer. He took a deep breath to prepare himself for this onslaught of stupidity. The last patron had argued with him until they were both red in the face about the cafe having diet whipped cream, even though he assured him that the cafe never had any to begin with. Eventually, he was able to convince him that the drink was perfectly delicious without a topping, and sent him on his merry way, all the while wishing he could punt kick that pint-sized asshole across the room.

He exhaled and made his way to the register, finally looking up and blinking in surprise as he took in the appearance of the customer waiting on him. This guy looked ridiculous—his obnoxiously bright red hair was spiked up and Katsuki was sure that this guy was trying to emulate either a hedgehog or a porcupine. His choice of clothing, or lack thereof, was as disastrous as his hair. His chest was fully exposed and the only sort of covering his upper half had was some sort of weird cropped red and black jacket. Black pants tucked themselves into hideous muddy-red boots, but what really took the cake was not the weird open-mouth face mask that he wore; instead, it was the piss-poor attempt at red chaps that were held together by a gaudy-looking R-shaped belt buckle. He looked like he walked right off the page of some sort of shitty manga that he was sure Deku would read. It wasn’t like they didn’t get cosplayers in the cafe, because they did all the time, but this was surely the most bizarre one he had seen. The guy smiled at him, and Katsuki had to fight the urge to roll his eyes. Stupid, over-friendly cosplayers.

“Welcome to Sugar Rush. What do you want?” he asked gruffly, ignoring the softly chastising “Kacchan” coming from the kitchen. He couldn’t help it—he had had his fill of idiots for the day and his feet were fucking sore.

“Uhh,” the redhead eloquently replied, craning his neck to look at the menu. Clearly this guy was more brawn than brains, in Katsuki’s most humble opinion. Miraculously, he kept himself from tapping his fingers against the countertop in annoyance while the other scanned over the hand-written list of drinks, his eyes finally lighting up in delight as he settled on one.

“I would like one of the caramel mocha frappuccinos please!” he said with a smile and Katsuki noted that the guy even had put in false teeth; the ones grinning back at him were sharp and dangerous looking.

“Size?”

“Um, large?” he replied, though to Katsuki, it seemed like he was uncertain.

“Is this for here or to go?” Katsuki was praying that the guy said to go because if he had to wipe down the lobby one more time before they closed, he was sure he was going to lose his mind.

“To go, unfortunately,” the cosplayer laughed, handing his card over as Katsuki gave him the total. “Oh yeah, don’t you need to ask my name?” he asked, putting the card away along with his receipt.

“Nah, I’ve got it. Just go to the end of the counter,” he replied, scribbling on the cup then turning to get the ingredients, effectively cutting off any conversation. He swore he heard the cosplayer mutter something that sounded suspiciously like “of course you do ” under his breath, but Katsuki refused to ask. As he stood up, milk in hand, he was met with disapproving green eyes peering at him from over the kitchen window.

“Not a word, Deku. And I swear to god, if you come out here, I’ll kill you,” he threatened while measuring out the milk. Izuku sighed, shaking his head and disappeared from Katsuki’s line of sight, which he much preferred right now. He poured the milk in the blender, added the pumps of mocha and caramel syrup, and tossed the ice in before popping the top on the machine and turning it on. Katsuki caught himself checking out the cosplayer out of the corner of his eye while he waited for the drink to be blended perfectly. The guy was sort of cute, he mused. Kind of in that endearing puppy dog sort of way as he hummed along to the shitty pop music that was playing on the speakers while he scrolled his phone. It was ridiculous, however, that he would even be thinking about how attractive the guy was—he was sure that he would never see him again. That, and he was nothing more than a customer; Katsuki had no business daydreaming about how nice it would be to feel those arms wrap around him, crushing him to that stupidly beautiful chest that was on display for all to see. Nope, not at all. It was hopeless. Just a fleeting crush that would never come to fruition.

A crash from the kitchen followed by an exclamation of “oh holy shit ” snapped him out of his delusional thoughts, and he huffed out an angry sigh. Leave it to Deku to break something once again. He emptied the contents of the blender into the to-go cup, adding a swirl of whipped cream to the top before securing the lid to the cup with a soft pop. He felt a smirk start pulling at his lips as he turned around.

“Large caramel mocha frappuccino for a ‘Shitty Hair,’” he called out, causing the cosplayer to look up from his screen, blinking in bewilderment as he looked between Katsuki and the drink that was on the counter. The reaction was priceless, if Katsuki could admit that to himself, and it was totally worth the look on the cosplayer’s face and the shrill “Kacchan ” yelled at him. What Katsuki wasn’t expecting, however, was the cosplayer to start laughing, a deep rumbling sound that sent shivers running through him. God, why was this guy’s laugh even attractive? It wasn’t fair.

“Oh shit, that was great!” the cosplayer replied once he was finally able to catch his breath, wiping tears out of his eyes while reaching for the cup. “I haven’t laughed that hard in ages. Have a great day, man!” he exclaimed, placing some coins on the counter as a tip before grabbing a straw and leaving the cafe. Katsuki was baffled at the guy’s reaction—most people didn’t thank him for insulting them. He shook his head, pocketing the yen, and turned to see a heaving Izuku with his hands on his knees like he had just ran a marathon frantically looking between him and the now closing door.

“Kacchan! You can’t call people names like that! Do you even know who that was?” he cried.

“Uh, just some shitty cosplayer, duh?” Katsuki rolled his eyes at Izuku’s theatrics, grabbing the blender and heading to the sink to rinse it out.

“A cosplayer?? No! That was Kirishima Eijirou, Kacchan!” Izuku replied and Katsuki dropped the blender in the sink, whipping around to face him.

“Kirishima Eijirou, as in the fucking actor?” Katsuki could feel a ball of dread curling up in his stomach. He was hoping that Deku was wrong, but that nerd knew celebrities like the back of his hand. The exasperated look he got in return was more than enough to confirm his worst fears.

“Yes that Kirishima Eijirou, Kacchan. Oh my god, I can’t believe you called him Shitty Hair. What were you thinking?” he asked, pulling at his hair.

“In my defense, I thought he was just some shitty cosplayer! What the hell was that get up, anyway? God, it was awful.”

“Oh my god, you’re kidding me, right? He’s currently filming for the live-screen adaptation of the Red Riot comics. This has been a highly anticipated movie from director Toyomitsu Taishiro that’s been in the works for the past four years. All Might productions picked it up and they finally just got the casting settled last year and were able to move forward with the filming process. And, he’s the main character. Oh my god, my best friend just called the actor for one of my favorite comic book heroes Shitty Hair. Oh my god, what if he gets the cafe shut down? What will we do about rent money? I’m sure mom could help me out, but still…” he trailed and Katsuki had to take a deep breath.

“Calm down, you dork. I highly doubt he’s going to get the cafe shut down. Hell, he seemed to have a good laugh over what I said. Besides, if he was upset with anyone, it would be me, not you. So don’t overwork your brain over there with things that won’t happen.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” Izuku exhaled, visibly calming. “I still can’t believe you did that, though.”

“Are you ever going to shut up about it?” Katsuki groaned, going back to cleaning the blender out.

“Only when you decide to stop holding you being a barista over my head because of the Nighteye incident,” he laughed, walking out to the lobby to lock the door and turn the ‘open’ sign over to ‘closed.’

“Fair enough. Now, let’s get this shit done quick. My bed is calling my name.” They continued with their closing procedures, and as Katsuki was counting down the drawer for the night, his thoughts were haunting him. He just happened to have the shittiest luck, he determined. Not only was he crushing on a customer, but the customer was an actor. An actor who he happened to insult. Holy fuck. Great job, Katsuki. Way to fucking go. As they finished closing and were leaving the shop, he decided that it didn’t matter. This would just live to be an embarrassing tale that he would make sure he and Deku took to their graves. It’s not like he would ever see the guy again, after all.

Thanks for making it to the end of chapter one of my very first BNHA fic! Hope it was to your enjoyment. Please feel free to leave a review and let me know how I did! Chapter 2 should be coming soon <3

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artificialqueens · 5 years

Text

Beneath the Amber Moon, Part 7 (Galactica AU Group Fic) – TheDane & Veronica

Heyyy!! Welcome to Part 7 of “Beneath the Amber Moon,” a group fic set in the Galactica Universe. Click here for previous chapters.

We hope you’re enjoying it! Let us know what you think!

Summary: Violet gets a check-up, Fame gets birthday shots, and Courtney gets a visit.

/////

“Violet.”

Violet recognised the voice, the baritone the only reason she wasn’t fully freaking out as a hand oh so gently touching her cheek.

“Violet, wake up darling.”

Violet opened her eyes, only catching a glimpse of blue before she had to close them again, wincing in pain. The sun was too bright, the light almost white with it’s blinding.

“Don’t move too much.” Violet felt Sutan move her head slightly, a shirt getting shoved under her to give her support, Violet briefly trying to remember what brand Sutan had worn. “You just fainted.” She really hoped it wasn’t his vintage Ralph Lauren.

“Are we still on the yacht?”

“Yes.”

Violet swallowed, her throat painfully dry.

“How long was I out?”

“Only for a minute or two.” Sutan was still holding Violet’s face, the man quickly calling for someone to bring some water.

Violet really hoped everyone wasn’t looking. That would be beyond embarrassing, her stomach still curling with shame whenever she remembered that Adore had seen her throw up the day before. Courtney was somewhat okay, and for a minute Violet almost hoped the blonde was near. They had seen each other in so many degrading and frankly horrible positions that Courtney was one of the few people Violet rarely felt ashamed around.

“How are you feeling? Did you hit your head?”

Violet shook her head slightly, holding her breath for a moment as she waited, but thankfully nothing hurt. Violet heard voices, someone, maybe Fame, giving Sutan a glass of water.

“Try to sit up, sweetheart.”

Violet nodded, opening her eyes, her cheeks instantly going red as she saw that she was surrounded not only by Sutan and Fame, but also Raja, Juju, Alaska, Courtney, and worst of all. Bianca. Sutan helped her up, his hand on her back keeping her secure as she took the water, slowly sipping at it.

“Anything hurt?”

Violet took a deep breath, slowly focusing on each part of her body, one limb at a time like she had learned at the Academy whenever she had taken a nasty fall. Start from the top, and work your way done.

“I’m fine.”

“What happened?” Alaska looked worried, the blonde often being so much kinder than Violet felt like she deserved.

“I think...” If Violet was honest, she had no idea. “It must be heat stroke...” It was the only thing she could think of. It had happened once before, in Indonesia, Sutan, Raja, Raven and her caught in a jeep for almost an hour because a Komodo Dragon had blocked the road.

“Let’s get you to our room, okay?”

Violet nodded, beyond thankful that Sutan was going to take her away from it all.

What she didn’t notice however, was Fame, who was walking away decisively, making a beeline for the crew for the number to the nearest hospital.

/////

Sutan sat up, surprised when he heard a knock on the door. He wasn’t expecting anyone, though Raja had sent him a look when he had walked off with Violet, Sutan quickly but resolutely declining his twin’s offer for help. He knew Violet, and he knew that what she needed most of all right now was rest and to be alone, though he desperately wished he could smoke, Violet laying on the lounge chair of their balcony, slowly drinking the water had forced on her.

He squeezed Violet’s thigh, getting up and walking over to the door, opening it with a puzzled expression.

Fame pushed inside, followed by Bianca and a man that Sutan didn’t recognize.

“Where is she?”

“What the hell is going on?” Sutan asked, relieved that he’d closed to door to the balcony to protect Violet from this onslaught.

“This is Doctor Dias.” Fame gestured vaguely. “I had him helicoptered in. He’s going to check on your girlfriend.”

“Why?”

“Because something is obviously wrong, Sutan.”

“Violet already told us it was a heat stroke-”

“It’s 75 degrees! It wasn’t heat stroke!”

“She probably knows her body better than you do, Fame.”

“You are such an idiot sometimes,” Fame said. “Just let the doctor check her over.”

“Fine.” Sutan threw up his hands. “He can talk to her, but you both need to leave. Especially you-” he pointed at Bianca. “What are you even doing here?”

Bianca shrugged, sitting down on the bed. “Blondie asked me.”

“She speaks Spanish,” Fame explained, and Sutan realised Fame probably expected Bianca to translate for the doctor.

“Bianca?” Sutan rolled his eyes. “I’d say barely.” Sutan was growing more and more tired, a headache threatening to break through. Fame had a tendency to oversell Bianca, attributing more skills to their shared friend than she deserved, and normally he didn’t mind, but right now it was just.. bad. “You do realise that this is Brazil, right? They don’t even speak Spanish here.”

