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5sospenguinqueen · 5 years

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BIG FUCKS SMALL - Alfie Solomons

PLOT: Alfie’s riled up and starts an argument with you but quickly gets distracted by how small you are compared to him.

WARNING: Smut, language, size kink

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Alfie Solomons liked to pretend that he always knew what he was doing, that he always had a plan, and that he was never afraid of anything. It wasn’t true. The majority of his negotiations with Tommy Shelby was him blabbing crap until he confused the man, and the other half was him putting on a bored bravado. However, the moment you had gotten pulled into the mess with the Shelby’s and the Italians, his fear came out in anger.

You had been up in the offices, finishing some last minute paperwork unaware of who had just entered the building, until a man carrying a gun barged into the room and grabbed you. Dragging you down to the warehouse, you tried fighting back, swearing, screaming, but nothing would budge the Italian gangster pining your arms behind your back. When Alfie saw you, his face flickered into worry for a microsecond before feigning indifference.

“Who’s this?” Luca Changretta demanded, gripping your face and forcing you to look at Alfie.

“Just my secratery. Nobody of importance.” Alfie lied, clenching the table beneath him with such strength that the flimsy wood began groaning.

“So it would make no difference if I killed her then?”

“Well, yes, it would. Because then I’d have to find myself a new fucking secratery. Do you know how fucking annoying that process is? And having to find someone to trust? Ducking nuisance. I mean, kill her if you really want to but you’ll have to add another hundred.”

Eyes widening at Alfie’s non-chalant attitude, you made yourself a reminder to yell at him for it later. 1) because Luca Changretta would definitely kill you and 2) because he’d priced you so low. Thankfully, Alfie managed to bullshit his way through the whole thing and annoy Changretta so much that the Italians left you and Alfie in the warehouse, alone and alive.

“How dare you?” You seethed, marching up to him. “I don’t care how confident you act. Don’t you ever tell the fucking mafia to just ‘kill me if they want’. Fucking prick.”

“What the fuck were you still doing at the office? You told me you fucking going home?!” Alfie yelled, glaring down at you, chest puffing out.

“I had work to do so that you wouldn’t throw a hissy fit tomrorow. But I suppose rum doesn’t matter when you’re selling out Tommy fucking Shelby.”

“Keep your mouth shut!” Alfie snarled, grabbing your forearms in his.

Pushing you back until you bumped into the wall, he trapped you there with his arms, pinning you to the cold brick wall of the warehouse. He loved how you fit into the cage of his arms perfectly, holding your breath to see what your giant of a husband would do next. Glancing down at his little firecracker, he couldn’t notice how small your arms were in his giant hands. Or how you barely reached his bearded chin. Your small frame shrouded by the shadow of his large one. He marvelled at how much sarcasm and rage could fit into such a petite frame.

“You’re so cute when you’re angry, love.”

He knew it would only set you off more, and he was correct when your cheeks flushed red and your nostrils flared. Raising your hands to shove him away from you, he grabbed both of them in one giant palm and chuckled at the small size of your hands compared to his calloused ones. Dropping them, he cupped your face in his hands tightly and smirked when you poured up at him, annoyed at him for using his size and strength to stop you from hitting him.

“It’s only because I love you, little bird.” He hummed, moving to press his lips against yours in a, surprisingly, gentle kiss.

“I love you too, dick.” You giggle, pulling him down so you could kiss him back, brushing your nose against his.

Groaning at the pain in his back, he straightened his spine, taking you with him as he wrapped your legs around his waist and pressing you against the wall once more. Placing a kiss against Alfie’s pulse point, lust filled you when he let out a deep groan, his pants tightening.

Capturing your lips with his once more, Alfie deepened the kiss, brushing his tongue against yours with such passion that you began unbuttoning his pants. Tossing you over his shoulder as if you weighed nothing, he chuckled when you slapped his ass in protest. Walking over to the huge table he’d been previously leaning against, he swept everything off it, not caring about the mess. Smacking your ass, he placed you down on the table and allowed you to trap him there by wrapping your legs around the back of his thighs.

Leaning down to kiss you once more, he allowed you to shimmy his trousers down his muscular thighs, quickly followed by his underwear. Groaning as you pumped him, he moaned loudly at the sight of your dainty hand wrapped around his throbbing member. Whilst Alfie was a fairly large man, he always looked huge with your hand or mouth around him.

Wasting no time, he ripped your panties down your legs, flinging them into some dark corner of the warehouse (for some scarred workers to find in the morning). Sinking to his knees, he pushed your dress up before throwing your legs onto his shoulders and lowering his head. Your breath hitched before he’d even done anything making him chuckle between your thighs, his cool breath hitting your wetness. His beard tickles your thighs making you attempt to close them but he forced them apart, giving you a look to behave. You gasped as his tongue pressed against your clit, swirling circles on the sensitive bud.

“Fuck, Alfie. Please.” You whimpered, small hands tangling into his hair and pulling it. Relishing in the feeling of your hands in his hair, he moaned against you, hand creeping up to grope your breast.

Your head dropped back, banging on the table and causing you to shoot back up, rubbing it slightly. Chuckling at your clumsiness, he relieved your pain by delving his tongue into you, causing you to let out a loud string of profanities that would have your mother giving you a slap. Gripping his arms, you squeezed tightly as you tried to continue the moans spilling out of you. He grew harder at the sight of your hands barely making it around his muscles. Pulling away from you before you could finish, he climbed atop you, bracing himself with his arms.

“Fuck me, Alfie. Please.” You begged, staring up at him with doe eyes.

Hovering over you, he slowly pushed himself into you, revelling in the little gasps you let out as you adjusted to his thickness. Bottoming out, he closed his eyes at the warmth wrapped around his cock.

“Still as tight as the first time I fucked ya.” He grunted, thrusting in and out slowly, agonisingly so.

“Eyes open, dove.” His voice deep and hoarse as he gripped your chin and forced you to look at him.

His hair was dishevelled, his shirt gaping open at the top, sweat beading down his forehead and his mouth slightly agape as pleasure coursed through him. Despite his temper and often, stupidity, he was your husband and you loved him. He was protective and stubborn. Caring and sweet. And two times bigger than you which you loved.

Glancing down, he watched as he plunged in and out of you, marvelling at how big he looked and how well you took him. Feeling his orgasm nearing, he buried his head in your neck, sucking at your sweet spot and coaxing breathy moans from you. Picking up his pace, he grunted, ignoring the horrible screeching noise the table made as it began scraping along the floor.

“Fuck, come on, love. Cum for me.” He grunted, trying not to squash you as he lost himself in the pleasure of your walls clenching around him.

“Alf-.” You whimpered, wrapping your legs around his back and forcing him deeper into you. “Oh, fuck!” You squealed when he hit your spot.

Gently biting his shoulder as your orgasm hit you, your back arched off the table and Alfie wrapped his arms around, pulling you flush against him. He loved cradling you in his arms. Thrusting into you particularly roughly, he let out a strangled moan as he came deep inside you.

Lying down on the table, he pulled you on top of him as he attempted to catch his breath. Placing a kiss atop your head as your snuggled against his broad chest, he whispered how much he loved you into your hair.

“Maybe we’ll have made our own little one this time.” He prayed, eyes closing as he prayed he would be able to make a family with you before it was too late.

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Had to add that ending after knowing what I know after S4 E6

#alfie solomons imagine #alfie solomons smut #alfie solomons #the peaky blinders imagines #the peaky blinders #peaky blinders imagines #peaky blinders smut #peaky blinders #tom hardy imagine #tom hardy smut #tom hardy #5sospenguinqueen

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azspot · 4 years

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How I’d be so thrilled to be wrong, but anyone with half a brain in America instantly knows the Republican Party hates liberals and Democrats, the last thing they want is Unity for equal economic and social rights. Not only that, they have a huge, roaring media apparatus in Fox/Sinclair News and talk radio, along with a grossly dysfunctional American journalism corps, they can hissy fit into weeks of media rage that will bludgeon political opponents—unless they’re completely prepared for it.

Can the Democrats Close Their Ears to All the Screeching?

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rambling-at-midnight · 4 years

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A Handmaiden’s Lies: Part 2

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

About a year has passed since Tom last visited Avenge. He and his men spent quite a fair amount of time at Deesee, a neighboring kingdom known for mining precious jewels. In fact, they spent more time there than they normally did, so Tom cut their visit to the kingdom of Thanatoia short. It’s not like he and his men stick to a schedule or anything; they vaguely circulate between the three kingdoms to escape harsh winters and authority figures out for their heads.

It’s just that… well.

Not a day passed where Tom didn’t think of you. He was anxious and worried that something could happen to you and the way he’d find out is by waking up and discovering that the words on his forearm were gone. Or that you would find someone else and it would just be another cruel joke played by the universe to show Tom yet again that he is unlovable. Or that you would simply forget about him.

“Worrying is normal,” Haz told him again and again. “Soulmates aren’t meant to be apart for so long. It’s like how you would be worried for me if I was lost, only… worse.”

A lot worse, Tom had mentally agreed every time.

But now he’s back. Surely you’ll come to visit, right? You’ll hear about him and his men back in the kingdom you’re so protective of and you’ll come to check on them to make sure nobody’s misbehaving.

Right?

No.

A full week passes and nothing. Tom’s seething. Haz and Paddy let all the horses out of a rich man’s stable four days ago. Sam and Harry robbed a bank at gunpoint three days ago. William stole a carriage and Tomas crashed it yesterday.

Nothing.

And Tom’s livid. It’s been entirely too long and you’re ignoring him and he can hardly march up to the castle and demand to see you, can he? Especially because he doesn’t even know your name.

That’s a big part of why he’s angry. You know his. Tom hadn’t even bothered to ask you what yours is. So, really, if you decide to stay away for life, Tom can hardly stop you, can he?

So that is why he is walking up Iron Street, throwing Molotov cocktails at every carriage he sees.

Well, every empty carriage. You’re already going to be pissed about the property damage. Killing someone might be crossing the line.

Tom cheerfully lights another rag and hurls it at a red-and-gold carriage. How dare these people be wealthy when Tom and his men live in squalor. How dare these families be unbroken when his own parents told him he was unlovable at seven years old and left him and his brothers at an orphanage. How dare these couples be happy when Tom’s own soulmate wants nothing to do with him.

“That’s enough,” Z says at his side. “I’m sure she’ll get the hint.”

Tom snorts as he surveys the chaos. People running and yelling, carriages and carts going up in flames, and no one has the nerve to tell Tom to stop. Everyone knows by now that the Holland gang comes by every spring and they leave when they damn well please.

Someone shoves Tom from behind hard and he goes sprawling.

Already snarling, Tom jumps to his feet and turns around. His hands and knees sting from taking a fall on hard, unforgiving pebbles, and his pride is even more bruised but all that is forgotten when he sees who his assailant is.

“You call this a hint?” you snap at Zendaya with surprising ferocity.

“What’s your name?” Tom blurts out immediately. He might just die if you don’t transfer your attention back to him this very second.

Your mouth drops open wide and you just blink at Tom. Your hair is coming out of its braid and two pink spots of anger have appeared high on your cheekbones. You look simultaneously exactly like and nothing like the statue you’d been when Tom first met you. Finally you say slowly, “You destroy my kingdom with acts of terrorism, threaten my people’s lives, and steal our hard-earned money all because of a hissy fit that you don’t know my name?”

Tom winces. When you say it like that, it doesn’t sound as reasonable as it had been in Tom’s head. “I knew you’d never meet me otherwise.”

“Let’s go back to the camp,” Zendaya suggests. She doesn’t quail under the thunderous look you send her way. “That way you two can talk in private.”

Tom bites his lip anxiously. Thank God, but you say yes, and follow Zendaya as she leads the way out of the partially burnt capital city.

Tom studies your face as he walks. You’re just as beautiful as he remembers—more, even, if that is even possibly. But he also notices dark circles under your eyes, a bandage on your right pointer finger, and shoulders that slump slightly. The clues are faint but there and Tom’s chest floods with rage and concern at the thought of you being anything less than healthy.

“What happened to your finger?” he asks quietly.

You shake your head. “I just burnt it on a candle. It’s not a big deal.” Your hand goes to your skirt. Now Tom sees that there is something in a pocket he hadn’t noticed. He can see its outline as you walk.

His soulmate wouldn’t try to hurt him, Tom reasons. There’s no reason to be worried about something in your pocket that could be, quite literally, anything.

You manage the trek to the camp through the forest quite well, though you are breathing heavier by the time you arrive. Tom hopes he just imagines the condescending look Zendaya sends you. He wants the two most important women in his life to get along.

Haz looks up at your arrival. To Tom’s surprise, his face splits into a great grin when he sees you. You let out a squeak as his arms encircle your body.

Tom tries not to be jealous that his best mate is hugging his soulmate—actually lifting you into the air. He fails miserably and Zendaya snickers as she links hands with George.

“What are you doing?” you manage. Tom gets the feeling you’d be shoving Haz away if your arms weren’t trapped at your side with his.

“It’s a hug,” Harrison replies, setting you down. Confusion flashes over his features. “You do know what a hug is, don’t you?”

“Of course I do,” you scoff. “But I have no idea who you are other than the boy who tried to choke me last year. So—”

“You’re family now,” Harrison shrugs. For the second time in as many hours, you’re at a loss for words. “I’m Harrison, by the way.”

