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howlingday · 2 months

Note

Dark AU: An idea of how to transition into the Dock scene could be Jaune and Penny go into Vale proper to buy things, Penny gets distracted (pet shop with Betta fish on display perhaps?), notices Jaune isn't around and Sun runs into her while running away. As an apology of sorts Sun helps Penny search for Jaune. Meanwhile Jaune was taken by some faunus on orders if spotted for questioning. (He may not have been revealed as the sole survivor to the public but there are ways to find out for an info broker.) Questioning becomes violent when Jaune gives answers they don't like. Brought to the docks heist to be left behind as an example. Somewhat escapes (Roman/Neo taking pity?) as Penny shows up lasers blazing. Aftermath Jaune gains confidence by saving someone, Penny maybe tells Jaune the truth and Sun eats a banana.

Just an option; if taken change how you like.

Also thanks for listening and for the content!

I like your idea, but I think I know just how to tweak in the way I've been looking for...

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"Do you really have to see the betta fish again?"

"Yes, of course!" Penny replied, walking next to Jaune. She couldn't stop herself from shaking with excitement. Her favorite time of the week was to go to the pet store and look at all the beautiful betta fish on display. This had become routine since her arrival at Beacon a few months ago, and it was one that she and her partner had no intention of breaking. "Oh? It's closed?"

"Looks like it's being renovated." Jaune noted from the sign. Oddly enough, there were still pets in the window, including betta fish. "Kinda weird for these animals to be out here where it's so sunny."

Penny didn't respond. She was too engrossed in the elegant dance of the betta fish darting about in their tanks and bowls. Jaune smiled as her green eyes darted from one fish to another within seconds between them.

"Hey, kid." Jaune turned, seeing a man in a black apron. "You lookin' to buy?"

"Oh, no, just browsing." Jaune waved off, quickly dismissing his excited partner behind him. He swore he heard her neck snap.

"You sure?" The man tilted his head down, brow raised. "Maybe you want a pet? Something to keep you calm? Like a cat?"

"No, no, really, I'm sure, Mister..." Jaune narrowed his eyes on the nametag. "...Leon?"

"Well, if you're sure. But would you like to help feed them? Kinda got a lot and my back's been aching all morning."

At this, Jaune's face lit up. This was his chance to do some good for once, instead of just sitting around and wallowing in his own self-pity at Beacon. And huntsmen did help those in need, right? Jaune gave a nod.

"We'd be happy to help, right, Penny?" He turned to see his partner didn't respond, too engrossed by an especially red and blue fish. "Well, I'd be happy to help." He got closer to his partner. "Hey, Penny? I'm going to help feed some animals. I'll be inside, okay?"

"Mm..." Penny said, though it may not have been in reply to him.

Giving a shrug, Jaune followed the man inside. The inside was warm and dark, with no lights or any kind of air conditioning on. Were the animals really okay in this kind of environment? It didn't seem safe.

"So, uh, where are the animals?" Jaune asked as he entered the room in the back.

"It's faunus!" Everything went loud and dark. All of a sudden, Jaune couldn't feel anything. Not even the throbbing swelling lump on his head.

----------------------------------------------------

"Okay, I think I lost them- ACK!"

Penny fell to her side as a young man was straddled over her. His shirt was unbuttoned and wide open, showing off his toned abs while a golden tail swirled from his torn-up jeans. Penny gave a blink a couple of times before she realized what had happened.

"Oh, excuse me!" She said. "I'm sorry if I was in your way."

"Nah, nah, it's cool." The monkey faunus pulled himself to his feet before lending a hand. Penny took it and quickly rose to stand. "Sorry about that. I was just running away from some, uh..." She scratched his head. "Uh, nevermind. The name's Sun Wukong! What's your name?"

"I am Penny Polendina, and this is... Jaune?" Penny turned, looking around. "Jaune?"

"Is Jaune your pet?"

"He is my assigned partner at Beacon Academy."

"Oh, you're going to Beacon? Same! I'm from Haven Academy!"

"I see! Where is your team?"

"They'll get here eventually. I took the fastest way I knew!"

"You abandoned your team?"

"Ah, they'll understand." Sun waved her off. "So, uh, where'd this Jaune partner or yours go? He ditch ya?"

"He would not ditch me. He could not ditch me."

"Oh..." Sun clicked his cheek. "You guys are like that, huh?"