“Potato, potahto,” Fame waved her hand. “Where is Violet?”

“Sir, if I could just see the patient,” Dr. Dias ventured kindly. In perfect English, Sutan was sure to note.

“Yes, sorry about that, I just need to-”

“This is a nice room, Tan.” Bianca lay down on the bed, stretching languidly. Sutan wanted to punch her, her smug satisfaction for once not as endlessly amusing as he usually found it, but instead infuriatingly annoying. “Not as nice as my room upstairs, but pretty good. Have you tried the-”

“Get out! Both of you, now!”

Fame opened her mouth, aghast, a hand pressed dramatically to her heart.

“Sutan!”

“You both know how uncomfortable Violet will be with this entire situation.” Sutan didn’t normally raise his voice, especially not at these women, but they were dancing on his very last nerve. “This isn’t the time for either of you to be petty bitches.” Sutan pinched the bridge of his nose. “Thank you for calling the doctor, I’m sure he’ll do his job just fine without your supervision. So please leave. Now.”

“Come on, blondie,” Bianca said, pulling Fame to the door. “Party’s over. Tan found his balls.”

“Did you hear him shout at me?” Fame asked her, indigent, and Bianca laughed.

“Yeah, we kinda deserved it…”

Sutan let out a relieved sigh as the door shut behind them.

“Sorry about that, doctor. Do you mind waiting a moment while I talk to my girlfriend? I want to make sure she’s okay with all this.”

/////

“How are you feeling?”

“Okay...” Violet sighed. The doctor had taken her vitals, drawing blood, asking routine questions and noting down her answers, and for the first time, Violet was genuinely scared. She had heard the entire argument through the door, Sutan standing up for her so fiercely she was sure she would have jumped him if they had been alone. She had wanted to believe it was a heatstroke, but no matter how little she liked it, Fame was right. It wasn’t normal for her body to act like this.

“Come lie with me?” Sutan obliged straight away, Violet curling into his arms in the fresh linen on their bed, his hand running up and down her back, broad strokes and the sound of his heartbeat calming her down.

“I’m sure you’ll be just fine lovely eyes.” Sutan kissed her hair.

/////

Adore found the room first. A fully-stocked bar tucked away on one of the lower decks, with a dance floor, epic sound system, strobe lights and a fabulous disco ball. So she and Courtney began to blast pop songs from their college days, those long ago times of the early 2010s.

Karl arrived next, attracted by the delicate melody of Britney’s “Work Bitch,” immediately taking over as DJ, followed by Jinkx and Alaska, who seemed like they were in the mood to just let go and have some fun after the stress of chasing Adore down all day. Raven, never one to be left out, came soon after, dragging Juju along with her. Detox and Raja joined as soon as their kids were asleep, quickly getting into the festive spirit, shouting out song recommendations to Karl.

By the time Bianca and Fame walked in, the party was in full swing. Drinks flowing, dancing, shrieking laughter. Fame was just about to scold her friends for the raucousness - there were people trying to sleep, she was sure - but then Karl spotted her and screamed, “BIRTHDAY GIRL!”

The entire room erupted into cheers, pulling Fame onto the dance floor, giving her drinks and lavishing her with all the attention she could ever dream of. She laughed and let Raja spin her, supposing that the lecture could wait awhile.

What was the harm of a little noise, anyway?

Bianca watched her friend twirl and dance, smiling. She was glad that Fame was having a good time. Firstly, because it was her birthday and she deserved to have fun and second, because then the rest of them could relax. As Patrick always said, happy wife, happy life, and things were simply easier and better when Fame was happy.

“Hey! Need a refill?” Adore held up a bottle of tequila, giggling.

“I’m still working on this one, thanks.” Bianca grinned at her sister. “Come here.”

Adore basked in the affection, letting Bianca put her arms around her waist, lean a head on her shoulder.

“I love you, kiddo.”

“Are you drunk?” Adore asked, grinning down at her big sister. “Or dying? What’s going on?”

“I don’t know, I just love you. Do I need a fucking reason to say that?”

Adore laughed, hugging her back.

“Absolutely not. I’m very lovable.”

“That you are. Little shit.”

Adore giggled again, taking a swig directly from the tequila bottle.

“Classy.”

“Always!” she agreed, then realized that Bianca’s attention had been diverted. She followed her eyes, landing quickly on Courtney on the dance floor.

The blonde was currently engaged in a very provocative dance with Raven to Rihanna’s “S&M.” Adore turned back to her sister, saw the way her eyes were glazing over, glued Courtney’s every move. She kissed the top of Bianca’s head, making a secret wish for those two to get their shit together once and for all.

/////

Courtney tossed and turned in her bed, drifting in and out of a fitful sleep. The humidity was making it impossible for her to relax. Well, the humidity and the tension that had been building for days, now coiled in her abdomen like a spring.

A sharp knock on her door sounded, making her sit up straight. She stumbled out of bed, grabbing a blanket from the chair on her way, both confused by the middle of the night interruption and not at all confused.

As she opened the door, her stomach filled with butterflies. Bianca stood in the hall, hair loose and blowing in the ocean breeze, in bare feet and a flimsy nightgown.

They stared at each other for a long, heated moment, eyes locked, barely breathing.

Then, it all seemed to happen at once. Courtney took a step backwards, dropping her blanket to the floor. Bianca lunged forward to grab her face, crashing their lips together in a desperate, heated kiss - unleashing the passion she’d been holding back all week, a moan leaving the back of her throat.

Courtney’s hands were everywhere. Sliding over Bianca’s full tits, down the sides of her torso, cupping her ass. She pulled at the nightie, ripping it up over Bianca’s head, hands moving back to her smooth, heated skin.

She gripped the back of Bianca’s thighs and lifted her up, smiling at the little yelp that left Bianca’s throat as she tightened her legs around Courtney’s waist.

“I got you,” Courtney said, gazing up at her.

Fuck, she was even stronger than she looked. Bianca relaxed a little, realizing that she wasn’t going to fall. Courtney then turned around, walking towards the bed and tossing Bianca down, eyes still locked on hers. Bianca’s heart raced, lips and thighs both parting instinctually, chest heaving with desire.

Courtney crawled forward, hovering over her on all fours, sliding a hand up her thigh, looking into her eyes, pupils so dilated that they looked nearly black in the moonlight. She brushed a teasing kiss over Bianca’s mouth and started to lift her head away, when Bianca grasped a handful of her hair and pulled her down for another, deep and messy, relaxing into it as Courtney’s body pressed her into the mattress.

Their legs now tangled together, Bianca arched up against Courtney’s thigh, gripping her hips so tightly that she was sure to leave marks. When Courtney flexed against her, Bianca let out a hoarse whimper. Courtney began to trail a row of teasing kisses down her neck, grinding harder against her, feeling how wet she was getting. She inched her fingers down, when Bianca’s eyes flew open.

“Get away from my pussy with those claws, ma’am.”

The nails. Courtney stifled a laugh.

“Shit, sorry.”

Courtney pushed her legs open wider and crawled down to kneel between them. She could see how glistening wet she was, arching up, demanding attention. Courtney raked the tips of her nails lightly down her stomach, making her shiver.

“Those things are terrifying,” Bianca said, watching her through half-lidded eyes.

Courtney flashed a smirk up at her, placing a tender kiss just below her bellybutton, then lower, and lower.

“This better?”

“Much.” Bianca’s voice was low and husky, heart racing as Courtney continued her slow journey down. When she couldn’t stand it one second longer, she threaded her hands into her hair and pushed her head down.

The second Courtney’s tongue came in contact with Bianca’s clit, her head fell back against the pillows, a relieved groan falling from her lips. God, it had been so long. Those bicurious trophy wives were perfectly fun for casual encounters, but they had nothing on a real lesbian. Bianca gasped as Courtney’s tongue swirled around, slowly and carefully bringing her to the brink.

Courtney wrapped her arms around Bianca’s thighs, looking up at her face, head thrown back, lips parted, eyes shut.

“Is this why you came tonight, B?” She placed a soft kiss on Bianca’s tender inner thigh. “Is this what you wanted?”

A breathy “yeah” was all Bianca could manage. Courtney smiled and licked her lips, relishing the taste of her, before returning to the task at hand, paying close attention to the changes in her breathing, the way her body arched, sense memory reminding her of exactly what Bianca liked as she flicked a tongue over her clit.

Her first orgasm was quiet, blissful sighs and breathy whimpers, fingers tangled in Courtney’s hair, as Courtney lapped her up like dessert, tongue soft against her. She waited patiently for Bianca’s body to slow down before going in for more, sucking on her clit, one hand reaching up to toy with her nipple. She knew what Bianca really wanted, and had half a mind to chew off a couple of those awful nails, but unfortunately, they weren’t budging.

She slid to the side of the bed, smiling at Bianca’s whine, reaching over into her open suitcase and coming up with exactly what she was looking for: a Magic Wand.

Bianca lifted herself up on her elbows, dark eyes hooded with lust.

“Wow, you’re not messing around.”

“Nope.” Courtney twirled the Wand in her hand, giggling. “You ready?”

“Uh huh...”

Courtney laid down beside Bianca, turning her face and licking her mouth open, plunging a tongue inside. She flipped the Magic Wand on, letting it rest lightly against Bianca’s clit.

Bianca arched against the vibrator, vision going blurry as Courtney began to swirl a tongue around her nipple. Her fingers dug deep into Courtney arm, a string of whimpers and then curses falling from her lips. Every time she got close, Courtney changed the speed, keeping her on the edge, driving her crazy until she couldn’t take it anymore.

She moaned, pulling hard on Courtney’s hair, suddenly not satisfied with this passive role. She flipped them over, pushing Courtney’s legs open with her thigh, grinding down against her, rolling her hips faster and faster. She pulled the vibrator out from between them, turning it off and then tossing it aside, bearing down.

Sparks raced through her body as their wet pussies rubbed against each other. Courtney was fingering her nipples, arching up into her, and Bianca bit down hard on her shoulder, sucked bruises into her skin. Branding her. Mine.

“Fuck,” Bianca groaned as she came once again, slowing her movements to the pace of her throbbing cunt, sticky wetness mixing as she rutted against her.

She rode out the last aftershocks, then collapsed on top of Courtney, a sweaty mess, face buried in a cloud of blonde hair. Courtney trailed her nails up her back, round and round, making circles on her damp skin.

As if by instinct, Bianca’s mouth moved to Courtney’s neck, sucking on her pulse point, bruising the tender flesh, a hand snaking down to find her core, warm and wet.

“Oh, god, B…” Courtney whined as Bianca began to stroke her slowly, toy with her in that devilish way she had.

Whimpering with increased urgency now, Courtney arched up, pulse beating frantically as she begged for more friction, more pressure, more heat.

But Bianca’s movements were languid. Intentionally taking her sweet time, a soft tongue chasing her biting kisses, keeping Courtney wracked with pleasure, toes curled. She didn’t even mind those fucking nails digging into her shoulders, every scratch showing her the effect she was having on Courtney’s body as made her way down. Her tongue trailed lazy circles over her golden skin, still salty from the ocean.

She brushed her lips gently over Courtney’s clit, blowing hot air against her, holding her hips down as she strained and arched.

Suddenly, Courtney summoned all of her strength and flipped them over using just her thighs. She knelt above Bianca’s face, the look of surprise on her face almost as good as the feeling of her hot, plush mouth, the triumph of being in control.

Bianca’s arms circled her thighs, holding them open, mouth open and ready, a thrill rushing through her as Courtney’s hips rolled against her, grinding against her tongue, hot and messy and dripping wet. Her frantic movements set the pace, and Bianca kept up, tongue seeking her out, enthusiastically devouring her.

One of Bianca’s hands slid up, thumb brushing against Courtney’s nipple, and she groaned in pleasure, hips moving faster, her own hand moving to her other breast, pinching her nipple as she rode Bianca’s face.

Before long, Courtney’s thighs were shaking. As strong as she was, she was having trouble supporting her own weight in this state, whimpers bubbling up from the back of her throat, close to the edge, biting down on her lip so hard that she tasted blood.

All it took was a gentle push to get her onto her back, so that Bianca could take back the reins, finishing her off slowly, leisurely. Swirling her tongue, unbearably soft, as Courtney bucked and moaned, begging for more. Bianca lifted her head, just one finger toying with her as she looked at her face, eyes rolled back, mouth open in a silent scream. Bianca smiled, still watching as her tongue caressed Courtney’s swollen clit, eliciting a guttural moan, another gush of wetness that Bianca licked up greedily.