You ease your hand into his outstretched one and give it a loose shake. Tom doesn’t miss the way you drop Haz’s hand as quick as you can and then wipe your hand on your skirt. “Y/N.”

He scowls. What, you’re too good to shake hands with a criminal now? Your own soulmate is a gang leader.

Then again, he knows your name now.

“Where’s your friend?” Tomas asks loudly. He’d spotted you and, still bearing a grudge from last year when you’d called him some unsavory words, is more than happy to needle you. Unfortunately, his raised tone draws attention. Suddenly there’s a crowd watching your every move, eager to pounce on weakness after that commotion you’d caused last year.

Tom spots Paddy pushing his way through the crowd, eyes fixed solely on you with a thunderous expression on his face.

Shit. He doesn’t know you’re his soulmate. Tom hadn’t told anyone but Haz. He hadn’t really had a choice about that, too; an explanation was necessary when Haz had seen his arm. Something told Tom you wouldn’t want the news spread, considering you wanted him to leave so badly. Judging by your raised eyebrows and head tilted towards Haz, it was the right call.

“I’m quite flattered to see you all remember me,” you say. “I must have made quite the impression.”

Beside Tom, Zendaya snorts. “You’re not going to be able to handle this one, Tom. This is going to be hilarious.” Wait—does she know? Tom looks at Z, who winks. Shit.

“I must be extremely special,” you continue, “for a group of half-witted common thieves to remember me when I can hardly even expect them to remember what they had for breakfast.”

That does it. Paddy lunges at you as people start to shout. Then William, who was still struggling to understand what you said, sees Paddy lunge at you and bawls, “Fight!” He then proceeds to uppercut Tomas right into Sam, and it all gets worse from there.

“Aw, hell,” Tom mutters, surveying the camp full of brawling kids. He sighs and sidesteps around two camp girls who are screeching and clawing at each other. You’re being pinned by Paddy, his arm pressed against your throat. “Paddy, stop!” He orders sharply. His little brother looks up at that, scowling, and you use the distraction to bring your knee up between his legs and bite down on his arm. Paddy spits out some unsavory words and rolls off of you.

“You were goading them,” Tom remarks with a half-laugh as he surveys the camp. You huff, standing up and rubbing at your neck with a vague look of consternation.

“Hardly.” You smooth your hair with one hand. “I’d barely started. One couldn’t dare to call one step a footrace, would they?” Maybe you had more to say, but Paddy lunges for you again.

“Where’re your Chiefs now, handmaiden?” he goads. “Maybe you’re not as important as you think to your—”

Tom steps forward, teeth grinding both at the cynical anger that his brother—his subordinate—is disobeying his orders, and the instinctual rage that someone else is touching you, someone else is hurting you—but he jerks to a halt when an arrow seemingly sprouts from a tree beside Paddy. It misses Tom’s brother by less than an inch.

“I’d say they’re still here,” you grunt from where you are underneath Paddy, “but I think that message has been received.”

“Get off her, Paddy,” Tom orders. For once his brother listens.

How you manage to look dignified as you sit up, Tom doesn’t know. You rise to your feet gracefully, still looking like all this is beneath you even though you’ve got a bloody lip and a skinned elbow. Tom doesn’t think even Zendaya could look so cool under pressure. Then again, Z rarely has legendary, mystical Chiefs guarding her ass.

“What, you need the trump card to win a fight?” Paddy snarls. “Typical. You castle women—”

“Patrick goddamn Holland!” Tom barks. “Listen to me: back. Off. If you can’t listen to my orders then don’t follow us.”

“Where are you going?” the younger Holland asks, the shock of being referred to by his birth name distracting him from the attack mission he’d set himself on earlier. He has the decency to look sheepish when he runs his hand through his hair, transforming from a rabid wolf about to pounce to a curious dog.

“To my tent,” Tom answers, “to talk.”

“Why?” Paddy asks. It’s the straw that breaks the horse’s back. “What could she—”

“None of your goddamn business!” Tom snaps. “Now you fix up this mess you started while the grownups talk!”

A stony expression sets his jaw. Paddy spins on his heel. Tom almost calls out to him, especially when Zendaya remarks that his reaction had been a bit harsh.

“Holland set very clear instructions and the boy failed to follow them,” you counter as Paddy clears up the fighting. “Everyone must learn their place eventually.”

Tom glances at you but your expression is unreadable. It sounded like you were giving him a compliment. Or at least saying that Tom wasn’t in the wrong.

“But Paddy was right,” Harrison admits while holding up the entrance to Tom’s tent and ducking inside. “What is there to discuss? I mean, I’m sure we have extra tents but you’ll probably just sleep in Tom’s, right?”

Tom grimaces. So he hadn’t told Haz about you not being in a particular hurry to get together. The strangled choke you let out while entering doesn’t encourage him at all.

“I did not come here to discuss anything of that sort,” you say primly, making yourself at home by settling down and arranging your skirt. Instinctively everyone else sits down as well. You just have that ‘leader’ sort of aura. Tom doesn’t have to wonder why you’re the queen’s assistant.

“So it’s true,” Zendaya remarks. “I thought so when I saw the words on your arm, Tom, but I wasn’t sure.”

“Who exactly knows about our situation?” you ask with exasperation as you turn to Tom.

“I’m sorry, what’s the ‘situation’ here?” Harrison asks. Tom can see his friend’s face going thunderous but can’t catch his eye to tell Haz to stop, as he’s staring resolutely at you.

“I have a kingdom to run,” you snap. “Once things are calmer then maybe—”

“I’m sorry, isn’t it the queen’s job to run Marvel?” Zendaya interrupts. “You’re just her assistant.”

“I—we—it is a group effort. No man can take on a mountain.” You flick a piece of dirt off of your skirt.

“Oh, honey, you’re still bleeding,” Zendaya notices.

“What?” you put one hand to your lip. Your fingertips come away red. “Oh. I thought…”

“So you don’t care that Tom’s your soulmate?” Harrison interrupts. Zendaya dabs at your lip with one of Tom’s spare shirts she’d found lying on the floor. Tom is too invested in waiting for your answer to be embarrassed by his messy living space.

“Of course I do!” you reply, affronted. Tom sucks in a breath of air that is entirely too ragged and loud. “But as I’ve said before, I have bigger things to worry about.” You push Zendaya away.

Harrison casts his eyes to Tom, who’s sitting subdued in his chair, eyes on the ground. Because Tom sure won’t say it, Harrison tells you that excuse is a steaming pile of crap.

Your lip curls and eyes flash dangerously. Before Tom can say ‘Oh, no’ you’re on your feet. “I don’t care what a bastard reject boy thinks of me or my reasoning. Holland is not the only person whose feelings have to be considered in this situation. I am—”

Harrison spits on your skirt, no doubt regretting the hug he’d greeted you with. You close your eyes and look up, a muscle ticking in your jaw.

“Haz,” Tom warns. He lets the blond get away with a lot more than most, but he’s rapidly approaching a line it would be best not to cross.

“Dude, I cannot believe how bad your luck can be sometimes!” Harrison exclaims. “Typical Holland luck strikes again. Out of everyone in the world, you got paired up with this bitch! What are the odds that you get the worst soulmate—”

“Enough!” Tom yells. It’s too late. Zendaya is already grabbing your arm and pulling you out of the tent. “Nice, Haz.”

Harrison scowls. “Hey, I’m calling it like I see it. There’s got to be a mistake. No way the universe hates you that much.”

“Haz, even we know about the brewing war between Marvel and Thanatoia,” Tom reasons. “Once that’s all over we can be together.”

“Have you seen her, mate?” Harrison demands, snapping his fingers in front of Tom like that’s going to wake him up. “Why would you want to be with that?”

“Because she’s my soulmate,” Tom says stubbornly.

Harrison rolls his eyes. “You poor stupid son of a bitch.”

“Excuse me?”

“Soulmates don’t always work out, Tom,” Harrison points out. “And people marry people that aren’t their soulmate all the time. Just because you’re most compatible with Y/N doesn’t mean you’re not moderately compatible with someone else.”

“She has to love me,” Tom insists. “Y/N’s my soulmate.”

He stomps out of the tent and looks around for Zendaya and George’s tent. If he can just talk to you longer, Tom will be able to convince you to give them a try. He knows he can.

As he draws nearer to the tent, he can’t help himself; he stops outside to listen to the conversation.

“—really very excited,” Zendaya says. “The year was practically torture for him, and I can tell it was for you as well.”

You must shake your head or open your mouth to contradict her, because Z tells you not to lie.

“Trust me,” she continues, “I’ve spent enough time away from my soulmate to know what you were going through. You’re tough as hell to make it a whole year but everyone here already knows that. You don’t need to prove more.”

There’s silence inside the tent for so long Tom is about to walk away when you ask, “Can you tell me about him?”

A shocked smile spreads across Tom’s face.

“Well, Tom is a total softie,” Zendaya starts with. “He loves dogs in particular but he likes all animals except birds and lizards.”

You giggle and Tom’s stomach drops.

“And, let’s see,” Zendaya continues. Tom can picture her putting her finger to her chin as she thinks. “He can’t stand blueberries but loves pretty much every other type of berry. And…”

A Handmaiden’s Lies Taglist:

@andreasworlsboring101 @juliebean247

Forever Taglist:

@lemirabitur @annymcervantes @queenmissfit @quiet-because-it-is-a-secret @iksey @thehyperactiveteen @luxmoonlight @andreasworlsboring101

Let me know what you all thought or if you’d like me to put you on a taglist!

#tom holland #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland fanfic #tom holland imagine #reader x tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #reader insert #you x tom holland #MCU #mcu au #mcu fanfic #harrison osterfield #au #robin hood au #soulmate au #zendaya

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anangelicday-mrwolf · 4 years

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Wolfsbane : Noblesse Fanfic (post-ending)

(previous chapter)

Chapter 30 – Wrong Start

“I give you 10 seconds for you to confess, whoever it is.”

Muzaka’s statement resonated in the air, left unanswered by his closest and most trusted warriors.

None of the four warriors could fancy what was in their lord’s head, and they were busy exchanging looks among themselves, until Garda, as the most experienced of all warriors, decided to be the vanguard.

“Pardon me, my lord, but... I am afraid we have no idea what you want to discuss with us.”

“Isn’t it obvious? I mean, can I make it any more obvious?”

Muzaka sighed from the bottom of his guts, as if he just encountered the gravest tragedy he has ever witnessed.

“Don’t you hear that? Our little girl throwing a raging, hissy fit as we speak.”

Oh.

No mouth in the area ever moved, but an identical sound rang in their heads in synchronization.

In fact, questions had been ringing in their heads even before Muzaka summoned them.

‘What on earth had happened to Lunark?’

‘Why is she so mad?’

‘Shouldn’t we stop her? At this rate, she’ll blow up at least 10% of our land.’

By the time damages caused by Union’s biological weapons were almost as good as gone, out of the blue thundered new cacophony undeniably from a work of destruction.

It turned out Lunark was to blame, slashing and trashing like a bull that has spotted a red flag, as reported by two rookie warriors that were dispatched to find out the cause of it.

And she was doing one hell of a job, so vicious that they could not even get close, let alone ask her what was wrong.

“But it seems her reasons are still functioning. She’s wreaking havoc at that infamous forest. But really, does anybody have any idea what’s gotten into the girl? Whether it is condolence or understanding or reprimand that she needs, I’ll be able to choose one only when I find out why she’s doing... All that. Anybody? Please?”

Nobody moved a muscle to Muzaka’s inquiry-slash-request, for they were just as clueless as he was.

That is, all except one.

Garda learned about Lunark’s rampage from new warriors, who were already throwing a talk party of their own regarding the grey-haired warrior’s behavior, and she ran to the spot right away to check what was going on.

And she could pick up Lunark’s voice even before reaching the forest, from which the former usually stays away.

“Aaaaaaaaaagh!!”

She managed to catch a glimpse of the younger warrior from afar, who was screeching an array of unrecognizable vowels and syllables, with her hands shifted into battle stance as she was hurling towards whatever she could reach, air, trees, or leaves afloat.

Garda had no choice but to retreat, partially because she got scared for her own life, and partially because she was beyond puzzled, never having seen Lunark so unbridled.

Luckily, she could spot Lunark’s face right before she turned away, which left a concerning impression in her head.

‘It looks to me she isn’t mad. She’s whipping up embarrassment from the depth of her soul. Just what could mortify and set her off like that?’

*****

Few days later, Frankenstein’s island

‘Just what did he do?’

The white-haired man had been asking himself ever since the lord of the island returned at last.

He did remember that Frankenstein said he would be visiting wolfkind; however, he was wondering whether he ate the Dark Spear on his way.

Because the atmosphere from the blonde human was so dark, so violent.

That was when 3rd Elder’s experience with mind games from Union kicked in, and he attempted to analyze Frankenstein’s mental state based on what he could make out of his islemate’s facial expressions.

As a result, he could identify a number of emotions: extreme irritation, fury just as extreme, remorse greater than either of the two, and, most importantly, self-hate.

Because of which, 3rd got highly conscious of his every breath and step, despite the fact that he was lodging on this island upon Frankenstein’s permission and consent.

On the other hand, unbeknownst to the scientist, he terrified that the former could have noticed his alliance with Helga.

So he ended up asking Frankenstein if there was something troubling him, ready for a lethal slap in the face.

It’s nothing.