"He is my partner, and I am his. It is up to me to ensure his mental state does not diminish to critical levels."

"Uh... huh..." Sun walked around. "Well, if you guys are that close, then he probably didn't get far." He pointed to the pet store. "You think he's in here?"

"Unlikely." Penny answered. "The building is being renovated."

"With the door wide open and nobody inside?" Sun entered the building, followed by Penny. "Seems kinda weird, not gonna lie." He sniffed. "Wait." He sniffed again. "Oh no..."

Sun quickly rounded the empty cages to the counter, tossing the door aside. Looking down, he could see a clean floor, but his nose didn't lie. Following it to the closet in the back, he found a person laying inside, unconscious.

"The shopkeeper!" Penny shouted. She swiftly turned and ran for the back room. "Jaune?!"

"Ah, hell..." Sun groaned. "The last thing I'd want is to get the cops involved, but it looks like that's what's gonna happen." Sun picked the phone off the counter but set it down when there was no dial tone. "Lights out, hot as Vacuo, and no phone service? There's a lot wrong with this picture."

"Sun! I have found something!" Sun jumped the counter, running to the back room where Penny stood. The inside looked to be a garage with an open door to the back alley. There were skid marks on the ground and a white flag held aloft in the girl's hands. "I think I know who has Jaune."

On the flag was a familiar red symbol of a beast and claw marks.

----------------------------------------------------

"Where is Jaune now?!" Glynda screamed as she paced the floor of the headmaster's office. "You don't know is not an acceptable answer, Miss Polendina. Jaune Arc is your partner, which means he is your-"

"Glynda!" She flinched, looking to Professor Ozpin. The look on his face was a rare instance of anger. He seldom showed it, which meant it wasn't an emotion to be taken lightly from him. "Hand me the scroll. Focus on finding Jaune from here and ensuring all students are back at Beacon Academy."

"Yes, Headmaster." She gulped, handing over the scroll. "Excuse me, I didn't-"

"You're scared. It's understandable, Glynda." The way he used her first name to calm her down worked, though only a little. "But fear is not what we should be using to respond to this. Now do as you were instructed." With a nod, she left the office, tapping on her personal scroll. "Miss Polendina, this is your headmaster speaking. Remain calm and explain to me what has happened."

Ozpin sat and listened, simultaneously coordinating with police and huntsmen across Vale to find his missing student. This wasn't the first time a student went missing, nor could he hope it would happen be the last. But there was one thing he would do if his power allowed. Jaune Arc would not die. His first years for the current semester may have been single digit numbers, but they would not drop lower than they'd already had.

"Can you determine which direction the tires were going?" He asked, at the same time updating the mission board for the responding huntsmen to read. "Have you contacted the authorities? Are they with you now?" Thankfully, the woman and the animals in the store were alive, though blunt force trauma to the former and heat injuries to the latter hardly constituted as 'and well'. "And you say a student from Haven Academy is present with you?" This would be the most awkward task, since that meant he'd have to explain to Leonardo that one of his students had arrived in Vale months early for the Vytal tournament.

Unfortunately, with all these questions being answered, too many were still left unknown as they appeared. Why was the White Fang in Vale? Why would they kidnap Jaune? And most importantly, where had they taken him?

"Ozpin!" Professor Goodwitch slammed open the door to his office. "We've found him."

----------------------------------------------------

"Good evening, I'm Lisa Lavender. Tonight, for our top story, we have an interview with the student who survived the initiation of the mass student deaths at Beacon Academy, Jaune Arc." She smiled to him. "Thank you for coming to us, Jaune."

"N-No problem." Jaune gulped. When he woke up, men with bone-white masks pointed guns at him and told him to stay where he was. One of them had pointed ears on his head and the other had a tail curled over his belt.

"Now, Mr. Arc, I understand this is a very difficult topic to discuss, but the audience would appreciate if you could tell us what happened to you at Beacon Academy."

"Uh..." He glanced to the side, where the camera was looking right at him, but not as threateningly as the man next to it holding a gun. With a shaky breath, he made the choice to relive that horrible day. "I... I left for Beacon Academy and when I got there, I..." He gave a chuckle. "I threw up in the trash as soon as I got off the bullhead. A little while after, I met a girl who was in a crater. I... I think it was a dust explosion. She... She told me her name was Ruby."