“Please B...oh god...I…” Courtney let out another broken moan, knuckles white from her tight grip on the sheets.

“I lied,” Bianca murmured against her, breathing her in deeply. “This is the reason I came here.”

She sucked harder, tongue circling faster, coaxing Courtney through wave after wave, passion engulfing her like a tsunami, leaving her gasping for breath, wrung out, her whole body unravelling as she melted into the bed.

It didn’t matter how much time had gone by. In that moment, Bianca knew that Courtney was hers entirely. She inhaled the scent of sweet victory, lips brushing against her, before rolling off, curled on her side, watching Courtney slowly regain her composure.

“Fuck.”

Bianca chuckled, sliding a hand across her abdomen, the newly formed 6-pack that had been taunting her all week.

“Your body is just…”

Courtney turned a head toward her, a smile tugging at her lips, eyes still half-closed with exhaustion.

“You like it?”

“Hell yeah,” Bianca replied.

“I thought you’d like me better dainty.”

“I thought so too, but...shit.”

Courtney giggled, lacing their fingers together.

“These, on the other hand?” Bianca lifted her hand, scowling at those dreaded nails. “These are a hate crime.”

“They were supposed to keep me from misbehaving,” Courtney explained.

“Oops.”

Courtney laughed again, turning to the side to face her, eyes soft and shining. They didn’t speak for awhile, simply enjoyed the quiet intimacy of the moment, naked and spent, curled together.

“B?”

“Yeah?” Bianca brushed another kiss against Courtney’s lips, pulling her closer by the waist.

Courtney allowed herself a few more moments of gentle affection before clearing her throat and sitting up slightly, propped against the pillows. She carded her scandalous nails through Bianca’s hair, watching her long lashes flutter.

“Um…”

“Yeah? What’s up?” Bianca asked again.

“Should we...talk about what this means?”

“Why, you moving back to New York?” Bianca retorted. Courtney’s hand stopped moving in her hair and she immediately regretted the sarcastic tone. Shit.

There was a long pause, and then Courtney muttered, “Forget it,” withdrawing her hand.

Bianca couldn’t bear to look up, to see the hurt that she knew would be in her eyes. What the fuck was wrong with her? Why did she have to destroy this moment?

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean...I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Okay.”

“I just...didn’t think anything had changed for you, so-”

“You’re right. It hasn’t.”

Bianca felt like she was swallowing a mouthful of sawdust as the reality of the situation hit her like a ton of bricks. Courtney wasn’t hers anymore. She had her own life, her own career. This was just a fling. And as much as Bianca wanted to get on her knees and beg her to come back, she knew that wasn’t the answer.

Courtney finally managed to catch her eye, saw how sorry she really was. She swallowed down her own pain, her own spoiled fantasies of what this was going to be, and offered her hand, palm up.

“Just wanted to make sure we’re on the same page.”

“Right.” Bianca took her hand, tried to be grateful for what they had, instead of angry about what she was losing, once again. Tried to pretend, for a little while, that things were different. That this was a new beginning instead of the same old tune.

She held onto Courtney’s hand, thumb rubbing her palm, until she heard Courtney’s breathing even out, and then gave her one final squeeze. One last kiss, soft, against her cheek.

It would be better if they woke up alone.

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joeybelle · 6 years

Text

Oh, how the tables have turned -- Part 3

Clyde Logan x Reader

Inspired by @clyde-prompts: “Some guys are rude and use ableist slurs against Clyde. The reader is with them, and although she feels bad about what’s happening, is too scared to say anything in front of her “friends”. She comes back to the bar a couple nights later to try and show him she’s not a bad person. They get to know each other and fall in love”. Doesn’t fully follow the prompt

Warnings: Language, first person POV, driving under the influence cause I assume everyone does it in that movie, IDK what I’m doing.

Rating: Mature

Setting: Pre-Heist

Tags: @lonelyravenclaw @kyloren-supreme-ben @onmyknees4steve @elsablackswift @helloimindelaware @mwcritics

A.N: I’ve decided to slice this fic into 3000-ish words parts for people to be able to scroll past it without much annoyance. Pert 3 ended up being much longer than expected, so i had to cut it into two parts somewhere in the middle. It’s not perfect, but you’ll be getting both parts today. When I finish editing. Might take a while. Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy the story. Feel free to drop me a line anytime or just message me if you wanna squee about Clyde Logan in general.

Rejection is always a tough pill to swallow. It wasn’t the first I’d gotten rejected and it certainly wouldn’t be the last, but it still didn’t go down easily. I found myself moping at home the next few days, following what I’d gotten used to calling the ‘series of unfortunate events’ related to Clyde Logan. Not that I had that many alternatives anyway, being a friendless nobody in a small town, but this time it felt self-imposed.

In the meantime I cut the grass in my yard and discovered a few rose bushes that were beautiful, but mean to my hands, I watched how the living room ceiling started leaking one rainy afternoon, signalling a pretty serious hole in the roof, nearly broke my neck going into the basement because there was a missing step I hadn’t seen before; I opened the vodka bottle all by myself and realized that he had been right, drinking alone wasn’t fun at all, but I was doing it anyway to hide my shame; I ate ice cream and binged Netflix shows for the rest of the week.

But there’s a limit to how much time you can spend alone at home before starting to go insane. I reached mine the next weekend and for a moment I considered paying Mellie a visit, but then I remembered the whole Clyde ordeal and I decided against it. I was sure that he’d told her everything and I really didn’t feel like talking about it. It was bad enough that I was beating myself up over it, I didn’t need someone else to rub it in. So, since the Duck Tape was off-limits for obvious reasons, and I didn’t feel like exploring for another bar in the neighbourhood I was left with only one option: the country fair.

I used to really love country fairs and carnivals and all that when I was a teenager, but it was probably because I’d be with my friends and there would be booze and food and we’d just be stupid together. I wasn’t sure I’d find them as charming nowadays, but at least I’d be moping outside, in public, which was an improvement to being secluded in my own home, waiting for another rain to invade the living room through the ceiling. So I showered, dressed like a semi-decent swamp witch and went to the damn thing.

As expected, the country fair didn’t impress me at all but it was a way to kill a few hours while feeling like less of a hermit than usual. I ate something, tested some insanely sweet drinks, and stuffed my face with enough ice cream to endanger my health, so in the end I found myself sitting on a bench, dangerously close to a food coma, with nothing better to do than to watch the crowd. Other people seemed to have way more fun than me. There were couples holding hands, parents with their kids, teenagers in groups visiting attractions and Clyde Logan with a blonde kid attached to his arm. Wait, what?

I have to say, this was the last place I had expected to see Clyde Logan. In my head, country fairs didn’t really fit his style (because I had spoken to him twice and I knew all there was to know about the man, obviously), and I assumed he’d be too busy with the bar to come to one anyway. I remembered that it was pretty early and the bar probably wasn’t open yet, but his presence in my field of vision was still unexpected.

I sighed dramatically and leaned back, arms crossed over my chest. Speak about bad luck, I thought. I came here to avoid him and here he was, swinging a blonde kid on his very toned arm. Actually, I didn’t mind the view. He was distracted by the kid and far enough not to notice my staring, so I indulged in it for a moment. There’s no harm in looking, right? Especially when he was wearing a dark, short-sleeved shirt that seemed at least a size too small, the buttons threatening to give in anytime he flexed his muscles while lifting the little girl in the air. His niece? Maybe. She seemed vaguely familiar, so I assumed she had been part of the onslaught of school kids that were sent to visit the college I worked at. Or maybe she was his kid. I had no way of knowing for sure.

Whatever the case, he looked really good doing it. He was smiling for a change. An open and honest smile lit up his usually somber face, and I just couldn’t look away. I caught myself wishing he would smile at me like that, but then I realized that we were practically strangers and I hadn’t made the best impression the first time we met. And since he clearly rejected me, I had to get over this crush ASAP if I wanted to live peacefully in this town.

The little girl let go of his arm and ran back to a couple that, after a bit of squinting, I recognized to be Jimmy Logan and his sister Mellie. They both looked different—after all it had been more than a decade since I’d last seen them—but not so much that I didn’t recognize them. Jimmy lifted the girl in the air and kissed her, then put her down and looked straight at me with a shit eating grin on his face. The feeling was similar to being punched in the gut. I remembered that in another life I’d dreamed of Jimmy Logan looking at me with a smile, but right now the only thing I felt was panic, so I decided to get the hell out of there before Mellie noticed me and I’d have to be part of a very awkward conversation.

But luck definitely wasn’t on my side today, because the little girl started running towards me yelling ‘Miss’ at the top of her lungs. Oh, now I recognized her: she was the pageant girl. Really smart kid, very bubbly and friendly, talked my ear off during the college tour. Her favourite subject was, of course, pageants.

“Hi!” I said, when she stopped in front of me, grinning from ear to ear. “You must be… uhhh… uhhhh.” Crap. I had been calling her pageant girl in my head for so long that I’d forgotten her name.

“Sadie!” she helpfully reminded me.

“Sadie, right. How are you today?”

“Good. Daddy brought me to the fair to see the auctioneers. And later uncle Clyde will win me a unicorn.” I did my best not to steal a glance at Clyde at the mention of his name, not wanting to invite any more attention towards me. Hopefully I’d be able to get out of here before the adults ganged up on me.

“Awesome!” I said, panic clearly noticeable in my voice, because Jimmy Logan was rapidly approaching (despite his visible limp) with Mellie following closely. “It was nice seeing you today, Sadie, but I have to go now. I’m keeping my fingers crossed for your unicorn.”

“Aw, leaving already?” She looked genuinely sad and I felt bad for her, but I felt even worse for myself, so I had to go.

“Yeah, leaving already? Without even saying hello?” Jimmy caught up to us before I was able to disappear, so I put on my most believable fake smile and hoped for the best. “Come on, don’t be a stranger, Baby,” he said, pulling me into a hug.

“Well, I kinda thought I was,” I mumbled, but returned the hug. He seemed like a nice person, plus I’d held him on a pedestal for so many years that I could indulge in a hug.

“Daddy, why are you calling her baby?” Sadie aske, giggling.

“Cause that’s her nickname,” he said, ruffling her hair. He explained to her that I’d been called baby ever since I was little, but she had to be polite and call me by my real name. The kid giggled again and I mouthed ‘I hate it’ which made her laugh harder, before turning to face her dad once again.

“I am surprised you know that. I lived under the impression that you had no idea who I was,” I said, going to hug his sister. “Hi Mellie, long time no see.” In hindsight, I should have kept my mouth shut and pretended we were at least acquaintances. And although I knew it could be interpreted that way, I wasn’t bitter that he never acknowledged me in my teens—after all, it was just puppy love and it had been a decade since then—but I was curious what had prompted this sudden display of familiarity. If anything, I would have expected Mellie to come alone to say hi.

“Hiya, sweetheart. It’s good to have you back.” She warmly returned my hug.

“What do you mean I had no idea who you were? You’ve been coming to my games since you were twelve and cheered louder than the whole cheerleading squad.” That was true. “How could I not know my biggest fan?”

“So you what, ignored me on purpose?” I said, arching an eyebrow.

“Well, it’s not like I did it on purpose,” he said and laughed. His laugh was still the same as I remembered, loud and contagious. “But my brother here had the biggest crush on you and I just didn’t wanna make him more jealous.” Well, this was unexpected.

Clyde had conveniently stayed out of my line of sight, keeping his distance, but now I turned to look at him. Never in my life had I seen anyone blush so furiously in a matter of seconds, his whole face even his ears becoming a deep shade of red. He was glaring at Jimmy who seemed really unfazed by it.

“Is that so?” I pressed, feigning innocence, but deep inside me there was a little devil laughing maniacally. I mean, I was aware that it wasn’t very nice of me, but I was feeling a tiny bit of petty satisfaction knowing that I wasn’t the only one embarassed by the whole situation. Misery loves company.

“Yeah, he only ever came to my games to see you cheer,” Jimmy said, same shit eating grin plastered on his face, seeming completely oblivious to his brother’s discomfort.

I smiled back but wonder what Jimmy’s motive was. Talking to me out of the blue, after never acknowledging me before, snitching on his brother in a matter of seconds. I knew he was insanely loyal to his family, so why sell him now?

On the whole, the situation was beyond comical. Jimmy was grinning, Clyde seemed set on killing him with a glare, Sadie attached to his arm again asking ‘Is that true, uncle Clyde’ over and over again until he finally mumbled something that sounded like ‘It was a long time ago’. He looked at me like a deer (or a moose) caught in the headlights and I could feel my own cheeks burning. I was in hell.