Came a reply with a face that THERE IS DEFINITELY SOMETHING, before the speaker fled the scene.

That did not do any good to relieve 3rd Elder of his fear, but at least he was convinced that the reason behind Frankenstein’s foul mood lay not with him.

When he walked away, Frankenstein’s steps were immediate, rushed as if he never wanted to talk about it ever again.

‘That just made it more curious for me, but I guess it’s none of my business, whatever it is. What matters is that Frankenstein knows nothing about my deal. Speaking of which, looks like the recorder and tracker in me really didn’t work.’

He already knew the answer; had they worked properly, upon his return Frankenstein would have cornered him almost as if he were going for a round of a full torture.

So all in all, regardless of what had taken place with the wielder of Dark Spear, 3rd Elder could not deny that it was all good for him.

It was so good to know Helga’s promise came with a reason.

It was very good to find out her accomplice was truly talented.

‘And I’d say she’s also talented, having discovered and won over such competence, especially considering the original alliance of the said competence.’

Though Helga did relay to him the course through which her accomplice had agreed to act as an accomplice, 3rd Elder was still mystified.

‘Anyways, I’d say nobody knows about my ‘betrayal.’ Which means I should focus on my job and do it right, on the day she mentioned.’

*****

Time never stopped its magic, and at last came the day marked on everyone’s calendar.

“Haha, amen to both of you.”

Tao, who had found himself in front of computers for once, laughed at the screens hosting virtual conversation with four recipients at once.

Nonetheless, the man’s face held a hint of anxiety, and Adne somehow detected it like an X-ray.

<Mr. Tao, was it...? There’s no need to be so anxious.>

“Haha, was it that obvious? How embarrassing. And I have been calling myself an expert, with tons and variety of experience when it comes to computers.”

Tao laughed, scratching a side of his head, when Adne offered a word of comfort.

“My, I’m starting to feel small in your presence. We should be calling you the real expert.”

But I wanted to be one.

Tao blinked, wondering if he had just heard the werewolf doctor whispering.

Before he could ask if he had said something, however, Adne beamed in satisfaction.

“Aww, come on, boss! You should really stop being a proud daddy.”

Tao felt his body turning rigid as a biting voice speared his eardrums.

So did Takio and M-21, watching the scene right next to his chair.

Frankenstein’s face, lighting up an entire monitor that was assigned to him, was brimming with annoyance.

“Aww, don’t be so mean, boss. There’s no way we’re leaving you out for the grand premiere of the event.”

Said Lascrea, who had been listening like a rock until then.

Because she was standing next to Yuhyung, who decided to be the operator for Lukedonia, only part of her face was visible.

The only one who has not spoken was the doctor from KSA.

Or rather, he decided not to speak, overwhelmed by the presence of werewolves, nobles, Frankenstein, and a group of people who had shared with him blood and sweat in battles.

But of course, that did not mean KSA would be left unspoken for the duration of the event, though it was because Tao directed a word to everyone at the scene.

“So, are we all ready? Status report, please.”

<Yep! All set!>

<Uh, same here...>

<...I believe we are ready as well.>

Adne was the last to send an okay, after a bit of delay, to which Tao responded with a nod completely void of a smile.

“So, shall we begin?”

Right on cue, Yuhyung took the invisible mike from Tao.

<Now, please follow the instructions I had left for you. First, run the program I installed for you.>

Tao’s fingers danced across the keyboard, for he had fully memorized Yuhyung’s instruction manual; and Adne and KSA’s doctor followed suit.

The two humans provided feedback whenever things were lost or stuck in the middle, and they reached step by step closer to the initiation of the QuadraNet.

By then M-21, Takio, and even Lascrea were having a hard time hiding their excitement.

“Okay, we’re almost there! Just a little bit more!”

Tao’s encouragement fueled everybody to the last stage.

<Now, once this file is activated, all four servers will be linked. And like I told you a number of times, we must activate the file at the exact same moment.>

“On a count of three. One... Two...”

Three.

Four fingers stabbed the enter key in unison, and not long after they held their breath in waiting, pleasing hum of machines and blue light began their duet.

<...Well? It looks like things went okay here.>

Asked a voice from monitor connected to the KSA’s headquarter, somewhere between anticipation and concern.

<W-w-we’re okay!>

<Uh, same here...>

Came voices wild with wonder, and Tao was about to laugh in reply, when an eerie whirring noise, pitched so high and so ominous, began to bore through everyone’s ears.

The fact that it took place just when they were literally less than an inch away from completion was horrifying enough, but they had yet to realize the real horror was yet to reveal itself.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Beep-beep-beep-beep.

BEEEEEEEEEP!!!!!!

Monitors linking Lukedonia, KSA, and wolfkind also emitted similar noises, and soon Tao found his screens being painted with tiny numbers and alphabets one by one.

“Tao? What is it?”

“What’s going on?”

Barked Takio and M-21 in alarm; they did not define themselves as computer-friendly type, but they had enough knowledge to tell that such phenomenon takes place usually when there is a technical issue or its sort.

Not to mention Tao’s face was all they needed to see that something has gone terribly wrong.

“No, no, no...! Our server...!”

Tao yelled as he was slamming the keyboard with his entire fingers.

And right then Murphy’s Law decided to spit in their faces.

Pzzt...!

Everyone’s face blinked off as if promised, and instead the monitors were refilled with noises that made the RK’s eyes bleed just by staring.

“What the heck is going on...?!”

*****

“Tao? Mr. Jang? Doctor? Dr. Adne?”

Frankenstein was almost wailing for everyone’s name as well.

To no avail, of course.

“What is it? Just tell me what the hell it is!”

Frankenstein’s cry scattered into an echo unreciprocated, as he was clutching onto his monitor.

So he had no idea there was a pair of blue eyes watching him from his back.

‘Stage 1 is complete.’

Cause disturbance with everyone’s server the moment QuadraNet comes alive.

Therefore, make sure no one can pay attention to anything other than the sudden technical chaos, including what he and Helga will stir up in the future.

It was not an easy task, but they made it.

The 3rd Elder silently removed himself from the back of the stage, his mind winding back to the face of their accomplice, who happened to be featuring on one of Frankenstein’s monitors just a while ago.

(next chapter)

Perhaps it would feel a little rushed to bring about trouble so soon, when the previous chapter featured Frankenstein and Lunark’s first kiss, but now things will start taking the wrong turns. I mean, it’s no fun if there are no troubles or challenges in a fic lol. By the way, I started adding links on each chapter that can take you to previous/next chapter (you can find the link to previous chapter at the top, and the link to the next chapter at the bottom). I’ll add the links to all previous chapters very soon!

#korean webcomic #korean webtoon #noblesse #frankensteinxlunark #frankenstein #lunark #wolfsbane

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kiruuuuu · 5 years

Text

Doc/Lion oneshot in which, instead of going for each other’s throat, they reach a little lower (and Lion gets more than he bargained for). (Rating E, explicit, ~3k words) - written for @big-r6s-fan! 💗 I will never tire of thanking you for commissioning me and allowing me to write this because it was super fun :) Find my commission info here!

“Flament, a word.”

The tone of voice effortlessly conveys the blatant lie in Doc’s statement – what he really means to say is: The only thing keeping me from writing you a novel is lack of time. Lion narrowly avoids rolling his eyes in annoyance and obliges, throws Montagne a meaningful look which implies they’ll finish their rudely interrupted conversation later and trails after his other teammate. If he could’ve gotten away with it, he’d be dragging his feet just because the murderous glare Doc would send him never fails to be hilarious. He’s reasonably certain he knows what this is about and boy, is he not in the mood for this.

And of course Doc marches him into his office instead of just any room which would’ve served the same purpose. With his inflated ego, it’s no surprise he enjoys chewing people out in a place where he’s comfortable; Lion can’t even begin counting the occasions on which he ended up on this side of the mahogany desk, having his person and skills and ethics challenged by a man too naive to be in this line of work and who genuinely thought he could pull off that frankly ridiculous moustache for a few years of his life. Lion is almost sad it’s gone by now, it befitted Doc’s general absurdity.

It doesn’t matter. He’s secretly begun rebelling against the man’s authority in a satisfying way and now he puffs himself up whenever he comes face to face with the very desk which used to make his temper flare purely by existing, but by now has lost its sting. It was customary for him to view the solid piece of furniture as an unsurmountable obstacle rendering any proper communication between them impossible, yet his view has shifted. It’s converted. It’s working for him now.

“I will not stand for you endangering more innocent lives.” Doc’s French is clipped, efficient, yet more than a tool to be used – he has the same intonation and melody to his words as Lion’s parents, as Sophie, as former teachers.

“Then stop endangering your own”, he replies and wants nothing more than to stuff something down Doc’s throat to make him stop talking. His holier-than-thou attitude has always rubbed Lion the wrong way, created sparks of fury, hostility, and something… entirely different on occasion. There’s dust from the debris in Doc’s hair, making it whiter than it already is and Lion wants to bury his fingers in it and then pull sharply.

He needs to stop getting distracted.

“Stop interfering with my work”, Doc snaps and it’s wonderful how easily Lion can get under his skin. At this point, it’s almost a hobby for him to rile up his colleague. And while private hissy fits are a necessary-turned-amusing evil, they serve another purpose as well: providing excellent material for long, gratifying ‘self-care’ sessions in which he fantasises about what would’ve happened if instead of quoting a specific law to shut down Doc’s argument, he’d just crowded him against a wall, rumbled filth into his ear and showed him how unprofessional he really can be.

“Then stop interfering with mine.” He has to suppress a smirk at the frustration on Doc’s face and doesn’t mind in the least that he’s doing the grown-up version of ‘no you’.

“Pray tell, Flament, what exactly does your work entail then? Does it state anywhere you should prevent me from administering first aid to a wounded civilian? Hm?” His tone is cutting, sharp and sweet like a rose’s thorn, and he actually abandons his safe haven behind the desk to come down to Lion’s level – or rather lower. Because he is noticeably shorter and Lion gladly stands up straighter to emphasise this fact.

“Above all, my work entails keeping my colleagues safe, for example preventing an altruistic idiot from rushing head first into a potential ambush.”

Doc’s eyes narrow. Their faces are uncomfortably close together, a result of too many altercations in the past where both of them got scolded for raising their voice, so now they rely on dangerous hissing. His smell is making it hard to breathe because it’s earthy, mesmerising, distinct. Lion wonders how it’d feel to force him to his knees and have this defiant gaze directed up at him while his sharp tongue is used for something other than reprimanding him for - “Is that your way of saying you’re worried about me?”

Lion is halfway through formulating a reply in his head when his thoughts screech to a grinding halt. Nothing has changed, Doc’s posture is just as defensive as before, expression stony, intonation accusing, and yet the atmosphere has… tilted a little. Spilled into uncharted territory. Lion isn’t sure what to make of it. “I worry about all my colleagues”, he eventually responds neutrally.

“That doesn’t absolve you from jerking off at my desk. Repeatedly.”

Oh.

Well fuck.

He blinks owlishly, utterly speechless because how in the world is he ever going to recover. Doc knows. How does he know?

Sensing he’s not going to get a sensible response from Lion any time soon, Doc continues: “If you have a problem with me, I’m sure we can work something out.”

His mouth is faster than his brain because there’s no way he’d in his right mind shoot back: “Yeah, you can work out on my cock.”

Okay. Alright.

This is still salvageable. All he needs to do is to back off immediately, apologise for the inappropriate comment, not mention that Doc needs to stop wearing these blasted form-fitting shirts or else Lion will really end up doing a briefing with a raging hard-on in front of everyone, and then steer clear of Doc for the rest of his entire -

“Real mature, Flament, but I expected no less. I’m afraid you’re mistaken, though, as it would be the other way round.”

Once again, words elude him, this time out of indignation. The audacity. Lion has no doubt he’s the more experienced one, is taller and heavier, certainly more masculine and dominant, and Doc has the gall to imply… Shock slowly morphs into smug disbelief and he finds himself shaking his head at this bold claim. “You haven’t got the balls.”

And Doc grabs him by the collar and smashes their mouths together.

Lion just – he stops functioning for a few seconds until he realises that it’s Doc’s tongue prying his lips open so he parts them willingly with an involuntary moan he regrets the moment he utters it. His brain still refuses to acknowledge the whole situation, making it easy for Doc to overpower him, guide the messy kiss and shove his hands under Lion’s sweater and holy shit, is this really happening? The desk’s edge digs into the backs of his thighs and Doc’s teeth into his lower lip and it’s Lion who’s making these horribly embarrassing noises, isn’t it? Like a mixture of a dying whale and a prisoner of war about to be freed and this is not at all how he pictured this to go.

Despite the suddenness of it all, there’s a particular part of his body which has no trouble keeping up and draws even more attention to itself the moment Doc’s thumbs brush over Lion’s nipples and good heavens, he did not expect Doc to be such a fantastic kisser. Desperate to regain any sort of control, Lion tries to fight the onslaught by grabbing Doc’s hands, wrestling his tongue into submission and spinning them around – with an emphasis on tries. Because Doc chooses that second to push a thigh between Lion’s legs, presses it directly against his achingly hard erection in all the right ways and makes his brain short-circuit yet again. The gesture results in vague flailing on Lion’s part, a particularly vicious swipe of Doc’s merciless tongue which turns his joints into butter and some ungraceful bumbling of which Doc makes use by basically lifting him up and setting him down on his stupid desk.