Jaune's throat dried up, but he kept talking because if he stopped talking, what was going to happen? He'd get shot? He'd die? Telling this woman, the people in the room, and if the camera was any indication, the whole world, everyone was listening to him. However, the next part of the story was the worst part.

"I... I watched as Ruby, she..." He swallowed, feeling tears well in his eyes. "She wasn't as old as me, so seeing her like..." He shook his head. "I'm sorry, do I have to keep going?" He looked to the woman with tears spilling from his eyes.

"Only if you want to." She placed a hand on his.

He flinched as the gun racked, reminding him of who was really in charge.

"I-I-I..." He shuddered. "One girl was tossed over the side of the cliff. I listened as she screamed until I couldn't hear her anymore."

"Do you remember who it was?"

"It... It was the girl with the white hair."

"Do you mean Weiss Schnee, the heiress to the Schnee Dust Company?" He nodded. She closed her eyes and shook her head. "A tragedy felt just as tenderly as everyone else who'd perished that day."

He could hear one of the gunmen give a chuckle.

"My partner and the blond girl... I think one of them was Ruby's sister... They... They both died to the big scorpion one."

"The Deathstalker." She nodded. "And your partner was Pyrrha Nikos, wasn't she?"

"Yeah, she... She helped unlock my aura."

"You entered Beacon without your aura unlocked?" She sounded genuinely caught off guard. "What would possess you to do something so dangerous?"

"I..." He sniffed, glad to be away from the topic, if even for a little bit. "I wanted to prove myself. I was a nobody, and I just... I didn't want to be a nobody forever. A disappointment."

"Well, Jaune, I have to say that what you did was, in my personal opinion, the most selfish, stupid thing you could have done." Jaune's eyes widened. "People have dedicated their lives to training and honing their bodies, their skills, their mental fortitudes so that they can protect innocent people from the horrors of the Grimm, and you attended Beacon because you, 'wanted to prove yourself,' if I'm using your words right. People are dead, Jaune, and how exactly did you survive?"

"I... I went into the caves and..."

"And you hid." Lisa venomously spat. "Like a coward. Weiss Schnee is dead, Jaune. Pyrrha Nikos is dead. Ruby is dead. Every single one of those students is dead because you couldn't act. Because you didn't have the training to do what innocent people would be counting on you to do if you did make it as a huntsman." She threw her arms in the air before folding them. "What did you expect to happen, Jaune? That you and these girls would go to the academy, be best friends, and then just spend the rest of your life going on adventures as a huntsman?" She jabbed a finger at him. "The world isn't a fairy tale, Jaune. People fight and die because the Grimm are monsters who won't stop until we're all dead. But you wanted to prove yourself? Well, I think you've proven yourself well enough... as a coward."

Jaune... did nothing. What could he do? He'd just been slandered to people all over Remnant. His parents, his teachers, complete strangers just heard him get broken down by this woman and called a coward for all the tears he shed. And the worst part of it all was that she was right.

Jaune fled with that girl into the caves after the others died. He didn't have any power to stand against those giant monsters those girls died to, and he thought he could come into Beacon at the same level they did. He was a sham, a fraud. Every word said against him was the truth, and he just had to sit there and accept it.

"I'm Lisa Lavender. Thank you for watching."

"And cut!" The world became loud around Jaune as people moved this direction and that, leaving him seated in his chair. Lisa Lavender had already left the room, though not before shaking her head and scoffing in disgust.

"Come on, kid."

Jaune was grabbed by the shoulder and shoved. He looked up and saw the bone-white mask with red marks. Suddenly, the person in the mask didn't look or sound like a person, but like a monster, growling at Jaune as he fell over, kicking himself away across the floor and to the wall. It gave a bellow, roaring at him to no move. Breathing quickened, fingers twitching, Jaune wanted to let out a scream but couldn't figure out how. Fear attracted the Grimm and his body was in a panic, set to remain frozen so he wouldn't be bothered. The Grimm bellowed a chant.

"One! Two! Three!" Light flashed, and Jaune shut his eyes to not see the girl's face. When he opened his eyes, a different girl was looking right at him.

"P...Penny?"

"S-Sal-u-tations, Jaune!" She cheerily replied. "Do you... require assistance?"

"Surrender your weapons!" Another familiar voice called. "You're all under the custody of Vale Huntress Goodwitch!"