“Why didn’t anyone tell me about this?” I asked Mellie, who stood next to me, arms crossed and an amused smile playing on her face.

“‘Cause he’s a bit of a coward and you were infatuated with my other brother,” she kindly explained.

“Right.” Made sense. I still felt like something that I should have known about back then— who knows, I might have liked him back—or you know, forever hold your silence type of thing. But knowing this now explained a lot of things.

Now that the petty satisfaction that I had felt for embarrassing him had died down a little bit, I understood why Clyde rejected me and didn’t seem to react to my flirting. If someone I had been crushing on in my teens showed up on day, insulted me or trampled on my insecurities then tried flirting with me I would have been much less gracious in rejecting them than Clyde had been. Yes, it had been more than a decade since highschool, and I was pretty sure his crush on me was dead and buried (like the one I used to have on Jimmy), but it was something that could potentially still hurt after years. So once again I was flooded by guilt.

“Well, it was… uhh… fun meeting you guys, but I have to head back now,” I said, getting ready to bail. Enough embarrassment for a day. Served me right for wanting to get out of the safety of my home. Never again.

“Come on, we’ve just met and you wanna leave already?” Mellie said with a disappointed look on her face.

“It’s not that, I just have some things to do at home,” I tried excusing myself. “Give me your phone number and we can hang out another time,” I said fishing my phone out of my pocket.

“The things will still be there tomorrow, but you’re never getting back today,” Jimmy said with a wink.

“Wow, who knew my brother was a philosopher,” Mellie arched an eyebrow at him. I laughed.

“Please, Miss,” Sadie latched onto my hand, pulling me towards the booths. “Daddy said I’ll get to be your guide today, show you around the fair. Pleaaase.” How could you say no to a kid? Big-eyed, freckled, and more full of life than I’d ever been.

I looked over to Clyde who had returned to a somewhat normal shade, although there was still some pink tinting his cheeks. He still seemed highly uncomfortable about this whole thing, his whole body looking tense. I tried imagining what he felt: a week ago he was living a (supposedly) peaceful life and then Baby was back in town and he’d been insulted, hit on and then embarrassed by his brother in front of his family. If I’d been in his place, I would have faked my death and left the country by now.

“I don’t think I should…” I said, hoping that at least one of the siblings would take the hint and leave it be.

“Nonsense!” Jimmy proclaimed, patting me on the shoulder and nudging me towards Sadie. “Come stay with us a while and I promise you’ll have plenty of time to do whatever you were planning on doing.”

“Are you willing to help out?”

“If that’s what it takes…”

I snorted. “Half an hour then I’m gone,” I said, following them towards the booths. I send Clyde an apologetic look, hopefully he wouldn’t be bothered too much by my presence for the next half an hour. He seemed to have regained his composure and was following us closely.

Sadie was still holding my hand as we were mingling into the crowd of people staring at the attractions. She diligently explained to me what everything was, like it was my first time going to a country fair. It was entertaining to watch. She was a really cute kid and honestly, after so many days of self-imposed isolation, it was nice to interact with people in my free time.

“So, how’s it like being back in your hometown again?” Mellie asked, once Sadie ran over to her dad.

“Nice, peaceful.” Or that’s how it should have been, if I’d been a little smarter. “But it’s gonna take a bit of getting used to. It’s definitely keeping me busy. My roof just started leaking, something I never thought I’d have to experience, but hooray for adult life,” I laughed.

“Did you get it fixed?” she asked, a little concerned.

“No, not yet. Called a couple of contractors, but they didn’t have any opening this month.” I sighed. “I don’t have that many contacts in the area, but I’ll keep looking and hope there won’t be rain anytime soon.”

“That sucks,” she said and turned to her brother. “Hey Jimmy,” she yelled, “do you know anyone who can fix a roof?”

“What happened to it?”

“I don’t know,” I answered, truthfully. “It’s just raining into my living room.”

“I can come take a look when I’m free. If it’s not something big I can fix it for you.” He offered.

“Thanks, but…” Was I stupid enough to refuse? Yes.

“You don’t trust my skills?”

“Oh, I do, but I don’t want you to waste your free time fixing my leaky roof.” It wasn’t just that. I generally preferred to work with people I didn’t know, who were paid to do a job and with who I could argue at the end if the job wasn’t done properly. With friends and family, you just accept what you get, smile and then pay someone else to fix it later. Plus, if they refused payment, you’d have to find a way to make it up to them which meant more complications. And in this particular case I knew I shouldn’t be spending more time with Clyde or his family if I wanted my unrequited crush to die anytime soon. But how do I tell Jimmy that, when he seemed so eager to help?

“It’s no problem. I’ll take a look and if it’s something I can’t do, I’ll put you in touch with some people. When are you free?”

“Not sure, my schedule isn’t fully decided yet.”

“Then give me a call and we’ll see what works for the both of us. Clyde gimme your phone.” That earned him a frown from his brother.

“Why? What happened to your phone?” he said on what I guessed was a rather disapproving tone, but handed him the phone nonetheless.

“It’s broken.”

“He forgot to pay for it,” Sadie explained with a giggle.

“I didn’t forget, I’m not paying it in sign of protests to the shitty plan they forced down my throat,” he muttered. “Anyway, what’s your number?”

He punched in the number and gave me a call. I typed the name Clyde but then changed my mind and saved it as ‘Logan Bros’. Clyde never really wanted my number, so it was just a way for me to get in touch with Jimmy if I needed help. I decided to never call it unless the roof caught fire and I was trapped underneath.

The phone went back to Clyde and I saw him fiddle with it a bit, probably saving the number. I wondered what he saved me as. Probably used my real name, since I’d never heard him call me Baby. Although for some strange reason, I wouldn’t have minded even if he did. No matter how much I hated the nickname, I was sure I’d very much enjoy it if he moaned it in my ear as he pulled me closer to his chest and… stop. Restrain yourself, woman.

Sadie kept her promise and was a very good guide, which meant I was now very well acquainted with everything at the country fair. Jimmy had bought us corn dogs and cheesy fries and donuts and refused to let me pay for anything, so I retaliated by buying everyone snow cones and funnel cake. By the time we reached the shooting galleries, I was so full I was ready to burst.

As Sadie was searching the booths for the toy she wanted I bought a bottle of water, hoping to wash away the nausea caused by all that deep fried food I had shoved down my throat earlier. Seeing that Clyde had fallen behind and we could finally be alone for a bit, I decided to go and talk to him.

“Sorry for crashing your family outing,” I said, standing besides him as we both watched Sadie’s quest to find the best toy. “It wasn’t my intention.”

“It’s alright” he said, briefly glancing at me. “I have to apologize for how my brother acted today. I guess he’s just excited that you’re back in town. He doesn’t have that many friends.”

I had to admit that Jimmy Logan being lonely and not surrounded by hordes of friends was something that I would have never imagined. But I could see it now, after all we were both in the same position: two formerly popular kids that had fallen from grace and were now regular nobodies. Most friendships we made in our teens weren’t the kind that lasted a lifetime.

“I’m actually really enjoying this,” I said, trying to open the water bottle and failing. My hands were still very greasy from all that deep fried food. “But don’t tell anyone or I have a feeling I might get friend-dopted by your family and you’ll never get rid of me,” I said with a wink, to which he smiled. An actual smile. Directed at me.

“Lemme help you with that,” he said, noticing my pathetic attempt at opening the bottle. He held it under his left arm, effortlessly unscrewing the cap.

“I’m completely useless” I mumbled retrieving the bottle, and he chuckled.

In the meantime Sadie seemed to have found what she was looking for and dragged both Clyde and me towards one of the booths. She showed him what he wanted and after paying he was given a shabby airgun. I don’t think I’d ever seen anyone look at a rifle with more contempt in their eyes. I was certain he was used to a different type of guns, especially since he had been in the military.

“Piece of crap,” he mumbled, to no one in particular, disgust clear in his voice.

“Welcome to the glamorous world of carnivals, Mr. Logan,” I laughed.

He shot me a dirty look and aimed. He missed the first two targets, but got the other three. It was still quite impressive, I was sure the only thing I’d be able to hit with any rifle would be my foot, especially since everyone knows the games are rigged and the guns aim screwed on purpose. He paid for another round and I kept my fingers crossed. Sadie had climbed onto her father’s shoulders and was cheering from above.

This time he got the first target with very little effort. And the second one. And the third. By the fourth I was probably as excited as Sadie, although a little less vocal. The fifth target came down just as effortlessly as the others and both Sadie and I cheered loudly. The vendor faked excitement and handed him the toy, making a bit of a spectacle to attract other customers. ‘Look everybody, you can win even with one arm!’ he bragged, and I hated him already, but Clyde didn’t even seem to notice.

“Which one do you want?” he asked Mellie, after giving Sadie her toy.

“One of those,” she said, pointing to a bunch of little plushies that could be hanged on the rearview mirror.

“Alright,” he said, and paid for another round. This time, it seemed like he didn’t even have to aim. He just pointed the rifle and the targets went down one after another, to the vendor’s increased irritation and to my delight.

Clyde gave the toy to his sister who thanked him with a kiss on the cheek, then turned to me. “Which one do you want?”

“Me?” I said, taken by surprise. “You want to get me one too?”

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#clyde logan #clyde logan x reader #clyde logan x oc #logan lucky #clyde logan fanfictio

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winterbaby89 · 7 years

Text

Dark Hook Comes to Storybrooke – Prologue

A gift from me and @hollyethecurious for @kmomof4 in celebration of her birthday (HAPPY BIRTHDAY KRYSTAL!!)

Beta’d by: @ilovemesomekillianjones

Amazing Artwork by: @xhookswenchx

Rated M for language and dark themes (and maybe (probably) some sexy times… later ;o)

Prologue Summary: Moments before the Evil Queen’s Dark Curse whisks our beloved fairytale characters to Storybrooke, Captain Hook finally gets his revenge on the Crocodile. Season 1 Canon Divergence.

Also available on ao3, my fic page, and Hollye′s fic page

Prologue

Twenty-Eight years ago in the Enchanted Forest on the day of Regina’s curse…

The dank decay of the dungeon permeated all of Hook’s senses, but he paid it no heed for fortune was surely smiling upon him this day.

Cora had been correct. The dagger was exactly where she said it would be. Another useful piece of information he’d been able to charm from her before he’d completed the mission Regina had sent him to Wonderland for in the first place.

Hook sneered with slight amusement at the memory of Regina’s face when he’d told her that even though he had dispatched Cora at her behest, he no longer had need of her curse to enact his revenge. Cora had told him the curse wouldn’t truly give him what he wanted anyway, and he was tired of waiting.

Revenge would be his, and since the moment he’d stepped foot on the castle grounds it seemed that fate agreed with him. He’d met little resistance from the Prince and Princess’ guards. It seemed there were other matters of concern facing the castle. From his vantages in dark corners and shadows it was clear that the entire household had been turned on end with the news of the Princess’ labor and the impending arrival of not only a new little royal, but the Evil Queen as well.

All those lovely distractions had made it too easy for him to retrieve the dagger from its hidden place within the vaults, and make his way down to the cells under the castle proper. Now all that remained between him and his quarry were two guards, but as it had been all that day, luck continued to be on his side. The sound of the alarm bell rang out causing the knights to abandon their post, leaving just Hook and the old crocodile to face each other one final time.

Hook weighed the dagger in his hand, his gaze resting on his forearm at the memorial he’d inked into his skin for his beloved Milah. “We’ve done it, my love,” Hook murmured. “The vile imp is about to meet his fate, and you will be avenged at last.”

Hook closed his eyes and tamped down his heartache, allowing the hate and rage to boil up within him once more, he fortified the emotions that would see his quest through to the end. With one last bracing breath, Hook slipped a sinister smirk on his face and emerged from the shadows.

“Well, well, well, look what we have here. A toothless crocodile in a cage,” Hook taunted as he sauntered up to the bars. “How does it feel, Dark One? To once again be utterly powerless? To once again be at my mercy?”

“Well, Dearie,” The Dark One sang as he approached the bars to face his foe. “I might be caged, but I’m hardly at your mercy,” the depraved demon giggled as he began to turn away from the bars.

The final remnants of Hook’s control snapped as he plunged his hook into the back of the Dark One’s shoulder and pulled him forward, pinning him against the bars. “I wouldn’t be too sure of that,” Hook growled through his teeth as he plunged the dagger deep into the scourge’s gut.