Well, so much for that.

“If you want me to stop, now’s the time”, Doc murmurs against his mouth and curls his tongue around Lion’s in a way he didn’t think possible. His inner monologue has turned into no more than incoherent screaming because while this general situation is a wet dream come true, he’s conflicted about the details and yet the thought of stopping the other man doesn’t even enter his mind. When calloused fingertips twist his nipples, all he can produce is a throaty groan full of arousal and longing, and when his legs (the traitors) wrap around Doc’s to pull him closer, his opponent breaks the kiss to regard him with a disgustingly smug expression. “That’s what I thought”, he says and starts unbuttoning Lion’s trousers.

Why don’t you start lubing up my cock with your throat so the sliding in becomes easier, the monkey part of Lion’s brain provides helpfully, sends the signal to his mouth and witnesses in stark horror how he instead chokes out something very, very different: “Please, hurry up, I want you.” It seems his entire body has set out to betray him: his upper body gives in at the slightest push and lies flat on the largely empty surface he’s defiled in the past, his hands lie uselessly by his side instead of struggling, and his dick is magnificently hard. Painfully hard. So hard it’s continuously throbbing and will probably ejaculate as soon as Doc looks at it wrong.

“I noticed my hand lotion depleting unusually quickly and asked Meghan for a Black Eye when I couldn’t locate the source”, Doc informs him conversationally while ripping down Lion’s trousers with minimal resistance. And oh, that explains how he knew. And… also means that Doc saw him. Oh God. “Tell me, did you fantasise about me, Olivier?”

His cheeks are crimson. It’s impossible to provide an honest answer, not when Doc pulls his underwear down as if they’d done this a thousand times and throws his uncomfortably hard cock an appraising glance. “I”, Lion starts stupidly and then Doc’s mouth envelops him in wonderful tight heat, prompting him to thrust his hips up at the unexpected stimulation and the next thing he hears is a sharp snap.

Doc just slapped his ass as punishment.

It stings, but even worse is the realisation that Lion isn’t going to top anybody today. “You can’t do that!”, he gasps, appalled, yet the look he receives is unbothered.

“Watch me”, Doc says and does it again. This time, Lion moans at the sensation, can’t help himself, it’s just – he doesn’t even know what’s going on, only that he’s in too deep already, and he’s not only talking about Doc’s mouth and oh God, his tongue really can do what it promised earlier. A mere minute later, Lion is writhing on the cursed desk in agonising bliss, trying desperately not to come down Doc’s throat while producing so much noise it’s a miracle no one has checked on them yet. He’s so resigned to his fate that he at first doesn’t notice the warm hand creeping up his thigh and getting dangerously close to his crotch, up until the pad of a finger strokes over his entrance and absolutely no way.

“Don’t”, Lion pants and nearly knees Doc in the temple, “just – keep sucking, please, but not -”

Doc pulls off his dick with a wet pop and, unperturbed, conjures up a bottle of lube seemingly out of thin air. “Should’ve used this instead of the lotion”, he states. “Then you could’ve fingered yourself in preparation as well.”

“I don’t do that sort of thing”, Lion protests and yelps when Doc hoists his legs up, folds them in half and places Lion’s hands on his own calves. He’s much too overwhelmed to complain and so he simply holds his legs up, spread invitingly, and then there’s a slippery finger inside him.

He opens his mouth to object. The finger crooks in a way just as magical as Doc’s tongue earlier and a fierce wave of pleasure rolls through him. Lion closes his mouth again.

“I don’t believe it for a second”, Doc counters and adds a second one and good Lord, how is he doing this? Lion’s thoughts are running haywire and he’s ashamed to admit that at least half of them are focused on replacing those fingers with something else. “This looks like your natural habitat.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?!” He flinches when the digits withdraw and narrowly stops himself from substituting his own. It really does feel phenomenal.

“It means”, Doc replies while unzipping his own trousers, “that you’re a slut.”

Lion is stupefied. Did Doc just -

And before his brain even processes the insult, it shuts down completely because that’s definitely a dick pushing inside him, giving him the opportunity to adjust and then rubbing over all the right places. In utter disbelief, Lion stares down at himself and can’t fathom how he ended up here when by all means, he should’ve -

“Hold this too.” The hem of his sweater gets shoved between his teeth and he bites down automatically; his reward is warm palms stroking over his chest and fingertips finding his nipples yet again and he’s sizzling, he feels hot and weird and his skin prickles wherever Doc touches, and above all he never wants this to end. Especially when Doc starts thrusting. “Do you like this?”

Lion’s only answer is a muffled moan about an octave higher than he’d like. There’s something like fireworks going on and it almost drowns out Doc’s next words. Almost.

“You, Olivier, are a nasty little slut”, and Doc emphasises this with a particularly deep thrust, “and you deserve to be punished. Do you know why?”

He shakes his head, too preoccupied with the sight before him, the incredible feeling of becoming one with this man, something of which he’s been dreaming for a long, long time.

“But you do. Because it wasn’t just my desk, was it?” Panicked, Lion looks up and is met with a half amused, half heated gaze. Doc seems to be enjoying this at least as much as he is. “My underwear has gone missing a few times. So has my uniform. I know how you look at me.”

Oh shit. Lion’s face starts burning and it’s only partly the hard movements which rock his entire body. He must make for a shameful display: presenting himself, incapacitated of his own volition, whimpering and squirming on Doc’s magnificent cock. And he realises that he doesn’t even care – because it looks like Doc is having the time of his life, and that implies they’ll do this again.

“Look at you, you’re taking it so well.” His voice is mesmerising and Lion notices himself giving in to the thrumming desire, relishing the sharp motions reaching deep and causing small explosions of need, of want, of delight. When a hand closes around his throbbing erection, he throws his head back and arches his back, feels fingernails dig into his ribs and scrape over a sensitive nipple, prompting an elated groan. “You’re sucking me in and gripping me so tightly.”

Lion wants it to last so badly, wants to hear Doc talk some more about all the depraved things he’s done because he hasn’t even mentioned half of it, can’t know the full extent, but as always, the universe is against him and gave Doc not only a gloriously talented tongue as well as a perfectly shaped dick, but also awarded him with skilled fingers who identify Lion’s weakspots in seconds and massage the ridge of his glans, torture him with long, slow strokes just like he would himself and that’s right, Doc knows exactly how he does it because he’s seen it, and this knowledge mercilessly shoves Lion off the edge without so much as a warning.

He comes with a series of moans, abs contracting marvellously and sending shocks of pleasure through him while Doc milks him, keeps jerking him in time with the almost violent spurts of come Lion unloads on his belly. Doc fucks him through it and creates white noise in Lion’s head with his thrusts, the stimulation flirting with discomfort but never really reaching it; and if it wasn’t for Doc’s own orgasm, Lion might’ve passed out cold with how hard the relief hits him. His rhythmic spasming must’ve been too much for Doc, causes him to climax while Lion is still tensing up and riding the last of his high and he looks beautiful. Doc tilts his head back with a satisfied groan, hips stuttering, and comes deep -

He – he’s actually coming inside, dick pulsing, eyes rolling back. And if Lion is honest, it’s one of the hottest things he’s ever seen.

The hem of his sweatshirt snaps back the moment he lets go and he rests his head on the uncomfortable and frankly ostentatious desk with a sigh, lowers his legs but refuses to let Doc go by wrapping them around him once again. The fight has left him, but so has the heat of the moment which has shifted into an odd uncertainty. He’s not sure what to do other than enjoy the gentle afterglow.

As if he’d read his mind, Doc bends down to him for a kiss which lasts much longer than Lion expected it to, and when they separate after a good while, they’re both smiling. “How about we think of an excuse as to why our conversation took this long while we get you cleaned up?”, he murmurs good-naturedly.

The warmth spreading in Lion’s chest easily replaces the insecurity he felt, and so he nods happily.

“Really, though. Don’t touch my stuff again.”

He almost laughs at Doc’s serious tone and decides to take a chance: “And what if I do?”

To this, Doc smirks and Lion didn’t even know he was capable of doing that, is actually glad he didn’t find out earlier because it apparently doubles his heart rate and steals his breath away.

“Then I’ll see you in my office, Flament”, he says and raises a meaningful brow.

#rainbow six siege #doc #lion #doc/lion #fanfic #oneshot #commissions #lion is one of my fav unreliable narrators #stop letting your mouth write checks that you can't cash

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sarah--goff · 5 years

Text

Their Dark Materials: Chapter 5; The Labyrinth

Also avaliable on A03 under: Sarah_Goff works

For any suggestions/questions/ etc my email is [email protected]

Hello again!

I realise there are a lot of unanswered questions and plot holes, of course, but I promise things will become apparent further on into the fic x

side note: I have already written a few chapters ahead but i want to try and space my posting out so that I don't publish everything in one go and then take weeks to write chapter by chapter, because for *me* as a reader I find that really agonising- if that makes sense.

Also, I edit quite thoroughly so sometimes posting may take a while- unfortunately, I'm not one of those writers who can just whip up a chapter on the bus and post it there and then (if only!)

I'm very conscious of what I'm writing and i want to make it as clear and enjoyable as possible!

-S. G

Hope you enjoy!

Summary:

You enter the Labyrinth, time is ticking to win back your freedom -but not everything is as it seems.

_*_

Damn wretched girl!

Back in his castle, Jareth hurled the crystal at the wall opposite him. How dare you throw his generosity back in his face! After all he'd tried to do for you! Do what you had asked!

Anger bubbled inside him. He'd thought you were smarter than this foolishness, than this childish defiance!

Didn't you see? Didn't you bloody understand?

He'd done it- he thought with clenched teeth- out of the kindness of his heart. Pah! Look where that had brought him!

"What I want is you "

He'd said it in tender truth and passion.

He thought he was setting you free by binding you to the wish, this way you could escape, with him, but you had taken it the wrong way completely, warped him a cruel villain in your mind...The look of disgust and disdain on your face when he'd said it...It had honestly crushed him.

Jareth had been adamant that you would come so willing.

The way you had held him in your arms on the first night...

A shiver washed over him at the warmth of the memory. It was at that very moment, he'd realised then, in his wretched Raven form, that he'd felt something , something he hadn't felt for eons...

Curse these feelings!

The Goblin King had granted you such a kind gift, and yet, there you were, walking towards the Labyrinth, a challenge you could not hope to win, to run it, from him- the very nerve of you!

It was rare that runners far and wide trialled and triumphed the Labyrinth- what made you so sure you could do it? He scoffed at this thought.

Another bitter thought crossed his mind: You’d forgotten. You’d forgotten everything. The dream. The beautiful dream that you’d adored.

Rage calming, Jareth waved his hand for another crystal to peer into, observing you curiously as you walked up and down the outskirts of the labyrinth, with a hand under his chin.

He gave a begrudging sigh. There was nothing else for it. He would have to make you see what you wanted again, direct you towards him.

The Goblin King had to admire you for at least giving the task a go.

He drummed his fingers on the arm rest of his throne. Maybe you would give up in the end- you would see how tough and trying the Labyrinth could be eventually.

‘They always do’, he thought.

Then again, the look on your face said resilience. You wouldn’t be so easy to give in.

_*_

This couldn’t be right. Your feet were already aching and you hadn’t turned any corners. In fact, you hadn’t even entered the labyrinth at all! You were following the high wall, still looking for the entrance! Dammit!

You slam your hands against the wall in frustration.

This wasn’t fair! You at least expected the Goblin King to open the bloody door. You were sure the cheater had started the clock too. You could practically hear the minutes ticking by and see the smirk on his face. Fuck! You kicked the wall.

“Hey watch it!” A stern voice makes you jump, dropping your hissy fit. There were other people here? Couldn’t they get in either? Were they trapped too?

There was a shorter man standing beside you glaring at you. He came up to your knee. You removed your hands from the stones sheepishly.

“Y’ ought to watch y’self- especially in here, that temper won’t get y’ far” he turns back before you can reply, holding a makeshift weapon of some sort, pointing it at something you couldn’t see. “58!” he cried cheerfully.

“In here? But I’m not even in the Labyrinth yet! There’s no door!”

You looked up at the walls as if he saw something you didn’t. What was he talking about?

The short creature stops counting to give you a tiresome expression. “That’s because y’ not looking hard enough- 59!” and then, triumphantly “60! Things aren’t always what they seem in here”

Were the people from here always talking in bloody riddles?

You decided to be patient.

“Well…You must know how then- how to get in?” you offer hoping he’ll just tell you.

He wore a skull hat and shabby vest, scruffy shoes and trousers, he had long ears and nose. “Are you a gnome?” you say aloud accidentally. A real gnome imagine! An hour ago you would have scoffed at the idea of meeting a gnome. Well there was a king of goblins so why not.

The scruffy man turns sharply “I’m not a gnome, I’m Hoggle!” he snaps.

“Oh,” as if you have any idea what that is “Nice to meet you, Hoglet” you hold out a hand though this really isn’t the time to be making friends. Suddenly 13 hours seemed far too little.

He scoffs, insulted “Hoggle, not Hoglet”.

“Oh, sorry” you falter, already you weren’t getting off to a great start in this place. “I’m Sloane. Sloane Hazel” but like he cares anyway.

“That’s what I thought” he grumbled under his breath pointing the weapon at seemingly nothing and continues counting.

“What did you say?” you follow him to catch up “you know me?”

Hoggle's stoic manner dropped and he looked anxious suddenly, obviously he’d let something slip that he wasn’t supposed to.

“You do ! You know me!”

“Wellll, it’s uh, it’s a popular name ain’t it” he was lying; any fool could see that. He started to walk faster ignoring you by his side.

“Hey come back!” You grab his arm bending at the waist a little to look him in the eye. “You know something don’t you? About me?”

Hoggle twists in your grip “I can’t” he whines “Jareth will kill me!”

“The Goblin King?” you let him go at the mention of the name, but still keep him cornered “why would he kill you?”

Hoggle seemed genuinely nervous to speak with you “Y’- y' ask too many questions for y’ own good!”

“I’m not leaving until you answer!” you cry, frustration building in you.

He groans realising he’s stuck “we were given strict instructions not to help y’, alright? Now go!”

‘We?’ there’s more like him, here?

“Wait a second, if he told you not to help me then that must mean… you know something important that can help me through here!”

“I’m telling y’ if you don’t stop asking questions then we’re both dead”

“Just tell me where the bloody entrance to this maze is and I’ll go I won’t bother you again”

To your surprise he kicks your shins and you move out of the way to nurse the pain, allowing him to escape. “Hey!” you call after him but it’s too late. “Thanks for nothing Hop-scotch!” you yell holding your leg.

You faintly hear him correct you.

You rest your arm against the wall. This was going well.

A loud screeching noise startles you and you remove your arm to see the wall swing forward, but it’s not a wall at all- it’s the door!

“Oh thank god!” you whoop sprinting through before they closed again. How on earth had you missed that!

You noticed the shift in the atmosphere immediately. The wind died down, there was no noise.

The walls were narrow and both paths to your left and right stretched out far ahead of you. Isolation. The air felt stiff and cold.

You pulled your jacket tighter around you, extremely grateful that you didn’t change into your pyjamas before you slept.

Left, or right?

You dithered between them though they looked exactly the same.

Right.

You strode down confidently, stepping over a tree branch every now and then.

You looked behind you after a good few minutes of walking and seemingly getting nowhere. The walls and path looked the same you were sure you just stepped over that exact same branch.

“There aren’t any corners!” you huffed coming to a stop . “It just goes on and on!”

There must be some somewhere surely! What kind of maze didn’t have corners or turns?!

You turned back, checking if you were alone or if you had somehow missed a turning- and then began to sprint down the path, maybe there were corners- you were just being too slow to reach them.

You watched your footing, hoping over tree branch after tree branch, suspicious cracks in the stones, hearing your footsteps slap against the path .

Just keep going. You ran for what seemed like forever. There's got to be one somewhere! Still, nothing.

You slowed to a stop, panting slightly.

“This can’t be right!” it felt like you hadn’t moved at all- the scenery looked exactly the same.

It was a trick, it had to be. Ugh! You slammed the wall and kicked the other opposite with a frustrated shriek. It felt better to get that out.

You were drenched in sweat and your hair sticking to your face, calves throbbing. You were going to waste your entire 13 hours looking for a fucking turn! Maybe he was right, maybe giving up isn’t such a bad idea after all.

No!

What was wrong with you- you’d only been here five minutes and already you were giving in! This is exactly what he wanted. You couldn’t think that way already, you just had to remember why you were in here in the first place. You weren’t about to let a devious, tight-panted overgrown elf get the better of you.

“Fuck” you mutter. You clapped your hand to your sticky forehead, sliding down the wall to sit against it, not caring how grimy it was. You just wanted to sit and stare at these miserable walls.

“You’ll never get anywhere with that attitude!”

You lifted your head to the croaky voice by your ear.

A blue worm on the brick beside you smiled “ ‘allo”

You stared at it . It had a tiny red scarf around its neck and an unsettling pair of red eyes.

"Did… you say ‘hello’?”

You’d met a king of goblins and Hoggle, so a worm talking was not a surprise.

“No, I said ‘allo’ but that’s close enough” he nodded.

“Oh…okay” you sat up to face the worm fully “you don’t by any chance know the way through this labyrinth, do you?”

He shook his head “who me? Nah I’m just a worm”

Your shoulders slumped, disappointed “oh” was nobody here able to help?

“come inside and have some tea!” the worm offered

“No, thank you, but I have to solve this labyrinth-“ you gestured to the high walls “ but there aren’t any turns openings or anything”

“well you ain’t looking right- it’s full of openings it’s just you ain’t seeing them!” he gave a chuckle and shook his head.

“well, where are they?”

“There’s one just across there, it’s right in front of ya”

You stared dumbly at the brick wall opposite, nothing had changed it was just a wall. What was he talking about? “No there isn’t?” you peered at it but it looked just the same.

“Come inside and have a nice cup of tea” he implored, undermining you very desperate need to find the turns.

You were still staring hard at the wall expecting it to move or something “but there isn’t an opening!”

He laughed again and you felt stupid “of course there is!”

You stood, determined to show the worm that there really was nothing there.

“You try walking through it, you’ll see what I mean!”

You turned “what?” walk through? Like through the wall? You hesitated.

“Go on, go on then”

“It’s just a wall, there’s no way through!” you protested.

“things are not always what they seem in this place- so you can’t take anything for granted”

“So everyone keeps saying” you muttered under your breath, sticking out your hands out in front of you, expecting to smack straight into the bricks.

You were able to walk forward a couple of paces and your eyes focused so that you could see the gaps where the two paths were.

“Hey !” you said gleefully, there they were, the corners! You felt a huge weight lift off your shoulders. You looked left and right down this new path. No wonder you’d missed this! You started down the left path.

“Hey, hang on!”

You peaked around the corner with a relived smile “thank you! That was really hel-”

“Don’t go that way!” The worms voice was hushed and tense.

“What was that?”

“I said, don’t go that way, never go that way!”

You frowned “But why?”

“If you keep going down that path, it’ll lead you straight to the castle” he shivered at the thought.

You gave a winning smile “No, no, you don’t understand, that’s exactly where I want to go!”

He looked frightened, unsure “are you sure, dearie? That castle…awful place” his eyes widened and you dropped the smile.

“The king. Take my advice, avoid the castle, save yourself” he whispered and turned tail to crawl back into the hole.

“But I need to get to the castle to win!” you called but he was gone.

You were dithering between the left path or the right. Both made you feel unsettled.

Risk it or play safe. Play into his hands you corrected yourself. This was exactly what he wanted, you to second guess yourself -that wouldn't get you far in here if there were more tricks up ahead which you very much suspected there were.

You could spend the next 12 hours in this miserable place- hell, it had taken you this long to find a corner! – scurrying around as time ticked on.

Or you could go against the advice and follow this path to the castle and it would be over. You could be home before Kari and Brian would even notice you were missing.

You didn’t need to think twice. You shook off the worm’s advice following down the castle path.

Why was everyone so afraid of The Goblin King here? What was the worst he could do? He didn’t frighten you, you were sure, you’d have to face him eventually.

You strode confidently down the left path “I’ll show him” you mumbled under your breath, the sky was changing the further down you went.

“Dammit” you noticed your shoelace was untied and leaned against the wall to do it back up quickly, you stepped out when the stone beneath your feet flipped over, causing you to fall through the gap and down, down.

#labyrith #labyrinth fanfiction #fanfic #jareth x reader

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okietokiee · 5 years

Text

Fic: Hjönk, Hjönk

Pairing: Skwisgaar Skwigelf/Toki Wartooth

Rating: M

I was really inspired by @picklespunchedme @bittebecca @sonderrbeee ‘s various fan art of clown!Skwisgaar 😳 thanks so much for letting me write a fic based on your gorgeous art!! 💕

Summary:

Skwisgaar makes some especially harsh remarks which cause Toki to start avoiding him, and the lack of contact is really starting to make the Swede’s sex drive go absolutely haywire.

Fortunately, Skwisgaar comes up with a genius (albeit horrifyingly embarrassing) plan to make it up to his hot-tempered boyfriend lover.

And Toki positively loves it. Perhaps a little too much.

——————

Skwisgaar knew he had fucked up.

After countless years of brutally harsh, biting criticisms and demeaning insults, Toki had finally had it. Normally he was able to take Skwisgaar’s comments, admittedly not always in a stride, but with minimal bloodshed (most of the time). And he wasn’t even completely sure what was different about today, about the disparaging remarks he’d grown used to throwing out daily.

Maybe it was the stress of having to record a whole knew album from scratch? The stress of the rising tensions becoming so goddamn obvious lately? He knows he’s not the smartest person around, but you’d have to be blind to not see the cracks forming in their band’s already fragile dynamics. He knows it’s not just affecting Nathan and Pickles.

But whatever the underlying causes were, all it took was an offhand, “That’s was fuckins dildos, dos it agains idiots,” during a slow-moving rehearsal to get Toki raging like a spoiled five-year-old kid told that no, he could not have candy for dinner.

After screeching and using his flying-V to destroy a fair amount of their studio and sound equipment, Toki had tired himself out and retired to his bedroom.

He’d also taken to avoiding him for the past week. And maybe the Skwisgaar from a few years ago wouldn’t have (outwardly) cared so much, but ever since they’d shared an earth-shattering, momentous night together just months before, they’d both been inhabiting the same bed for a majority of nights.

And, though Skwisgaar would rather die a painful death by firing squad than admit it to anyone, Toki had been the only person he’d been sleeping with ever since that night. He loathed to label it as anything serious, but that didn’t change the fact that he was painfully reluctant to break this surprising streak of faithfulness, his longest one yet.

However, regardless of how much he didn’t want to sleep with anyone that wasn’t a dopey Norwegian guitar player with a penchant for tantrums and hissy fits, that didn’t change the fact that his sex drive was going fucking haywire.

Storming into the Mordhaus living room, he irritably asked, “Has anyones seens our dildos rhythm guitarist?”

“Eh, I think he went out drinkin’ with thet clown again,” a stoned out Pickles mumbled from the couch.

“Whats!? I thoughts we puts a restrainings orders on dat creep!”

Nathan sighed from a nearby desk, putting down his book. “Yeah, we did. But you know that kid. He just loves those fucking clowns.”

That unfortunate string of words made an idea pop up in Skwisgaar’s head.

“…coulds you repeats dat?”

“I said he loves those goddamn clowns.”

“Nos, de odder words!”

Nathan glared, confused. “Those fucking clowns?”

Skwisgaar grinned manically. “Ja! Dat weirdos loves fucking clowns!”

Pickles could be heard potentially dying of laughter a few feet away.

Nathan narrowed his eyes, a disgusted grimace on his mouth. “I know you suck at English Skwisgaar, but ugh. That’s some brutal imagery.”

Skwisgaar, ever the trooper, did not let the revolting thoughts affect him, as his plan was coming to fruition in his mind. Yes, Toki was annoyingly fond of childish gimmicks, clowns included. Toki could never even stay mad at Dr. Rockso, an old drugged-up, strung-out rock-and-roll clown, no matter what shit that creepy asshole put him through.

Yes, he knew what he had to do. He didn’t like it one bit, and it could potentially ruin his reputation completely if word ever got out that he even considered this.

But…

Skwisgaar bit his lip, his thoughts suddenly full of brown whiskers and childish giggles.

It would be worth it.

——————

Hours later, Skwisgaar was regretting every single choice he’d ever made in life that had led up to this point. He felt like a fool and looked like one too.

His only solace was that the random klokateer he’d ordered to find him this costume was no longer capable of ever blabbing his secret to anyone, at least in any way that involved a functional mouth. Or hands.

And now he found himself pacing around Toki’s small room, waiting for the little dildo to get back home. The sound of his baggy blue and yellow pants swishing and the stomping of his large red shoes did nothing to alleviate his growing anxiety.

Skwisgaar scratched at his neck, careful not to smudge any of the meticulously applied clown make-up he’d taken an hour to perfect. He was vaguely grateful that his experience with corpse paint made this endeavor slightly easier, but also horrified at exactly how naturally circus make-up came to him.

As he was pondering his deteriorating mental state, he heard the door creak open and a surprised, ear-shattering, absolutely delighted squeal.

Toki crashed face-first into his chest, holding tighter than a newborn koala to its mother.

“Oh Odin! Yous a real cool clowns Skwisgaar!” Toki gleefully said, nuzzling the red ruffles around his neck.

Skwisgaar was glad his red cheeks were camouflaged by the blindingly white paint.

“Eugh… Ja, I guess I ams,” the Swede nonchalantly agreed, not meeting his lover’s eyes.

Toki paused from his snuggling, and gazed adoringly up at Skwisgaar’s embarrassed face.

“Skwisgaar… Dids you do dis because you know Tokis been mads at yous?”

Skwisgaar coughed awkwardly and avoided his gaze. “Maybes if a dumb dildos hadn’t beens avoidins me for sos long, it woulds not haves come to dis…”

Toki smirked. “Yous just proving Toki needs to do dat more often.”

“Fucks you-!”

“Okej,” Toki cut him off with a contented sigh, cuddling into Skwisgaar’s colorful, silky costume even more.

This was the closest they’d been in a week, and Skwisgaar’s body was responding rather excitedly to their close proximity.

Toki giggled, feeling the growing hardness coming from Skwisgaar’s loose trousers, and he pulled the Swede over to the bed and pushed him down, crawling right on top of him and going in for a deep, fervent kiss. With the right angle, Toki was able to avoid dislodging the bright red clown nose on his lover’s face.