He delighted at the sound of the crocodile’s shocked inhale and guttural rasps that gave evidence to the severity of the wound, and thought there was, perhaps, no more satisfying a sight he could ever behold than that of the life slipping from The Dark One’s eyes. Hook expected begging. Expected pleading and groveling from the cowardly creature, but was instead met with one last barb.

“You think you’ve seen the last of me?” he wheezed. The curse vanished from his visage as the man Hook once taunted on the deck of his ship became more prevalent in his last moments. “You can’t get rid of me that easily, Dearie.”

“What do you mean?” Hook demanded, his hand still gripping the blade that was buried within Rumplestiltskin.

“You’ll see,” Rumple replied with his last breaths. “Magic… always comes… with a price… and now… it’s yours to pay.”

As the man’s life gave way, his body became dead weight against the pirate’s hook and the dagger. Releasing him to collapse against the dungeon floor Hook felt a tingling sensation creep up his right hand. “What the devil?” Hook gasped as he saw the shimmering glint of magic encompass his hand. Swirling blackness suddenly knocked him off kilter, but just before it claimed him fully Hook balked and swallowed back the rising bile at the name he now saw gleaming from the dagger within his hand.

His own.

Pain. Torment. Anguish. Rage. An unrelenting assault cascaded over him as the darkness ravaged every fiber of his being. Just when he thought he could endure it no longer, the viscous mire receded leaving a bewildered Hook alone in a quiet clearing.

“What the bloody hell is happening?!” Hook shouted at the trees. Panic set in as his mind tried to comprehend, and simultaneously deny what had occurred.

“Well isn’t it obvious?” a voice asked. An all too familiar voice. An impossible voice… “You’re the new Dark One, Dearie.”

“No,” Hook exhaled on a desperate breath as he turned toward the voice only to see the crocodile standing before him. “No!”

“Oh, yes,” the imp smiled with glee. “See for yourself,” and he gestured to the dagger still resting in Hook’s grip.

With a trembling hand, Hook brought the blade up to meet his reluctant gaze. He’d already seen it, knew what would be etched upon its surface, but the knowledge did not prepare him for the despair that overtook him as he gazed upon the name scrolled along the odious metal.

Killian Jones.

Despair gave way to distraction as a low rumbling caught Hook’s attention. The ground began to shake under his feet as the rumbling became a cacophony within his ears, and just over the treetops Hook watched as a dark purple cloud came barreling towards him.

“What the blazes is that?!” Hook exclaimed.

“Oh, that,” the crocodile quipped, “would be the Dark Curse.”

Hook paled at the realization that there was no escaping the onslaught.

“Lucky you,” the imp muttered as the purple smoke began to descend and swirl around them. “Twice cursed in one day.”

For the second time, Hook succumbed to an unknown darkness as the Evil Queen’s Dark Curse enveloped him.

Chapter 1

@abeylin1982 @captain-swan-coffee @downeystarkjr @freakassbuthunter @gingerchangeling @ilovemesomekillianjones @jennjenn615 @kmomof4 @laschatzi @leiaswanjoneskid @seriouslyhooked @teamhook @ultraluckycatnd @xhookswenchx @yayimallamaagain

#cs ff #cs canon divergence #Dark Hook #season 1 #CS fanfics #Captain Swan #cs fan fic #cs #captain swan fanfiction #winterbaby89writes

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eggsyunwinorlose · 7 years

Text

Written in the Scars

Imagine something, if you will:

Kingsman takes place in an AU where every lie told creates a new scar on the body of the liar. Given what the job entails, the fates somehow excuse these men and women on the grounds that they lie for the greater good. Of course, that doesn't leave them immune to the scars caused by the lies they tell off duty, or when they are not necessary.

Every Kingsman has their fair share of lies, Harry having the most with as much as he lies to everyone about his feelings, and the things that worry him. Mostly, he lies about how he feels for Eggsy, because some part of him cannot fathom the idea that a man more than half his age could ever feel the same depth of love. Of course, Eggsy confronts these feelings, and there's no longer a need to lie, save for when Harry refuses to tell others when he's upset, because God knows Harry would rather suffer in silence and scar his body than burden anyone with his problems.

One afternoon, a few months after Cambodia, Eggsy is sent off on a simple recon mission. It's so simple really, neither Harry, nor Merlin thought to send anyone along. All that was required was for Eggsy to make an appearance in the warehouse that had become a makeshift hideout for a new drug kingpin in central London, restrain him, and gather intel. It was so simple.

Until it wasn't.

Eggsy slips up, doesn't catch the knife the other man had hidden under his jacket sleeve, and ends up with a knife plunged into his lower abdomen. He's bleeding out, and he can only watch as the kingpin flees out of the room as he falls to his knees, and then forces himself into a sitting position. He knows there's nothing that can be done, but pings Merlin through his glasses and requests that Medical be sent in.

Harry comes with, because of course he does. It's Eggsy, and he's hurt, and Harry has to be there. He's standing beside Eggsy's gurney - the med staff has already told Harry through sorrow that there isn't anything they can do, Eggsy's too far gone, suffered too much internal damage, and his fate is inevitable - and Harry can't force himself to bring Eggsy any more pain. He whispers sweet nothings, reminds Eggsy how much he loves him, and tells him all the things he thinks he needs to say until he's sure Eggsy is no longer there.

Harry sheds his tears, no longer finding it in himself to care that everything in his training has taught him not to cry in public, but to only shed a tear in private. He'd waiting so long to love Eggsy the way he truly wanted to, and now he would never get to do the things his heart and his body still ached for. Eggsy is gone, and Harry can already feel his new scar presenting.

_______________________________________________

The recruitment process starts a few weeks later, and, feeling sorry for his friend, Merlin sponsors a young woman to allow Harry to forego his sponsorship. Merlin wouldn't be surprised if he never saw Harry sponsor a candidate again. Harry loses himself in as many missions as he can; anything to keep him away from Kingsman, and the city that stole the love of his life.

One day, as Harry sits with Merlin, overseeing shooting training, Merlin decides it's time to ask Harry for his honesty. It starts with him turning to look at Harry, allow his eyes to trace over the large scar that started from the crook of his neck, down to where it disappeared under his button-up, which Merlin knows from an accidental walk-in about a week ago, stops just over his heart. Then, he takes in a deep breath and forces himself to gain Harry's attention fully.

"Yer new scar, Harry... it's got to be the worst one I've ever seen. No offense, of course. I just have to know... what could you have possibly said that would have caused it?" In all honestly, Merlin was expecting some sort of lie, and he couldn't exactly blame the man. However, it was a shock to the system when when Harry turned his whole body to look at him, tears brimming his eyes.

"When Eggsy was laying on that gurney, bleeding out... I just wanted him to be fine. I needed him to be fine, even if he wasn't. I couldn't bear to see him scared, so... I told him he was going to be alright."

_______________________________________________

Alright, I don't know why I do this to myself, or you guys, but I had this amazing idea, and I really needed other people to suffer with me 😂😭 Anyway, I'm pretty sure I'm going to end up turning this into a nice one chapter fic on AO3, so feel free to reblog, give feedback, or whatever else it is you lovelies would like to do.

Also, blame @manners-maketh-eggsy for the onslaught of sorrow, because she's inspired me to continue writing Hartwin, and I am back with a passion for angst.

#kingsman #kingsman the secret service #kingsman the golden circle #eggsy unwin #harry hart #merlin #hartwin #angst #pls help #this hurts

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kikyz · 7 years

Text

Something like an Afterglow

Today is my birthday and I wrote something short and kinda dumb/self indulgent for myself lol. Its pretty random, starts off a little nsfw, and fits into the ‘Summer’ section of my fic Seasons In-between (which is also kinda self indulgent and VERY nsfw), but you can definitely read this without reading the fic (I mean, you might appreciate this nonsense more if you had? Mayhaps? But yeah, totally not required. But if you’re awesome and are already reading the fic, this would take place about a week after chapter 4).

----------

At this point, it’s all pleasantly familiar.

The pleasurable warmth of the joined bodies, the creak of his mattress, Sadie’s airy gasps in his ear, the rapid thud of his heartbeat knocking around his ribcage, the taste of salt on her skin, the softness of her supple body as his hand squeezes at her hips to help her move faster astride him, the sting of her fingernails digging crescent moons into his back, the arch in her back as she loudly keens with release...

“F-fuck, Sades,” Lars moans into the delicate curve of his friend’s neck as a shiver runs down his spine. The hot coil that’s been tightening in his lower abdomen springs loose. His teeth sink into his bottom lip, determined to stop any more words from slipping out of his mouth as he grunts his way through his own climax.

Their breaths are heavy, both making little noises of displeasure when Sadie lifts off of him to flop on the bed beside him. Lars rolls over onto his stomach, hiding his flushed and sweaty face in his pillow, and tossing an arm over Sadie’s middle. Unthinkingly he pulls her closer, their sides snugly pressed together. It’s only when his heart rate and breathing fully slows to a normal pace that it really registers that he’s trapping her in bed with him.

Cheeks flaming, he turns his head toward her to see if she minds.

Lars smirks at the sight of her. Her yellow hair is wild, her cheeks are still pink, and her eyes are lidded with contentment as she stares up at the ceiling. With a blink, her gaze shifts to Lars, and Sadie smiles. His stomach flips, his smirk widening to a full grin. Her hand comes up to rest on the slender arm draped over her. A fluttery sensation tickles his skin. Lars’ eyes drop to her tiny hand at the source, watching her thumb as it softly sweep over a small patch of his skin.

His gaze returns to hers only briefly before darting off to the suddenly very interesting looking wooden paneling on the wall. Her hand shyly falls away, and he swiftly removes his arm.

“So uh...happy birthday,” Sadie weakly offers as an icebreaker to the now awkward silence. “Don’t think I actually said it before.”

“Come to think of it, you didn’t,” Lars snorts. He shifts onto his side, hand reaching back over her to lightly pinch her thigh. “So rude. You didn’t bring me a gift or anything either.”

Sadie smacks his offending hand. Instead of retreating, Lars rests his palm on her thigh and caresses up to the curve of her hip and back down. There’s a split second where a flash of confusion crosses her face as he continues squeeze and touch her upper leg, causing the fluidity of his movements to stiffen. She makes no mention of it though when she curls onto her side to fully face him, inadvertently --or purposefully?-- giving him easier access.

“I already gave you your gift,” Sadie needlessly reminds him. He’s very aware that the vespa scooter that arrived a week too soon is sitting pretty in his garage right now with little to no juice from their day of aimlessly riding it around Beach City.

That had also been the day he accidentally said he loved her, which he promptly denied the moment she brought it up and… He really doesn’t want to think about how weird and awkward that particular work day had been. But it was just a little hiccup. She believed his lie, and they’re still friends (with benefits). They’re good. She had said so.

So Lars keeps caressing her from hip to thigh, occasionally roaming over her ample backside, as he pretends to think.

“You did? ...I hope you’re not counting you returning the jacket you stole as my gift. That’s just beyond lame, Sadie.”

She glares at him, and Lars is barely able to keep in a snort of laughter.

“Oh, right. The birthday sex,” he mutters, a crooked grin taking over his face. “Gotta say, it could’ve been better.”

“Oh, shut up,” Sadie huffs and shoves at his shoulder. Lars just laughs in response. “If anyone should complain, it’s me.”

“What do you got to complain about? You know I rocked your world.”

“Did you though?” she questions with an arch brow, staring him down with an inscrutable expression. His hand stills. His confident grin wavers. The embarrassing memory of their pathetically short lived first time floods his head, spiking his blood with panic, and he squirms a bit anxiously as he stares back at her. A devilish glint flickers in her eyes, and the corners of her mouth twitches upward. Lars frowns when a giggle bubbles out of her, but he quickly finds himself smiling again as he retaliates by tickling her.

“Geez, Sadie. Are you trying to ruin a guy’s self-esteem?”

“More like deflate that big head of yours,” she tosses out between giggles. Lars sucks his teeth at that, and doubles his efforts.

She squeaks and squeals out bouts of laughter, her naked body fidgeting as she attempts to move away from his onslaught. But he seems to anticipate her every move, avoiding her kicking legs and always managing to reach that sweet spot that causes her to cackle. Even when she tries to roll off the bed, his arms lock around her and swiftly pulls her into his chest.

Her laughter is soundless, her exhales come out jerky, her shoulders shaking and her chest bouncing as she tries to speak to no avail. Lars mercifully stops tickling her, wiping away the tear that leaked out her eye while he waits for Sadie to catch her breath.