With a few well-practiced maneuvers Skwisgaar was able to bring Toki down to only his underwear, but when he made movements to remove his own ridiculous clothes he was stopped by a firm hold.

“Nos, keeps it on.” Toki’s flushed, erotic expression was very convincing.

“Ja, fines…” Skwisgaar groaned, canting his hips up, desperate for any kind of friction.

Toki smiled, reaching for the lube that has been ever-present at his bedside table for the past few months. He took a moment to take in Skwisgaar’s smudged clown make-up and gorgeous, smoldering expression. The juxtaposition was disorienting.

“Skwisgaar…?”

“Ja Tokis?”

“Do yous maybe… I knows we havent’s dones it likes dis yet, but,” Toki mumbled, his face red and expression coquettish, “I think I wants to tries to take it.”

Skwisgaar was at a loss for words, his mind (and body) already overheating. So far Toki had been the only one topping, citing his lack of experience with men and dislike of being dominated as his main reasons for wanting to avoid switching positions. And Skwisgaar hardly cared, always being very satisfied by Toki’s eager enthusiasm.

But the thought of finally being able to become so wholly one with Toki had Skwisgaar’s head spinning and heart racing.

“Of course älskling, as long as yous ready,” Skwisgaar said, rubbing circles on Toki’s naked hips.

Toki’s eager nodding was answer enough and then he wiggled out of his underwear.

Skwisgaar leaned forward to get a hold of the lube, but Toki pushed him back down.

“Yous just watch for nows,” Toki murmured with a sweet smile, opening the lube to prepare himself.

Skwisgaar couldn’t handle watching a mewling, trembling Toki Wartooth preparing himself for long without feeling like he was going to literally explode into a cloud of confetti. The Swede pushed his own baggy pants down, not fully taking it off but exposing his painfully erect manhood. He moaned, giving himself a few strokes as he continued watching his lover teasing him.

Finally, after what felt like eternity, Toki stopped and got another generous dollop of lube for Skwisgaar Jr. before lining himself up on the Swede’s lap.

Skwisgaar watched enraptured as Toki slowly lowered himself down with a seductive whine and several sensuous movements of his hips.

“Ah, fuckins hell Toki,” Skwisgaar cried, thrusting up desperately.

Toki reciprocated in kind with more moans and wet, raunchy kisses, ruining a good portion of Skwisgaar’s make-up.

As it was getting especially intense, their movements both in sync and frantic, Toki leaned down and did something incredibly peculiar and, honestly, kind of hot, at least to Skwisgaar’s current fucked-out-of-his-mind state.

“Hjönk, hjönk,” Toki murmured with a smile as he squeezed the large, squeaky clown nose on Skwisgaar’s face with something akin to reverence. All without once pausing his fast, unmerciful pace.

Skwisgaar was too goddamn horny and in love to question this, and he just responded by increasing his thrusts as well as his volume.

“Ah, for the loves of Odins, Toki I’ms gonna-” he punctuated with a shout, feeling Toki tighten around him.

After a long moment of blissful euphoria for both of them, Toki collapsed on top of him, breathing heavily and sneaking a few affectionate kisses along his neck.

“So ams guessings you not mads anymore?” Skwisgaar snickered, running his fingers through Toki’s now tangled, sexily-ruffled hair.

Toki giggled and playfully gave Skwisgaar’s big red nose, which surprisingly hadn’t fallen off at all during their vigorous lovemaking, a few more squeezes, filling the small room with obnoxiously loud honking noises.

“Nah, buts if you does something like dis every time I gets mad at yous then I gonnas make sure to be angry evens more oftens.” Toki chuckled, snuggling up to Skwisgaar’s now cum and sweat stained clown costume.

Skwisgaar sighed, equal parts hopelessly exasperated and desperately fond.

“Wells enjoys it while yous cans you dildo, dis ams not likelys to ever, ever happens again,” Skwisgaar said firmly.

Toki grinned mischievously and lifted himself up.

“I thinks Toki cans change yous mind abouts dat,” he declared proudly, slipping out of bed to walk over to his nearby work desk. He leaned over it enticingly, ass up, giving Skwisgaar the most pornographic come-hither look the Swede had ever seen.

“Comes over heres and let’s me convince yous,” Toki murmured suggestively, giving his cute butt a little shake.

And that night was the first of many that the halls of Mordhaus were filled with the echos of passionate Scandinavian honking and lovemaking.

——————

I don’t think Hjönk actually translates to anything but god I love that word LOL

Also, sorry for any weird mistakes I didn’t catch! I’ll edit it and maybe add some extra stuff soon and then post it on ao3 :D

#about to board a 13hr flight and im glad i was able to post this first LOL #also im only a lil bit ashamed to admit that ya i totally get the clownkink toki probs has :')#metalocalypse #dethklok #mtl #skwistok #skwisgaar skwigelf #toki wartooth #my fanfic #fanfiction #lemon #clowns

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ladylikepug · 6 years

Text

The Brat and the Phone

Undertale PTA

Frisk was excited because they just turn thirteen a few days ago and Frisk was getting their first phone! Sans and Toriel when to the local mall where the mobility shop was.

When they arrived Frisk got to pick out which one they wanted. Sans and Toriel pointed out the budget ones like: IPhones 7 plus and 8 plus. They nodded.

They ended up picking up a IPhone 8 plus. A young female worker helped Sans and Toriel with setting up their phone; picking a plan, which it was a two person plan. On Sans phone plan.

After an hour at the shop Frisk phone was finally set up and they were ready to go. Before they left the shop, Frisk got a phone clear case with small purple and pink butterflies on it and a fifty dollar gift card.

So they can buy music or games for their new phone.

When Frisk got home, they gave there best friend: River Earnheart, a call. She got her first phone last month and she gave Frisk her number and said to give her a text when they got their phone.

Frisk: Guess who got a phone!!!

River: OMG!! FRISK!!

Frisk and River were so trilled that they finally got their own phones. It made them feel like grown ups.

Frisk was texting to River and texting what they wanted to do after school.

“Frisk! No phones at the table you know that” Their mother said.

Setting a plate of butterscotch cinnamon pancake in front of them.

Toriel looks to the other side of the table. San was on his phone too.

“That means you too Sans”

Sans laughs, stitching his skull.

---

Frisk arrived at schools playground where River was waiting for them.

They started talking about their phones and what kind of apps they got and recommending some to each other.

Now Ebott Elementary School had a strict ‘NO PHONE POLICY’ Phones were prohibited inside the school during class and were only allowed during break time or recess.

If a student was caught with there phone during class time. It was taken away for the whole day and they have to call the parents and explain to the child and parent that phones aren’t allowed during class hours. The parent would scold their child for using their phone class and that they would be punished.

It was a little silly, but it got the word across to all the student in the school. Well.... not all the students.

Jimmy; Linda’s slime child. Come’s up to Frisk and River.

She looks at there phone and just laughs at them.

“Is their something funny” River asked in a very hostile tone.

“Wow! You two got the poor peoples phone” He gets out the newest IPhone XS

They both frown. Frisk and River both had the same phone; 8 plus.

“Well I think we rather have poor peoples phone with good connection, then a new phone with crappy connection” River snaps.

‘Also you got your first phone when you were nine and that didn’t even last for a week’ Frisk signed.

Jimmy was getting mad now by their insults.

“At least I’m not one of the poor people, I actually feel sorry for you. Your parents are so poor they can’t even get you the phone you wanted” He said.

Frisk rolls their eyes.

“Because you through a hissy fit at the phone store because you didn’t wanted the model your mom suggested to you” River said.

She heard that from MK (Monster Kid) who was at the phone store with his dad; who was getting his phone fixed.

Saw the whole thing unfold. Jimmy was screaming at the top of his lungs and at his mother and throw himself on the floor and started pounding his fists on the floor.

MK, his father and the customers were SHOCKED to see a thirteen year old boy having a temper tantrum; like he was three.

Linda caved in and got the phone he wanted: IPhone XS.

Frisk signed ‘ If I were to pull that on my mom and dad they would had just pull me from the store and not get the phone at all’

“Yeah, my parents would have done that too” River replied.

Jimmy was getting flustered. He spat “Poor freaks!” He walks away from them.

‘Whatever’ They both thought.

---

Mondays were PTA meetings and Frisk, River and Jimmy where in the gym. Because kids weren’t allowed in the meeting room. Frisk and River were playing on their phones, trying to ignore his loud talk about now awesome this phone was.

Both of them just just their headphones on and listen to music to drown out his talking.

After a few minutes River looks up and his Jimmy throwing his phone up in the air and then catching it before it a chance too hit the ground.

Jimmy also didn’t have a shell-shock case on his phone too.

River takes off her headphones “Jimmy, stop it your gonna break your phone!” she said to him.

Jimmy sneers at her “You can’t tell me what to do!”

‘She trying to warn you, your gonna break our phone’ Frisk signs.

“Pfff! Whatever!” He continued doing what he was doing.

Frisk turn their attention back to their phone, River just shook her head.

Well a few seconds later...

CRACK!

The two look up and see black screen shards on the ground. The phone screen completely fell off an you could see the inside of the phones wiring.

Jimmy starts to cry and runs out the gym.

Frisk signed ‘You warned him’

---

A few minutes pass and Linda slammed the gym doors open and see the two children. Her face was just purple with rage.

She screeches “HOW DARE YOU BREAK MY SONS PHONE!”

Frisk and River looks at each other “Jimmy was the one who broke it, not us” River said to Linda.

“SHE’S LYING MOM! SHE WAS PICKING ON ME BECAUSE THEY WERE JEALOUS OF MY PHONE” Jimmy cries out.

Before Linda could start screaming again.

Sans and Kenny; Rivers father step in and tell Linda to back off and calm down.

“YOU ARE A HORRIBLE PARENTS, HOW COULD YOU ALLOW YOUR CHILDERN TO BEHAVE LIKE THIS” Linda screams.

Kenny and Sans look at her with a ‘are you serious?’ look.

Kenny spoke “Linda... calm down”

Sans turn to the two and asked “What really happened?”

Frisk explained that Jimmy was throwing his phone up in the air and it smashed to the ground and that River warned him and to stop throw his phone.

“She’s lying!!” Jimmy screams.

Frisk cringed.

“He’s lying... I saw the whole thing”

A voice came from behind them. it was the schools janitor; Allen. He then went on an very detailed explanation. Of what actually happened.

Jimmy was staring to get nervous Sans could see that.

Sans goes to him “Is that true?”

Jimmy was now stuttering now, but he couldn’t come up with a other lie.

“Y-Y-Yes....” He said in defeat.

Kenny raise his eyebrow.

“So, I guess the only person that’s gonna be paying for the phone is you Linda” Kenny said to her.

Linda face was that of pure embarrassment. She grabs Jimmy and said that the meeting was over for the day. She left the gym.

“Can we go home now?” River asked.

#undertale pta #pta #(frisk) undertale #pta sans #lindapta #ptalinda

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buckyscrystalqueen · 6 years

Text

The Ring and The Cure: Part 5

Pairings: Crowley x Reader

Warnings: Swearing, angst, fluff

Word Count: 2,467

A/N: Repost to spread it out the way it should be.

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Daddy! Daddy!” Crowley had just enough time to spin on the spot before the little girl leapt off the stairs in the throne room and into his arms. “It's park day!” She squealed as her father grunted at the impact of his four year old slamming into his ribcage.

“Yes, my little Candi Cane, we are going to the park today.” He huffed as he caught his breath and settled Candice on his hip. She giggled at the sound of her nickname and waved bye to the couple demons that had been in the throne room as her and her father headed back toward your bedroom.

Crowley absolutely adored his daughter, giving her everything she could ever want or need in spades and he never once mentioned her true lineage nor did he let on to the few and far between moments that he saw when he would look at her and see a hint of your past mistake for a couple seconds. You had both been grateful that Candice was nearly your spitting image and that the only major thing that wasn’t yours was her eyes. If you were to judge by her eye color alone; however, you would think she was Sam’s daughter.

“Mommy it's park day!” Candice called out as your daughter and husband walked into the room; chatting up a storm about slides and swings. You looked up at her from the day bag you had been packing with a laugh.

“Yea baby, we are going to the park.” She squealed in joy and threw her little arms in the air in celebration for a full day out of your home in hell.

“What are you feeding her? She nearly knocked me on my bloody arse.” He chuckled as he set his daughter down on your bed, holding her hand in his knowing full well that she was going to jump on the bed like she always did no matter how many times you both told her not to.

“Oh, you know… c-a-k-e and i-c-e c-r-e-a-m.” You spelled out, not wanting to start a 4 year old hissy fit over not getting her favorite desserts at that exact moment. Crowley chuckled as he turned his body slightly to make sure his little girl didn’t accidentally jump off the edge of the bed and you pointed at him and picked up the bag. “You spoil her rotten.”

“I do nothing of the sort. I treat her as a princess should be treated.”

“Yeah, yeah. You tell me the same thing and you still won’t let me eat chocolate in bed.” He glared at you as he picked up Candice in his arms to take you all to the park.

“That is because for the sake of everything unholy, you cannot eat chocolates in bed without feeling the need to wipe your smudgy little fingers all over my pillow case because you find it amusing.” He smirked and walked over to you and you looked at the ceiling with a shit eating grin on your face. “Yes, that would be you, my Queen. Do not attempt to deny it.”

“I plead the 5th on that one your Majesty.” He laughed whole-heartedly as he pulled you into his chest; his hand coming to rest on your back side and he leaned down to whisper in your ear.

“Plead the 5th all you wish. You know if I really wanted to I could fuck the answer out of you right here and now.” He stood up immediately and forced a cough to cover up the moan that escaped your lips. “Ready my little monkey?” He asked. Candice crinkled her nose the same way you did for a moment and gave him the only thing she inherited from her biological father; the signature Winchester pout.

“I not em monkey, daddy!” She told him as her bottom lip poked out. Crowley didn’t draw any attention to the face no matter how much it stung and he thumbed her bottom lip to make her smile instead.

“Do this.” He said as he puffed out his cheeks with air. Not knowing what she was getting herself into, Candice mimicked her father. Crowley let his cheeks fall flat and smiled at her. “See you're a monkey.”

“No daddy. You’re em monkey.” Crowley scrunched up his nose at her, making Candice giggle adorably as he put his arm around your shoulder. He gently blew in his daughters face to get her to close her eyes so she wouldn’t be sick. She squealed in laughter at the slightly weightless feeling she got as Crowley brought the three of you to a random park by a lake. When he stopped blowing, Candice looked around, screeched like a monkey as she always did twice a month on park days and began to wiggle out of her father’s arms. He had just enough time to drop her “special park necklace” (a pink hex bag) around her neck before she dashed off to the playground to enjoy the beautiful day.

“You’re an idiot.” You told him as the two of you walked over to a bench to enjoy a day without phones or distractions with each other.

“She set herself up for it.” He chuckled and you laughed and looked at him.

“Baby, she’s four! Of course, she set herself up for it.” Crowley simply shrugged and draped his arm over your shoulder.

“She will learn one day.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“What do you want for dinner, princess?” Your husband asked as he held the children’s coloring menu up and you smiled at him lovingly as he pointed out the various food choices. This was your favorite part about park days; sitting down at a local diner as a regular family. It was your way of keeping a sense of normality in your daughter’s otherwise extravagant life and to keep her humble. She pointed at her choice politely and held her hand out for her crayons, taking only a moment to remember to say ‘pwease’ when her daddy held the crayons just out of her reach.

“What are you havin’ baby?” You inquired as you stretched your legs under the table and rested them on the booth in front of you between your husband’s thighs. He pursed his lips as he looked over the menu and his free hand fell into his lap to lazily rub your ankles.

“Darling you know I am not a fan of diner food.” He said as he read over the menu with a smirk. He looked up at you through his lashes. “I must watch my girlish figure after all.” You laughed and tapped your foot gently on his thigh. You sighed in contentment and leaned back against the booth as the love of your life gently massaged the back of your leg while you waited for the waitress to come over to take your orders.

“Part of me wishes we could do this every night but the other part of me could never give up real Italian pasta or fresh Turkish baklava… You spoil me, baby.” He smiled at you and opened his mouth to respond when the happiness fell from his face and was replaced by pure rage.

“Well it’s always interesting to see you outside of business hours, Crowley and in a shitty diner, no less.” Dean mocked as he leaned against the back of your booth. You sat up straight, dropped your feet to the floor and looked up at him; unsure of how you felt about his sudden appearance. His mouth dropped open when his eyes fell on Candice and you watched the color drain from his face. You didn’t even get the chance to blink before Crowley jumped up and grabbed Dean’s arm to drag him from the restaurant; his eyes bright red in anger.

“Daddy, where you goin’?!” Candice squeaked with terror in her voice. She was a daddy’s girl through and through and hated being left behind. Crowley forced himself to put a calm mask on to not scare his child and turned back to look at her with calming brown eyes.

“Daddy has to go talk to his friend, sweetheart. I’m coming back; don’t you worry, little one.” She nodded, satisfied with his answer and went back to her coloring. His eyes flooded red once more and he turned back to Dean. “Walk. Moose; stay with them.” As Crowley dragged a terrified, angry and mortified Dean out of the diner, Sam stepped around them and came over to you.

“Well that ought to be a fun talk.” He said, relieving a smidge of the tension that lingered at your table. You stood up, gave him a hug and shrugged your shoulder.

“I take it he doesn’t talk about her when he’s around y’all, does he?” Sam shook his head as he looked at your daughter with a small smile on his face.

“She looks a lot like you.” You nodded and sighed softly.

“She has your hazel eyes.” Sam looked down at you and you smiled. “I know. I was surprised too.” He hummed and looked back at the little girl trying to commit her to memory. “Don’t tell Dean or Crowley that I told you because it would only hurt one or both of them but you have the right to know. Her name is Candice MacLeod. Her birthday is Christmas day so she will be turning 5 this year.”

“Has it really been that long?” He asked and you nodded slowly. The both of you stood in silence for a moment before Sam cleared his throat. “Thank you.” You nodded with pursed lips and glanced up at him.

“You don't have to thank me, Sam. Shit, we had only met twice and we made the agreement together because of that. Dean was too drunk to remember not doing it and with the Mark and their budding bromance it was the smarter move to make. We both knew I would go back eventually, both knew that you and Crowley weren't on good terms and we both agreed that if this was the outcome of your one night stand with the future Queen of Hell, it would have gone over a lot smoother with Dean as the culprit over you."

“Are you ever going to tell him she’s mine?” He whispered and you shook your head.

“No, it’s too late for that. But just so you know, he does right by her. He's treated her like she was his from day one. I know that doesn't make this situation any easier for you but I figured you would feel a little better knowing your daughter was healthy, happy and loved.” Sam nodded and brushed a stray tear off his cheek.

"Honestly, (Y/N) for what it's worth... with everything Dean and I have gone through in the past 5 years, it is actually comforting to know that she is safer with you and Crowley. That's all I ever wanted; to know that my child was safe from the evils of this world and didn't have to be raised in this lifestyle like I was. I could never give her that." You gave him a weak smile before both of you turned back to Candice. You had an idea pop into your head and you took his hand, stepped toward the table and crouched down, pulling Sam down with you.

"Hey Candi Cane..." You said gently and she looked at you and smiled. You heard Sam breathe deeply at getting to see his daughter's face and his eyes completely for the first time and you squeezed his hand in support. "This is mommy's friend from a long time ago. His name is Sam. Can you do mommy a favor?" You asked your daughter, knowing that this move would be risky but worth it. She nodded and you squeezed Sam's hand in an attempt to prepare him. "Can you look him in the eye and tell him that you love him for me. He doesn't believe mommy when I told him you loved everyone in the whole world." Sam squeezed your hand tightly as a giant smile lit up his little girl's face and her eyes changed slightly from a total hazel brown to a slightly more bluish color the same way Sam's did as she looked at him.

"You gots ta listen to my mommy, Sam. I luv all the peoples in the whole wide world; specly you cuz your mommy and daddy's fwiend!" He smiled broadly at her; lost for words and visibly fighting back tears. With a smile, you told her to go back to coloring her picture for daddy as you and Sam stood up.

"Fuck... that… thank you." Was all he managed to get out before you stepped in and gave him a hug.

"I hope that didn't make this harder." You said as you pulled away and he shook his head as a few tears fell from his beautiful kaleidoscope eyes.

"Seeing her so happy with both of you proves to me that we were right in what we did. I would love to be in her life, but I know this way she's happy and safe and that's all that matters to me in the end.”

“Sammy, let’s go!” Dean shouted as he ripped open the diner door, a look of terror and anger on his face as a very smug Crowley strolled past him. You and Sam exchanged a quick smile that said everything it needed to and he took a second to wipe away a couple stray tears before he looked at his daughter one last time. With an appreciative pat on your shoulder, he turned around and left the diner and you forced yourself to tuck your thoughts about that night to the recesses of your mind once more.

“Have a nice chat?” You asked, with a smile on your face as you and Crowley sat back down in the booth. He nodded and kissed the top of Candice’s head who was thankfully lost in her coloring once more.

“Just had to remind him of his choices is all.” You huffed a laugh and glanced out the window as the Impala pulled out of the parking lot. You caught Sam’s eye immediately and with an appreciative nod from him, the two of you said your silent goodbyes. You looked back at your husband and put your feet back up between his knees on the booth, feeling a little freer despite the lie that was told all those years ago.

“So what is Mr. Girlish figure having?” You teased as you picked up your menu again; already forgetting about the real one night stand you had in Costa Rica.

Part 6

#Crowley x Reader #The Ring & The Cure

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fxtelism-moved · 6 years

Text

@sphinxsmuses

(continued from here)

Iyumi didn’t notice Leon enter the room where she was destroying everything she could get her hands on in a fit of rage. “Why won’t he get it in his head that I like him? He’s so oblivious! Not fitting a king at all! I should just move on! But-But I can’t! Why!?!” she screeched.

And it seemed Leon came in a bad timing as she threw a hissy fit, throwing every possible object she could hold on to. This wasn’t good, especially when Iyumi was most likely referring to him.

For now, he should give her some space for a little longer, though when doing so, the door gave some unfortunate creaking.

#is leon in trouble now? ^-^;#sphinxsmuses #( ic. )#;leon #{ Iyumi Akuma }

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gyromitra-esculenta · 7 years

Text

The Edgiest Fairytale 3

This is still a thing.

It was, on the whole, a pleasant late morning in the gardens – even if the wyverns had already started on their daily routine of unearthly screeches of affection. It did take some time getting used to but at least they kept the rat population down, and courtiers even named all three chicks that were now the size of a well-fed pig each, probably thanks to the pouches used to keep scraps of meat that were all the fashion rage at the court nowadays. Red Menace was actually lounging in the fountain, Little Mean Fucker was digging in the roses, and Leg Humper was playing with Ripper.

A usual morning, all things considered, the King surmised, at least until something fleshy-pink waddled slowly to the table. The Kind set down his cup and stared down the abomination. After closer inspection, it had a head of a black bird, an imposing beak, lacked a scaly tail, and one most certainly would be hardpressed to refer to it as cuddly or cute. The abomination tilted its head to the side and observed the King back with a peculiar kind of intellectual curiosity.

Then it cawed.

And, with a strange flowing melodic cadence, added, “fuck my finger.”

“My love,” the King addressed the Queen, “it seems we have some sort of a new infestation.”

“Is it trying to kill you?” The Queen did not look up from her embroidery. She was at the most stirring point right now and pitied be any fool that made her put away her needles.

“No, love, it told me to fuck its finger.”

“Maybe Gabi is finally taking his necromancy studies with the proper seriousness that befits his age.”

“Fuck my finger,” the abomination repeated waddling closer, much to the King’s chagrin. “Thread!”

“And now it wants thread.”

“There are some silk scraps in the basket I won’t be using, dear, help yourself,” the Queen nodded. After all, she should not be expected to do everything around here.

“Very well, my love,” the King acquiesced and, after choosing the right thread, lowered it towards the abomination. The creature happily clamped its beak on the prize and turned around, right in time for Gabriel to swoop running into its sight. It hopped gleefully in place. Gabriel grabbed it with bandaged fingers while swearing creatively under his breath. “Care to explain, Gabi?”

The young prince looked down at the abomination in his arms and shuffled on his feet.

“I needed feathers for my new cloak so I plucked Muninn and the scoundrel run away?” Gabriel explained fast, ready to bolt. The Queen sighed. There went all hope their offspring finally conformed with the generations-long family tradition of necromancy. Well, it couldn’t be worse than the impromptu interpretative dance recitals.

“Fuck my finger,” the raven agreed and then affectionately pecked one of the young prince’s bandaged fingers.

“Ow, you foul wretched beast, see if I rescue you from the felines again! I’ll put you on display in a cage for all your friends to see and ridicule!”

Suffice to say, the first real forays into the realm of the dedicated art of sewing did not entirely agree with Gabriel.

Gabriel also would first be caught dead than admit that he was looking forward to the promised next meeting with the blonde lout just to see his face now, after all the soul-crushing suffering he poured into his new coat adorned with raven feathers. To be frank, Muninn and Huginn were the first of many sacrifices after he decided one too many a time to change his design, and now he had a flock of quite naked ravens to look after back at home.

Alas, after several months of missing the blonde yokel and finding instead scraps of parchment nailed to his door written in illegible chicken scratch (all burned later) and maybe a time or two his bed looked slept in and there was some free chopped firewood (sometimes it did get cold in the woods), Gabriel lost all hope, at least until he heard the happy yipping of the traitorous Ripper mingled together with screeches of one of the wyvern chicks. And then…

“Good doggie, I got something for you!”

“Ha,” Gabriel opened the door to his hut with a bang, “this is you again, and this time I’m going to suck out your life!”

The blonde looked up from Ripper and Little Mean Fucker gorging themselves on some big slab of meat and whistled with appreciation – and no, Gabriel didn’t feel all warm inside, and even if he did, it was the anger, yes, definitely the anger, and maybe a tad extreme dislike.

“Now, this is so much better,” the boy nodded. “It’s almost stylish. And you got gloves. The mask still sucks, though,” he added, petting Ripper absentmindedly. “Besides, the sucking thing, you mean like a vampire? Vampires are not demons, and last time you said soul.”

“You won’t sway me with words this time, trespasser!” Gabriel, remembering their previous exchange, positively bristled. “Your end is coming and no force under the sky will stop me!”

“Right. Name’s Jack,” the blonde boy grinned, extending his hand. Gabriel regarded it with contempt. It was kind of dirty, but when he did look closer, it seemed more like blood, not just grime. There was also a horse standing at the edge of the clearing with a deer strapped to its back.