“Are you sorry for your vicious lies yet?” Lars asks, waggling his fingers menacingly. Sadie chuckles and shakes her head, but when he moves to start tickling her again, Sadie jolts back.

“Okay, okay,” she laughingly shouts in surrender. “I’m sorry.”

“Admit I just rocked your world.”

“Yes! Totally rocked off its axis.”

“And my head isn’t big either.”

“Except where it counts.”

“Oh my god, Sadie,” Lars snorts and chuckles. His arms wrap around her, tucking her fully under his chin as he hold her more firmly to his chest as he flops them back into lying on the bed. The mattress creaks as it lightly bounces them.“You’re such a dork.”

Sadie shrugs, still giggling. He can feel her lips and the warm puff of her breath on his clavicle. A contented sigh slips through his lips as they both relax. Lars forgets himself for a moment, and presses a kiss atop her head.

“Thanks for my gift...and the birthday sex. In case I hadn’t said it before,”Lars mumbles into her hair.

Sadie scoffs, rolling her eyes as her muffled “you’re welcome” causes her lips to brush his skin. She feels him shiver, and smirks to herself when the meaty flesh pressed against her hardens.

“How was your birthday, by the way,” she softly asks. “Was kind of expecting a bit more of a ruckus when I came over.”

Lars shrugs.

For all Lars’ talk of raging parties and blowout splendors for the epic occasion that was going to be his eighteenth birthday, the actual day went by without too much fanfare. Which is mostly his own fault, seeing as he never got around to sending the invites to his big birthday bash…

But it was a nice enough day. Cupcakes for breakfast with his parents. Played and won a bunch of online video game matches throughout the afternoon. Steven dropped by with a present, as well as a crown and royal looking cape for some weird reason. His social media accounts had the most action it’s ever seen with people sending him birthday wishes. And then Sadie came knocking at his door, her hands clutching a light jacket as she greeted him with the tiniest smile gracing her lips.

“Is that why you came by so late?” Lars chuckles out, scooting back just a smidge to be able to look at her face. “So you would skip out on most of my party? Some friend you are.”

“I wasn’t trying to...I mean, I guess I kinda was, but… Parties aren’t exactly my thing, you know?”

“I know.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you weren’t having one? And why didn’t you have one, for that matter?”

Lars shrugs again. He did have it all planned out, and had bought a good chunk of party supplies. Yet, when he started working on the invites, he couldn’t help but wonder if anyone would actually come. And if they did, would they think the decorations were cool? Or would they sneer and called him lame for having a themed birthday party at eighteen? Would alcohol make it seem more adult? He’s never had anything stronger than a hard lemonade, sneakily taken out of his parents’ mini-fridge. He couldn’t exactly supply a party without emptying the fridge, and he couldn’t just go out and buy some beers himself yet. And there was a million other things to worry about too, like is his outfit cool enough? Would they think he’s trying too hard if he got a fog machine?

It all could go wrong in so many ways. The pressure got to him, and Lars just decided to forgo it.

“Birthday parties are for babies anyway,” he mutters. “I mean, honestly, after like thirteen, all birthday parties are lame until you hit twenty-one. And after that it’s just another year closer to death.”

“Wow, Lars,” Sadie says as she shifts up a little. “I think that’s the most pessimistic thing you’ve ever said.”

“Name one good party post age thirteen!”

“Sweet sixteen!” she immediately tosses out, and Lars tsks in defeat as he recalls Jenny and Kiki’s sweet sixteen party. The whole school was invited, and though it was before Lars and Jenny were even close to becoming friends, it had been an awesome party. “And literally all other ages. Like, life is always worth celebrating. Your life is worth celebrating. I’m glad you exist.”

Lars blinks at that. Sadie blushes.

“Sorry,” she whispers, smiling shyly. “That was kinda sappy, wasn’t it?”

“No. I mean, yeah. Kinda. But not terribly so,” Lars chuckles weakly, running his hand up her back and down her arm to wiggle his fingers into the space between hers. “Uh, thanks. I um… I’m glad you exist too, Sades.”

She smiles at him, a pulse of warmth shoots through him, and Lars has to tuck his face away into his pillow to keep himself from blurting out that he loves her again.

They’re just friends. They’re just friends. They're just friends! Stop being an idiot, for this is as good as it gets and dropping the L word is only going to ruin this.

With a deep sigh and his feelings back in check, Lars faces Sadie again with a frown.

“What?” she asks with a soft laugh. “Does your pillow stink?”

“What? No.”

“Then why does your face look like that?”

“Look like what?”

“Sour. Grumpy. Like you got called in to take the morning shift on your off day.”

“I dunno what you’re talking about. I’m fine,” he huffs. “Maybe I got resting bitch face or something.”

“No, your resting face is more sad puppy than bitch.”

“Whatever, just...shhh.”

“Did you just shush me?”

“Yeah, ‘cause it’s my birthday and I say hush. When it’s your birthday, you’ll get to call the shots. Them’s the rules, so we’re gonna take a nap now.”

“We?”

“Yes, we,” he persists, squeezing her hand so she wouldn’t leave, though she hadn’t made a move to do so anyway. He snuggles closer, mumbling about how soft and cozy she is before muttering, “now close your eyes.”

She does, and he follows suit. They lay together listening to the other breathe for a full two minutes before Lars lets out an annoyed sigh.

“I’m not tired.”

“We could play a game,” Sadie suggests and starts to sit up only for Lars to huff and tugs back to him. She snorts out a laugh. “Or not?”

“I’ve been playing all day. I’m burned out.”

“Or you know that I’ll beat you.”

“As if. Keep telling yourself that, Sades.”

“I will, because it’s true.”

“Pfft. If I wasn’t so comfortable, I’d get up and prove you wrong.”

“Sure,” Sadie scoffs playfully. “Whatever you got to say to help you sleep at night...or just lay here, rather...”

“Ha ha, so clever,” Lars mutters dryly.

“How about a word game instead?” she offers, circling back. “Like the alphabet game.”

“Ugh, fine. What’s the topic?”

“Hmm. How about you? Since it’s your birthday.”

“How the heck is that suppose to work, Sades?”

“Easy. A is for annoying.”

Lars gasps dramatically in offense, and sticks his tongue out at her. Sadie just smiles back him, her head nodding to prompt him to take the next letter. So he sighs and huffs, eyes darting upwards as he tries to think of a word.

“Uh...Birthday?”

“Fair enough,” Sadie says with a shoulder shrug. “C is for crummy.”

“That’s the best offensive C word you can think of?” he chuckles, and Sadie decidedly looks away as she suppresses a giggle. Obviously she’s just teasing him, but he plays along, looking haughty before smirking. “Alright then, D is for devilishly handsome!”

“E is for evil,” she hisses playfully.

“F is for frickin’ amazing,” he fires back.

Sadie scoffs and they continue going back and forth, Sadie’s words always slightly insulting while Lars’ were overly complimentary to compensate. Though when she calls him a yardstick, they both crack up.

“Really, Sades?”

“It’s the best thing I could think of.”

“Yardstick, though? Like is that a crack at my weight, ‘cause dang. Pretty cold to do that on my birthday. Like, sheesh.”

“That honestly didn’t even cross my mind. It was just the first Y word to pop into my head.”

“Yeah, right.”

“It was!”

“So you don’t secretly think I’m too skinny?” he asks her, pretending to pout in feign insecurity.

“How could I?” Sadie laughs, playfully poking at his chest. “S stands for sexy, doesn’t it?”

Lars snickers, shaking his head at her. “I knew you loved me,” he teases, but the moment the words come out he wishes he could suck them back in. He feels Sadie stiffen next to him, and he bites his bottom lip in uncertainty.

Lingering in bed after sex to cuddle and talk? That’s all new to their little arrangement. It’s also not the least bit helpful in proving that he’s not hopelessly in lo… And he had just brought up the stupid L word again!

“It’s getting late,” Sadie blurts, sitting up. “I… I should probably get going.”

“It was a joke,” Lars finds himself saying, locking an arm around her. “I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“I know, Lars” she mutters, her expression becoming impossible for him to read as she gently pushes his hand away with a soft sigh so she can crawl out of his bed. “I still think I should go...because it’s late.”

“Right,” he says a bit sourly, but a glance at the clock tells him it’s almost eleven p.m. This fact doesn’t improve his plummeting mood however.

“Right,” she parrots back weakly.

Lars sits up, watching her rush through the process of getting dressed, only to stubbornly glare down at his bed sheets when she turns to him after stomping into her shoes.

“I’m just gonna...you know, head out now.”

“Okay,” Lars responds, doing a pretty good job at sounding rather blase about the whole thing. If his mouth wasn’t twisted in such a deep frown, she might’ve believed he didn’t care one way or another. “Be safe, or whatever.”

She nods, but idly stands in place for a few seconds. He notices her lingering, finally looking at her again with a gleam of hope that she truly didn’t want to leave him. But she’s shaking her head at herself, seemingly coming to a decision as she walks to the door.

“Night, Lars. Happy birthday.”

“Night, Sades.”

#larsadie #lars and sadie #fanfiction #seasons inbetween #i dunno this is just uhhh yea lol

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jugandbettsdetectiveagency · 7 years

Text

Tacos and Tequila - Ch.3

Thank you for your wonderful love for this fic, once again. Now onto the tacos...

Ch.1 / Ch.2 / Read on AO3

Hour 3

Betty’s eyes had started to feel heavy the moment the movie started, but she’s fallen into an unsettled sleep around the time Lorelei and Dorothy manage to get Ernie Malone’s pants off in search of the roll of film. She startles awake in time to see Marilyn Munroe in her iconic pink dress for the final number; she’d always wanted a dress like that.

She glances over at Jughead who’s slipped down into the cushions, legs comfortably spread and fingers playing absentmindedly with the strand of hair that’s managed to escape his hat. His startlingly blue eyes look a little sleepy around the edges, and Betty is struck for the second time in the space of a few hours with thoughts of how handsome he is. The muted calm of the tequila is still swirling around her head, fogging her thoughts. He feels her gaze on his profile and turns to meet it, soft smile on his lips.

Betty’s stomach gurgles loudly and his smile turns into a grin as she blushes shyly.

“Hungry?” he asks with a quirk of his eyebrow. She nods, reaching for her phone to check the time. The bright numbers flash up reading 19:48 and she realises she hadn’t eaten since a hastily swallowed protein bar before getting into her car earlier. “Hang on.”

Betty jumps as he vaults over the arm of the chair, disappearing into his room before emerging a couple of minutes later, pajamas swapped for jeans, dark green jumper pulled over his head, and a thick wool-lined denim jacket draped over his shoulders. She looks up at him incredulously as he retrieves a pair of blue and red striped gloves out of his pocket and pulls them on.

“Why are you dressed like you’re going outside?” In the hours between arriving and finishing the movie Betty’s pretty sure the snow hasn’t let up – it’s probably increased if anything.

“Because we’re going outside,” he replies with a grin. “To get food.”

“Are you crazy? There’s probably like a foot of snow out there already, don’t you have food in here?” Jughead throws her a look.

“First of all, the crazy is debatable; it depends who you ask. And secondly, you’re in a room shared by two college freshmen. You’re lucky you’re not swimming through dirty laundry right now and you want a fully stocked kitchen as well? You’re expectations are a little too high there, Cooper.” Betty rolls her eyes at his spiel, standing hesitantly.

“But it’s freezing…” she starts to complain doubtfully. Jughead turns his eyes skyward, pushing his beanie more firmly over his ears.

“And thus God invented the winter coat. Come on, Betts – live a little!” The use of a newfound nickname causes her to start. Jughead appears not to have noticed, Betty quickly composing her features. His taunt niggles at her slightly and before she knows it she’s pulling her arms through her thick, tan trench coat and fishing through her belongings for her gloves. “That’s more like it,” he says through a smirk and she can’t help but let her eyes follow him affectionately as he opens the front door. Her fingers go to the elastic in her hair, releasing the waves in the hopes of keeping her ears warmer.

“I’ll concede, but only because I’m so hungry,” she grumbles half-heartedly as he locks the door.

“Your hair looks nice down.” The compliment is unexpected and so casual that Betty flounders for a moment. What puzzles her the most is that Jughead didn’t seem to have any ulterior motive in saying it, simply tossing it her way before starting down the hall. There’s no, Betty that’s a lovely sweater… but do you really think it goes with that skirt? She jogs a little to catch up once her legs unfreeze, tucking a strand behind her ear nervously before realising that defeats her ‘ear warmer’ strategy and flicking it back out again.