“Reaper,” Gabriel offered after a long pause, ignoring the hand.

“Right.” Jack squinted at him. “Not Death?”

“What?”

It was at that moment that Little Mean Fucker finally decided to live up to its moniker and chomped on the blonde’s hand.

Gabriel was just finishing wrapping up Jack’s hand (with his own linens that he had brought here himself, to boot!) when the simpleton, ignoring all subtle clues, decided it was time for another dim-witted attempt at conversation.

“She’s a feisty girl, ain’t she?”

“Girl?” Gabriel scrunched his face in distaste. “It is naught but a beast!”

“Well, no, she has girl ridges. It’s a girl,” the blonde patted Little Mean Fucker’s head with his left hand. The wyvern was sitting by the table, hunkered down, and visibly considering chomping on the other offending appendage. Silently, Gabriel was kind of, a little, cheering it on.

“Girls are a plague upon this world.”

“Yeah,” Jack squinted again at him which gave his face decidedly dumb expression, not that any other looked better on the blonde, Gabriel was sure. “But they have breasts?”

“The harpy I will not wed has no bosoms!”

“Arranged marriage, huh? I feel you.”

“And what could a lout such as you fathom about the curse that overshadows my desperate life as a prince!?” Gabriel tied off the bandage hard delighting in the wince it earned him.

“I’m a prince too,” Jack snickered, raising one of his eyebrows. “The gentry is everywhere.”

“Prince of yokels, I assume.”

“Meh. So how’s yours like?”

“She is a sniveling wretch that tried to murder me with poison,” Gabe muttered remembering ‘The Shrew, Her-Of-The-Toad-To-Face-Incident’. The prospective presence of possible bosoms was no redeeming quality in his mind.

“Mine is a screaming melodramatic harpy,” Jack sighed, remembering ‘The Bitch, The-One-That-Definitely-Deserved-A-Toad-To-Her-Face’. Nothing excused the hissy fit she threw. Nothing. Jack would never admit he was simply scared of her.

“And it interests me not so you can go now and never come back,” Gabriel narrowed his eyes at the blonde accusingly. “You slept in my bed and I had to air all my sheets to get rid of the smell and fleas!”

“Well, you weren’t there, and it’s your dog that has fleas. They are big bloodthirsty buggers, right.”

“And you ate from my dishes!”

“I washed them up. Your seasonings suck, by the way,” Jack pointed to the shelf. Gabriel looked to his reagents and then at the blonde, with a certain amount of aghast acknowledgment. “One made me burp bubbles for a week.”

“How are you even still alive, you daft imbecile?”

“I’m immortal?”

Any line of questioning Gabriel wanted to pursue was cut short by Mean Little Fucker when she finally decided to go for the prize dangled before her lizard eyes.

The current tally was two points in favor of the wyverns.

#sometimes i write #r76 #reaper76 #edgiestfairytale!au #proper part #crack it's crack #noper

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twisted-broth · 7 years

Text

Jealousy Pt. 3- Lafayette x Reader

Reader gender: female

Warnings: Swearing, family arguments, fluff

A/N: It’s here! The last part in the series! While this is the last part, I’m a little tempted to do an extra part where I rewrite the first part in Laf’s POV. However, unless you guys actually tell me you want that, it will be a long time coming. Anyways, back to the actual story.

Part One Part Two

When you woke up, you nearly screamed when your realized what day it was. Today, you would officially be Y/N de Lafayette. You had woken up at about seven with your wedding starting at five. You internally groaned, knowing the sisters would be here any minute to pick up you and your sister.

However, the adrenaline of the situation overcame your annoyance and you quickly hopped out of the bed that Lafayette had left previously. You got changed into a dress with a loosely tied corset that you knew would be tightened later.

You went down to the kitchen to grab breakfast and was greeted by your beaming sister.

“Y/N!” She screeched, choking you in one of her infamous hugs. “Are you ready? Gilbert left an hour ago, he said to tell you he love you, and you got a letter from mom.”

She held out a expensive looking envelope for you to take. You gingerly took it, scared of what it might say. After ungracefully ripping open the envelope, you took out the piece of parchment and smiled at the once familiar handwriting.

‘Dearest Y/N,’ it read, ‘I hope this letter finds you in good health. I don't believe I will be able to congratulate you enough for finding a man you truly love. My marriage with your father was arranged and, despite our acting, we despise each other. However, it gained us more money so we stayed together. I regret not being as brave as you and now being stuck with someone I do not love. I wish I could be there to congratulate you myself but, your father forbids it. I am glad to hear S/N made it. She may also have an arranged marriage but, she and her fiancé do not seem to mind each other. Remember that I love you and I sincerely hope your marriage is successful and brings you much happiness.’

You had to wipe a tear or two from your face when you finished reading the letter. It had never really occurred to you just how much you missed your mother. She was always there for you when your father was cruel to you. How could you not miss a woman as amazing as her?

“I miss her.” You sighed.

“I know, sis, I know.” S/N wrapped her arms around your shoulders and gave you a reassuring squeeze.

You heard a knock at the door and quickly went to answer it, knowing it to be Angelica and Eliza. The girls bombarded you with hugs the moment you opened the door.

“What are you crying about, girl? There's no crying on the wedding day!” Angelica exclaimed, wiping away the remainder of your tears with her thumb.

“Sorry I just got a letter from my mom.” You laughed.

“Well come on, we've got work to do!” Eliza grabbed you by the hand and dragged you out of the house with Angelica and S/N in tow.

Gilbert was getting ready at the Hamilton household so you would be working at Angelica’s.

You walked past John, who was reading a book in the couch, and continued until you got to Angelica's room. The girls pushed you into a chair and swarmed you, gripping all sorts of different hair and makeup products.

Better make yourself comfy, Y/N, you're gonna be there for a while.

____

When they had finally finished, they turned you away from the mirror and helped you into your wedding dress.

“Ready to see?” Eliza asked excitedly.

“I've been ready for the three hours you've been doing it.” You sighed.

They laughed lightly and guided you to a mirror. You couldn't help but gasp at the sight before you.

Your hair was done in a braid crown whilst the remainder of it cascaded down your shoulders in soft curls. Small white flowers peeked through the hairs that were circling your head with one large white rose making its appearance above your right ear.

Your makeup was light, but still breathtaking. Any and all blemishes were covered with a layer of foundation and powder. Pale pink dusted your cheeks. Solid black lines came together to make a sharp wing at the edges of both eyes with white eyeshadow contradicting it. Intense red lipstick lined your full lips.

All that, paired with your gorgeous dress, was enough to take your breath away.

You turned and gripped each girl in a bone-crushing hug.

“It's amazing. Thank you guys.” You breathed.

After all the other girls were finished with makeup and hair, it was nearing four. You shook with nerves as you all loaded into a carriage to take you to the wedding venue.

“It's going to be okay. Don't worry.” Angelica assured you, softly rubbing your knee.

“But what if a tornado comes? What if the food gives everyone diarrhea? What if Gilbert hates my dress? Oh god, what if my dad shows up?” Anxiety overwhelmed you as you listed off all the possible things that could go wrong.

“Y/N M/N L/N, as your bridesmaids, S/N, Angelica and I are going to make this the best wedding you could possibly have. I guarantee you that none of those things will happen.” You smiled at Eliza's promise.

“Thanks, I'm just-” you took a shaky breath, “I'm just really nervous.”

“We can tell.” S/N laughed.

You exited the carriage and entered the small building in front of the place where the wedding would actually be held. Alexander waited for you there, as he would be the one walking you down the aisle.

After waiting for a few moments in eager anticipation, you were informed that the groomsmen and groom had finished walking up and you were clear to go.

You nervously watched Eliza exit through the back door. Applause could be heard as she walked down the aisle. Next came S/N. Sweat seeped from your plans into the stems of your bouquet as your time grew closer. Finally, Angelica left leaving just you and Alex.

“Ready?” He asked, holding out his arm.

“As ready as I'll ever be.” You responded, linking his arm with yours.

“Wouldn't it be better if your real father walked you down the aisle?” A voice you hadn't heard in a long time spoke from behind you.

You whipped around, terrified of what you would find.

“Dad?” You asked in astonishment. “Why are you here? Get the fuck away from me! You ruined part of my life I'm not going to let you ruin today!”

“Y/N, calm down. I came to congratulate you.” He took a step forward.

“Bullshit! Stay away from me!” You took a step back, running into the door you were about to walk through previously.

You dad's arms were in the air as he took another small step in an attempt to get to you.

“You heard her, back off!” Alexander demanded as he stepped in front of you.

“Please, I-” he was cut off by the doors opening, which you quickly stepped away from.

Gilbert stepped through, quickly taking on the surroundings of Alexander blocking you from the man Gilbert recognized as your father.

“You're that little brat that Y/N threw a hissy fit about three years ago! This is- of course. Why am I surprised that you would marry someone like this.” Your father directed his last comment at you.

Gilbert hurried to your side as you stepped out from behind Alex. “Mi amour,” he gripped your arm, “are you alright? I heard the yelling. Do I need to get him out of here?”

“No, Gil, it's okay. Let me just talk to him for a moment. Alone, if you would.” You pleaded.

Alex and Gilbert reluctantly left the room, shooting daggers at your father as they passed.

“Y/N, please hear me out. I just-”

“Shut up.” You snapped, “Look, I know you didn't just come here to kiss my cheek and call it a day. I know you're still pissed because you told mom that you guys wouldn't come except, you're here and she's not, meaning you lied to her. So you must have come with a reason that she wouldn't approve of.”

He let out a half hearted laugh, “Well done Sherlock. Yes, I suppose I'm not here with the best intentions. At least, not to you. I came to ask you to change your mind. When I received your invitation, I realized how much I missed you.” He put a hand on your arm which you retracted immediately.

“You never cared about me. You just wanted me so I could marry someone rich. And once your slow mind works it out that ‘wow this guy actually has a lot of money’, you'll be begging me to come back because you are just that desperate. But you're not my family anymore so you can just leave.” You allowed all your pent up rage to shine through in your small rant, shocking your father.

He sighed in defeat, “Fine. I'll leave you alone and never speak to you again if that's what you want. Just say the word.”

“Get the fuck out.” You growled.

Without another word, he left the building just in time for Alex to enter again.

“Sorry to barge in. Laf got worried and- oh he left.”

“Yeah. So, are we ready to go now?” You asked, trying to push any leftover thoughts of your dad out of your mind.

“If you are.” He held out his arm once again.

Nodding, you took his arm and opened the doors.

People stood and clapped when they saw you finally come out. An old lady sitting at a piano started playing a classical piece you had picked out. You looked to the end of the aisle to see Gilbert, looking worried but still smiling. When you eventually reached the end of the aisle, the music stopped, everyone sa down and Alex gave you a tight hug before going to stand in his spot behind Gilbert.

“You look beautiful.” Gilbert whispered, taking your hands in his.

“You literally saw me about ten minutes ago.” You laughed.

“That may be true, but that still doesn’t change facts.”

The priest cleared his throat for attention before you could respond. However, you couldn’t care less about what he had to say. He talked for what seemed like hours while all you thought about was how lucky you were.

You didn’t realize it was time for vows until Gilbert started talking. “Y/N,” he said, “my love, the moment I laid eyes on you at that ball is a moment I’ll never forget. You changed my life with that one glance. As John or Alex or Herc can tell you, I was jealous of Lee before I even knew your name. Just from watching you I could tell that a man like Lee wasn’t worthy of you. God, I’m sounding stalkerish again, aren’t I?”

You gave a light laugh, shaking your head.

“That’s good. The year we spent together before I went off to war was the best year of my life. Knowing I would get to wake up and see your face every morning made me almost as happy as actually seeing you. Your smile makes my day and I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life seeing it.”

“Gilbert,” You started, “you saved my life that night at the ball. You were the reason I yelled at Lee and managed to get my life back. And when my father disowned me and you took me in, oh I can’t thank you enough for that. You are one of the kindest men I’ve ever met and I am elated that I have the honor of spending the rest of my life with you rather than a coward that I don’t love. You are truly the highlight of my life. I love you, Gilbert.”

“I love you, too, Y/N.” He sighed.

“The rings?” The priest called.

Lafayette’s little sister walked hurriedly down the aisle, holding a cushion adorned with two rings. You each took a ring and she quickly made her way back to her seat.

“Do you, Marie- Joseph Paul Yves Roch Gilbert du Motier, Marquis de Lafayette, take Y/N M/N L/N to be your lawfully wedded wife? To love and to hold, to cherish, until death do you part?”

Gilbert slipped the ring onto your finger, “I do.” he whispered, his eyes nearly flooding with tears.

“And do you, Y/N M/N L/N, take Marie- Joseph Paul Yves Roch Gilbert du Motier, Marquis de Lafayette to be your lawfully wedded husband? To love and to hold, to cherish, until death do you part?”

You put the ring on Gilbert’s finger, a tear of your own sliding down your cheek, “I do.”

“Then, without further ado, I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

Hamilton Taglist

@kirstentheineffectiveemo @snowbubby1 @mistypancake10666 @fulmoonwulf @spaceoutloud

#hamilton #my writing #lafayette #marquis de lafayette #lafayette x reader #marquis de lafayette x reader #daveed diggs #daveed diggs x reader #hamilton x reader

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