“Thank you,” she mumbles, eyes on the ground. “T-that’s a nice sweater.” She curses her own ineptitude, but is grateful for the companionable silence that settles over them as they descend the stairs. He holds the door open for her, waving her outside with an exaggerated gesture.

Betty’s foot sinks, calf deep, in white, downy snow. “Ugh.”

“Ugh? What do you mean ‘ugh’?” Jughead asks as if she’s personally offended him. Betty shrugs.

“I don’t know, I just grew up with this stuff – it’s a nuisance at best,” she explains. “I seriously considered going to school on the West Coast just to get away from the winters here if it wasn’t for my–” She pauses, not sure if sharing the secret of her overbearing mother and institutionalised sister this early in their acquaintance would be considered too much. Jughead looks at her expectantly. “I just got into Columbia, is all,” she finishes lamely.

“Congrats,” Jughead commends briefly, before continuing with his previous offence. “Not to sound all Hallmark but don’t you think snow is magical? Most people usually do,” he says, raising an eyebrow. His eyebrows are so expressive, Betty notices. She catches herself thinking about how unlike ‘most people’ she deems herself to secretly be, once again.

“West Coaster?” she guesses.

“Born and bred,” he grins. She nods, pleased with her correct assumption. “But really, there’s just something so peaceful about it; quiet. Everything shuts down if it’s heavy enough and you can sit inside,” Betty gives him a pointed look at this, gesturing to their surroundings. “You can sit inside once you’re fully supplied and just feel like you’ve got no responsibilities.” Betty understands what he means. Snowfall presses a pause button on the whole world for a moment or two. She’s in desperate need of pause.

“Yeah, you’re right,” she concedes with a small tilt of her lips, casting a quick look to Jughead out of the corner of her eye. Unexpectedly, he’s frowning.

“You don’t have to agree with me,” he says, shoving his hands deep in his jacket pockets. Betty feels her expression mirror his own. Here he was, trying to explain the merits of heavy snowfall to her, only to be upset when she agreed. She was lost.

“You’ve swayed me, I guess,” she replies with a shrug. Jughead peers at her from the corner of his eye for a few unnerving seconds before letting out a heavy sigh. The next moment his frown drops.

“Besides, there’s nothing better than untrodden snow,” he continues as if uninterrupted, kicking up a cloud with the toe of his boot. It’s true, she has some fond memories of waking up on snow days, heading into the front yard to build a fort and toss snowballs at Archie across the road as the little redheaded boy fired them back.

Betty’s eyes take on a mischievous glint as she bends down and quickly scoops up a handful of snow, squeezing it and throwing it in Jughead’s direction before he can blink. It thwacks the sleeve of his jacket before bursting into dust. Betty can’t help but let out a joyous giggle at the look of pure shock gracing his face.

“Oh, it is on.” Betty squeals as he bends down to retaliate, skipping as quickly as she can with the hindrance at her feet, away from his onslaught. She dodges his first throw swiftly, only to be hit in the back by his second. She ducks behind a lamp post to gather her ammo.

“You’re disturbing the peace!” she yells at him, rosy flush high on her cheekbones, snowflakes turning the tip of her nose pink.

“You started it, I’m merely following by example,” he returns as another snowball hits him square in the chest. He’s worked up a stock, however, throwing one after the other until she can’t dodge them anymore.

“Okay, I surrender!” she yelps, trying to get away as she feels some of the snow slip chillingly beneath the collar of her coat. Her foot hits an icy patch and suddenly she’s falling, eyes clenching shut as she braces for impact.

The feeling never comes, the warmth of a hard chest hitting her back instead.

“Careful,” Jughead murmurs, hands on her waist to steady her. She’s breathing a little faster than normal, and she’s not entirely sure it’s from the shock.

“Thanks,” she breathes, righting herself quickly. There’s colour on both his cheeks when she turns to look at him, but she’s sure it’s just from the biting cold. Betty clears her throat. “Where are we going anyway?” They fall back into step besides one another.

“There’s a market on the corner just up here,” Jughead points. “We can get some groceries, but that’s not what we’re having for dinner,” he adds with a flash of his smile.

“We’re not?”

“Nope,” he says, popping the p but not adding further explanation. The market is dead when they arrive, everybody already having retired for the storm. Betty picks up a few things for breakfast, knowing she isn’t going anywhere anytime soon. Thoughts of stocking up Archie’s cupboards so he has something to come back to invade her mind, but she pushes them down quickly. That’s not her responsibility; he’s not her responsibility.

Jughead rounds the corner, basket full with a rainbow of sweets and confectionary. Betty lifts a brow. He shrugs, following her to the checkout.

“Gotta have a varied diet,” he quips as she lifts items to the conveyor belt, shaking her head in mock disapproval.

***

“What is Mama’s?” she asks a few minutes later, nose scrunched delicately in unbridled disgust as they stand before a dingy looking shop, tucked just inside an alley way.

“Any student passing through here has to sample the delights of Mama’s late night tacos. It’s just a rite of passage,” Jughead explains, heading towards the door.

“You don’t exactly seem like a joiner,” Betty says, lowering her voice as they enter the shop. Jughead greets the man at the counter, ordering two specials quickly before turning back to look at her.

“Meaning?” Betty shifts under his gaze.

“Well… from what I’ve heard from Archie you seem like a bit of a loner,” she winces, aware that her words may sound a little harsh. A feeling of guilt curls around her stomach – partly for betraying Archie’s private conversations to her, and partly because Jughead has been nothing but accommodating since she arrived. The memory of his earlier description of her, no matter how frustrating, does little to ease the feeling. Jughead’s face is unreadable.

“True,” he finally says, and Betty lets out a breath she doesn’t realise she’s been holding. “But I’m always available when it comes to food.” Betty chuckles, accepting the polystyrene tray that’s handed to her.

“We have this place back home. It’s like a real old school diner with red vinyl booths and neon signs. Pop does the best milkshakes you’ve ever tasted, and his burgers can cure even the worst days,” she tells him with a reminiscent smile. The phantom smell of freshly cooked fries makes her chest clench, a homesickness she’s not used to feeling settling over her as she thinks of the kind old man with the warm brown eyes.

“Burgers? Sounds like my kind of place.”

“I’ll take you one day,” she tells him, the offhand comment coming out all on its own. Betty can’t be sure but she thinks she sees colour spreading across the base of his neck as he looks down at the floor.

“Is this safe to eat?” she asks once they’re on their way back again. “I mean, that place didn’t look the cleanest, and I’m not getting sick for some second rate taco when we’ve got perfectly good food now,” she worries. Jughead just shakes his head.

“Just wait, Betts. You’re gonna love it.” For some reason, she believes him.

#bughead #bughead fanfiction #bughead au #betty cooper #jughead jones #betty x jughead #riverdale #riverdale fanfiction #bughead fan fiction #jetty #writing

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buckywintersoldierbarnes2017 · 7 years

Text

Does Love Really Conquer All? - Part 3

Note: So here is the third part to the fic that helped me set up this entire blog. I ave the majority of the storyline figured out on my head but not sure just how long it will be yet. As usual all feedback is welcome! <3 I apologise for any spelling mistakes but unfortunately at this time of night there is only so much my eyes will allow me to notice and correct! :)

Bucky Barnes/The Winter Soldier x Reader

Words: 2,113

Warnings: Violence, flashbacks, death....think that’s it for this chapter!

Disclaimer: None of the GIFs used are mine. All credit goes to their wonderful creators <3

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

“Come on in doll, the water’s nice and cool!”

A half-naked Bucky stood waist deep in the water of the lake you had settled by for the day, a cocky little smirk making its way onto his lips as he tried to entice you in from the bank.

“Besides you Bucky, of which you are quite questionable yourself, I have no idea what could be lurking in that rather murky looking water….so I am quite happy right here thank you.”

He pulled out his bottom lip in an over-exaggerated pout before shrugging his shoulders and lowering himself into the water a little more so that it now covered his shoulders. Steve was further down the bank searching for frogs or some other slimy water creature and genuinely being the geekier one out of the three of you. Even on a beautiful summer day such as this one he was far more interested in studying than he was having fun….you and Bucky were going to need to have some serious words with him when he was done.

“Hey [y/n]?”

Speak of the devil…..

As you propped yourself up onto your elbows you looked up at him from the spot on the bank you were laying on as you prepared yourself for the onslaught of boring information he was about to reel off.

“Steve I love you dearly but if-“

“Can you tell me whether this is a frog or a toad because I really can’t decide….”

Before you could even respond he chucked whatever it was he was carrying in his hands at you. Needless to say that when you felt something slimy beginning to seep through the fabric of your summer dress you had never moved so fast in your life and as your scream echoed out you made a beeline for Bucky….completely ignoring the fact that he was still in the lake.

You threw your arms around his neck and immediately wrapped your legs around him. Steve’s hysterical laugh was the next thing you heard, as well as a low one coming from Bucky, and immediately your face hardened into a mean expression.

“Knew you would end up throwing yourself at me one day doll.”

“I hate you…..I hate both of you!”

* * * * * * * * * *

He was alive. The man you had been mourning, the man you’d thought had been killed in action, for a whole year was very much alive and kicking. You should have been shouting it from the rooftops, screaming at the remaining soldiers of his squadron to get out there and bring him back home, and yet you weren’t. There was every opportunity for you to do so but something was stopping you from doing so, the tiniest of feelings just niggling away in the farthest part of your mind.

He had been in that same terrifying compound that you had found yourself in. You didn’t know how long he had been there; whether it was soon after he died or if he had just been there for a short while, either way you could only assume that he had been through the same things they had started to do to you. When he had picked you up and carried you out of there you could sense a strength in him that you had never done so before, one that seemed almost inhuman with the amount of ease he seemed to perform the action with.

You had no idea what the injections were that the strange males had been pumping into you and you remembered hearing something about them scrambling his mind, so you couldn’t risk sending a whole load of the US military in after him….what if they thought he was now a danger because of what may have been done to him?

With war still looming over the country, and across the world for that matter, having been a fellow comrade wouldn’t prove to be at all helpful if you had spent far too long behind enemy lines. No….if you were going to find him you were going to have to do it yourself. But first you were going to need to get out of here without someone stopping you. They were already wanting to ask you questions which meant that you were going to be guarded; maybe not as obvious as someone standing outside the cubicle your bed was in but they would be somewhere nearby, keeping an eye on you.

“Miss [l/n]?” Any thoughts of escape were thwarted for the time being as another one of Bucky’s comrades stepped through the curtain that shielded you from others. He wasn’t one you had spoken to you a huge amount of times but as far as you were concerned he was safe to trust when he had once fought alongside the man you loved. You looked up at him, offering the smallest of smiles, before he sat himself at the edge of you bed. Although there was an air of professionalism about him even you couldn’t mistake the sad look that was enveloping his eyes as he tried his best to look at you as he spoke. “I need to take you over to the General. He has some questions for you. The doctor is with him as well to go over the results of your tests.”

He was hiding something, you knew that much for sure, because if that was all that needed to be done he would have been looking you in the eyes. The palms of your hands were beginning to sweat as they clutched a little tighter onto the bed sheets underneath you but you nodded your head in response anyway and stood yourself up; whatever it was you may as well get it over and done with sooner rather than later.

“I’m sorry by the way.” The walk out of the infirmary had been silent between the two of you until the young soldier finally spoke up and caught your attention. “…about Sergeant Barnes and Captain Rogers. I know they meant a lot to you.”

The news about Steve was too fresh for you and already your eyes were stinging from the build-up of tears inside of them. Before war broke out the three of you had done everything together, you were never apart even when the relationship between you and Bucky had developed into something else entirely, to now have neither of them by your side? It just made you more determined to find out what was happening to the man you’d thought to be dead. If there was the chance to bring just one of them back you would go to the ends of the earth to do so.

“Thank you.”

The cold night air hit your tired face as you found yourself being led across an empty courtyard between the different buildings that littered the base. Immediately you looked around, taking note of the fact that this area didn’t seem to be as well-guarded as others, and then as you looked back at the male in front of you the decision was made. It was now or never. If you got to your destination with him you didn’t know how long they would hold you for – the longer it took you to get back to that compound the less likely Bucky would still be there.

“I’m sorry too.”

“For what?”

He turned to face you, the confusion he felt evident in the words he spoke, but before he had even fully turned on the balls of his feet you sent a balled up fist towards his face. You had never hit anyone before in your life, not maliciously anyway, and you didn’t expect this first attempt of yours to achieve much so when it connected with his face and sent him careering across the courtyard a good 10 foot or so you wondered if you had imagined the whole thing. You glanced down at your hand, mouth agape, as you felt something surging through your whole body.

There was no way you were that strong. The guy was a well-trained soldier.

The darkness that had enveloped the base stopped you from being able to see where his unconscious form had landed but you could hear a muffled groaning coming from whatever direction he had gone in. If there was a time to get out of here this would be it. As soon as he was coherent enough to do so he would call out for help and then there wouldn’t be any hope of getting out of here.

Without a second thought you started to sprint to the farthest side of the courtyard you were in. The military hospital gown you were wearing didn’t leave much to the imagination as the wind blew through the flimsy fabric of it revealing your bare arse on more than one occasion. As soon as the perimeter of the base came into view you made quick work of the metal fence…thanking the stars that you had been one of the top students in athletics back in school. What you hadn’t contemplated was the barbed wire that decorated the top of it.

As you launched your body over it you could feel the razor-sharp edges tearing through your skin. Preventing yourself from crying out you bit down into your bottom lip before letting yourself fall to the ground with a heavy thud, knocking the very air out of your lungs. There was a chance you may have overestimated your ability a little there. Your eyes travelled down to your arms that had been shredded by the wire, expecting to see a whole heap of a mess, but there was nothing…..each and every wound had healed as though it had never been there in the first place.

“Damn…”

There was no other word you could even think of to describe the state of confusion you were currently in and you would have no time to think of any either as the alarms started to sound out. You needed to get away from here…..and fast. You had no sense of where you were other than a very vague location but if you found him once you would find him again.

* * * * * * * * * *

Your legs had carried you a whole lot faster than they had ever done before, amazingly so, and almost like you had some sort of in-built radar you managed to find your way back to the compound you had been taken to against your will. As you leaned yourself up against a tree just outside the perimeter and the adrenaline from your run dissipated you began to wonder just why it had been so easy for you to locate where you had been held.

An organisation that were sick enough to actually experiment on human beings were hardly going to advertise that they were there.

“You shouldn’t be here.”

“Bu-“

His name hadn’t even left your lips when you felt a crushing sensation around you throat. It was dark but the light from the moon illuminated the one part of him that you had always found yourself drowning in…..those enchanting blue eyes of his. Only there was no more life inside of them. They were dead, stone cold, and completely void of any emotion. He had no idea who you were.

The grip his metal appendage had on you crushed your airway, instantly cutting off the vital air supply you needed, a hoarse gasp escaped your lips buy you made damn sure you kept your eyes trained on him. If he was in there somewhere then you didn’t want to miss him coming through. But he didn’t….and when the former shadow of the man you loved had grown bored of your gasps he ended your suffering by snapping your neck and discarding your lifeless body down the steep embankment you had been stood near.

FOUR HOURS LATER.

Your body forced you to take in a large intake of air, an audible gasp escaping you as it did, just as your eyes snapped open. The glazed look that they had once sported transformed as your hues turned back to their usual [e/c] colour and you were faced with the soggy ground of the embankment that had been your ‘final resting place’.

You had felt him snap your neck. Not only did you hear your own bones cracking in his grip but you had felt the split second of sheer agonising pain as the fateful damage had been done to you, as he practically severed the top portion of your spinal cord…..so how the hell were you alive and breathing???

* * * * * * * * * *

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#does love really conquer all?#bucky x reader #hydra #steve rogers #captain america #steve rogers x reader #james buchanan barnes #marvel imagine #not my gifs #fic #buckywintersoldierbarnes2017 #bucky barnes x reader #the winter soldier #the winter soldier x reader #captain america x reader

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nish-e-r-r-o-r-neesh · 7 years

Note

I was wondering if you could do solangelo? And nico is a hockey player, who doesn't really listen and gets in fight all the time, or something of the sort. And then Will could be a medic for the games, who always has to deal with nicos injuries, or he could be a new assistant coach, trying to deal with nico never listening? It would be lovely if you could. P.s. I love your blog.

Yaaay! Solangelo!!!

Here’s the hockey-themed fic! Thanks anon!~ So I don’t know much hockey terms so I’m sorry if I got a thing or two wrong about hockey gameplay :3

Hope you like it anyway!

“Benefitsof Being a Medic”

Solangelo HockeyAU!

Summary: Willwas sure he signed up to be a medic, not a guidance counselor. Still, listeningto the complaints of his most frequent clinic visitor, star hockey-player NicoDi Angelo, was all worth it.

________________________________________________

Will was a hundred percent certain he’d signed up to be amedic, not a guidance counselor.

Another thing was he was supposed to be a medic for game-related injuries. He wasn’t reallysure if getting hit with a hockey stick in the face right after a final matchcounted, but he was pretty sure it didn’t.

The medic listened, albeit a little half-heartedly, at theblack haired and rather scrawny looking boy whose sprained wrist he waspatching up.

Said boy, Nico Di Angelo, didn’t look to have the build orstrength befitting that of a hockey player. But the seemingly sinewy limbspacked a lot more punch than expected. He was an exceptional player and a greatbenefit to the team—so much that even medics like Will knew that. And hisextraordinary gameplay was probably the only thing keeping him from gettingthrown off the team.

From all the gossip going around, Will gathered that Nicowas rather anti-social and wouldn’t give a rat’s ass for any other teammate.Ever. His temper was a paper-thin floodgate trying to hold back an onslaught ofrage at any given moment, and every other member made no show of trying to hidetheir displeasure for their teammate.

Will however, found him to be… different. He landed at theclinic often enough, Will even considered him to be a friend of sorts. Histendency to never listen and go his own way, as the coach put it, often landedhim in trouble or injury—and this time was no exception.

“It’s that asshole’s fault, I’m telling you!” Nico huffed.He sat on the clinic table opposite Will, letting his wrist get wrapped in abandage. “I was going to score that goal—I swear to you, I was!—but thatjackass Valdez dove in at the wrong time.He wasn’t supposed to be in that position! Any other position and Iwould’ve scored but no, he had to bethere!” Nico growled again, scratching at the pale skin surrounding the firststrands of the bandage.

This had happened before. They would be playing a certaingameplay and Nico, never really caring to listen to debriefings, ended up goingout of gameplay resorting in injury or losing a score. However, Will knewbetter than to point that out.

“So,” he started, wrapping another layer around the injury.“How exactly did you sprain your wrist?”

Nico glared darkly at said wrist. “Valdez deserved a hockeystick to the face. Just didn’t expect him to retaliate, though.” He let out acold laugh, which quickly turned into something more humorous when Willsmirked.

“I bet his face was bleeding all over.” The blond medicchuckled. His little quirk was rewarded with a sparkle in the other boy’s darkeyes.

“You tell me,” he said. “It was… Kayla, who patched him up,right?”

Will nodded. “Oh yeah. Man, you must’ve hit him hard enoughto score a goal. I think he was even crying about his ‘beautiful nose beingbroken forever’.”

Nico cracked up again, and, for the millionth time since thehockey star’s first landing in Will’s clinic, the medic wondered how morepeople never got to know this side of him. Sure, he understood how Nico wasunlikable at first, but a simple talk with him led to so much more.

He could be funny, though his humor was mostly dark, but hehad a pretty crappy family life to give it some validation. Even so, he oftenmade jokes about a lot of things. He had an interest in an old board game,Mythomagic, which was not something one expected from an ‘emo-boy’ like him.Will found it to be cute. He also had a special love for McDonald’s happymeals.

Upon learning that, Will had bought a happy meal the verynext day to give to the boy when he—sure enough—showed up to the clinic. Hedeclined it at first, flustered and dumbfounded, but Will was persistent andthey ended up sharing the happy meal together.

Ever since, Will would buy a happy meal for lunch and they’dshare. On some occasions however, Nico would insist on buying when Will wasperfectly fine with his self-taken duty. Their little argument went on forsometime until they’d decided to alternate on who’d buy lunch each week. Thisweek was Will’s turn.

“Looks like you’re good,” The medic declared, getting upfrom his stool. Nico followed suit.

Quickly shuffling through his bag, Will pulled out a happymeal and turned to present it to the other. “So how does lunch sound?” heasked, grinning ear-to-ear.

Nico rolled his eyes. “Yeah, sure.” He tested his wrist, cringing visibly as heput a little too much pressure. He stopped however, when Will gave him awarning glare.

Now, glaring at Nico DiAngelo was something that was boundto land one in a clinic themselves, with the exception of the case in whichyou’re Will Solace. For reasons unknown to many, Will could get away with a lotof social interaction with the ill-tempered hockey player without gettingpunched in the face.

Will liked to think he’d earned Nico’s trust and became arather good friend. Although constantly having to deal with the injuries was apain, all the talks and interaction would make Will’s time worth it. He wasdrawn to the boy for… some reason. Maybe it was because he was different? Orbecause he saw something in him that not many other people did?

According to Nico himself, during one serious talk they’dhad—which left Will awake past two in the morning thinking about itafterward—the only other person he’d ever considered a close friend was hislate sister Bianca. Everything was already hell in his home, and when she diedthings became worse.

Will had hoped that ‘only other person’ meant he was that other ‘close friend’. Hedecided never to push his luck that muchthough.

Getting to be something like Nico’s friend, although neverofficially declared, was good enough—for now at least.

So he listened to Nico’s annoyed complaints about the turnof the previous game as they made their way through the halls. Once out thefront door, Will basked in the glory of warm afternoon sunlight. For a moment,Nico watched him playfully from the side, then called for him to sit on one ofthe front lawn’s benches.

They would sometimes eat in the stands too, but Will oftenfound it too cold. He wouldn’t say anything, but was thankful when Nicosuggested to dine outside instead.

Now, they chewed their burgers and fries in silence.

No, it wasn’t an awkward or tense silence. It wascomfortable, really. Almost a hundred-and-eighty-degree spin on Nico’s earliermood. He liked to keep quiet during the first few moments of their lunches,savoring the meal and maybe even the company.

It took a good five minutes before Nico spoke up.

“So, Will,” he started through a partially filled mouth.“You’re off-duty on Saturday, Right?”

“Mhm,” Will nodded, sipping his coke. The two went back towatching the cars move past them on the street for another minute or so, thenNico spoke up again.

“Do you want to, maybe, catch a movie or something?”

What.

Was he…?

Will stopped sipping his coke.

“Like… I think a new Avenger’s movie is coming up. I mean…you are into superhero movies, right?Or maybe… not into them, but like, you likethem, right? Uh… I just thought maybe you’d wanna watch it together orsomething.”

Holy heck, he was.

“Um, l-like a date?” Oh wow. How smooth, Will.

He watched as Nico flushed. No chance of hiding anythingwith his pale skin.

“I mean, not exactly a date!” The boy hastily clarified. Helooked back to the busy street as his blush only grew. Then a little morequietly, he added, “I mean… not if you don’t want it to be.”

Oh.

Maybe Will did havea chance after all.

Clothing choices and breath mints were already runningthrough his mind before he even had a chance to say yes. It took him maybe asolid three minutes and a disappointed huff from Nico to snap out of histrance.

“O-of course!” He stammered, blushing a bit himself. Hehonestly never expected to get that lucky.“It’s a date then! Friday. I’ll pick you up at your place…?”

Nico looked up, his blush now hiding behind an amused andslightly wild smile. “Woah, hold on there, cowboy. You don’t even know where Ilive. Tell you what, I’ll meet you at the movie house at two o’clock, ‘kay?”

The two then shared a laugh, more from relief than anything,as they finished the last of their happy meal. Things settled back into acomfortable silence. Will was definitely looking forward to Saturday.

“You know,” he said, after a moment. “It’s not an Avenger’smovie. Civil War is a Captain America movie.”

Nico gave him a quizzical look, his blush not fully settlingjust yet. Will found it cute. “But… they were all in the trailer, right? Imean, Iron Man and Black Widow and a bunch of others were there…

“Yeah, but it isn’t an Avenger’s movie. I was prettyconfused too.”

“Oh. Well, we’ll still watch it, right?” It was probablythat little hitch of doubt in Nico’s voice that sent Will into a mild panicattack.

“Of course! It’s settled, I promise.”

And it was probably that little smile he flashed back thatmade Will feel that, even though he didn’t sign up to be Nico’s guidancecounselor over gaming frustration, it was all pretty damn worth it.

____________________________________

Hope you liked it!

#Percy Jackson and the Olympians #heroes of olympus #fanfiction #solangelo #solangelo fanfiction #hockey au #sports #au #will solace #nico di angelo #will #nico #fanfic

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