"Over here!" A blond boy waved over to the pair.

As they started moving towards him, a gunshot was heard, making Jaune flinch and fall to the floor. He could feel himself sliding before hands grabbed him by his cheeks and green eyes filled his vision. "Jaune, it is okay. I am here!"

"Penny?" He grunted, blinking before shaking his head. "I'm... I'm good. Thank you, Penny." The students met up through the doors, Jaune panting as he leaned against the wall. "Who... Who are you?"

"Name's Sun." He said. "You're Jaune, right? Penny's told me about you."

"Yeah. Did sh-" Jaune stopped as he looked at Penny, who had her back to him. She'd been shot, but where there should have been a wound, or maybe even nothing because of aura, there was an indent in her body. Like bent metal. Jaune's feet gave out under him and he fell into the black again.

----------------------------------------------------

"Heck of a performance you did, Miss Lavender."

"Thank you, Roman." The woman on his scroll said. "And really, thank you for providing me with that interview. I'm sure to get an award for that one."

"Anytime, sweetheart." He grinned. "Your news special was just thing we needed to get these schmucks to look somewhere else tonight."

"Will there be a story for me to report tomorrow?"

"Isn't there always?" He chuckled. "I'll deliver my appreciation with the flowers." With a tap, the call had ended, and Roman reveled at all the dust him and his boys had managed to haul from the docks. Walking out of the warehouse, he lit up his cigar, taking a few puffs. "And they say there's nothing original on the news."

#rwby #jaune arc #penny polendina #sun wukong #lisa lavender #dark au #ozpin #glynda goodwitch #roman torchwick

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 5 months

Text

Once Upon a Time 4

Warnings: non/dubcon and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Characters: Andy Barber

Part of the Bookstore AU

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

Your morning begins lazily. You're not used to functioning without a sense of urgency but it's nice. You take your time having your coffee and nibbling on toast in front of the television. You finally find the motivation to get dressed just after eleven, intent on hitting the country store before you let another day off fade into oblivion. You've been saying you'd go for months and it always turns into 'just don't have the energy.'

You take the train downtown then find a bus to the edge of the city, just a ten-minute walk from the country store. The commute alone is an hour, the temperature dipping even lower without the shield of the urban sprawl. You shiver as you finally reach your destination, like a warrior cresting the drawbridge of a mythical castle.

Inside, there's a cozy atmosphere. The smell of cedar wafts through the air as you marvel at the vast expanse before you. As you browse the signs denoting the contents of each aisle, you set off towards the wool section, hoping to finally teach yourself to knit. Just before the confection area, there's a small table set up and woman greets you before you can reach the crafts. She offers you a sample of chestnut cocoa. Sounds interesting, but somewhat unappetizing. The chill in your bones cozens you to the promise of liquid warmth.

You blow over the top of the cup, smiling awkwardly at the employee. The store is somewhat bustling but that area seems to be a bit dead. You taste it and give a wobbly hum. Not bad, actually. You'll at least be able to finish it.

"Oh, it's good," you say.

"If you would like to buy some, you can take a coupon," the woman offers.

"Oh, sure," you accept out of kinship for your fellow retail worker. You take a coupon and thank her again.

"What's this?" A voice has you quickly stepping out of the way as the rattle of a cart rolls close.

"Good afternoon, sir," the woman puts on her best chime, "would you like to try a sample of our hot chocolate?"

"Hm, I guess," the man drones and you freeze in the spot. No way.

You keep your head down as you sidle away but hit the cart parked behind you with your hip. You apologise without looking up but your name reels you back. You cringe at the store and go rigid, slowly turning on your heel to face Andy.

"Oh, hi," your voice piques, "what are you doing here?"

"Shopping," he says as if it should be obvious. He pauses and accepts the small cup from the lady at the booth. "Aren't you supposed to be working?"

He tweaks his brow and you look away guiltily, "uh, yeah, actually, I... switched shifts with Chelsea so... yeah."

"Wow, that's... interesting," he says, "well, interesting seeing you all the way out here."

"Yeah, very," you agree, almost genuinely. What are the odds?

"My friend recommended the place," he sniffs the hot chocolate but doesn't drink, "you come here a lot?"

You bounce on your feet impatiently. You glance over at the employee awkwardly watching the interaction. You've been there before.

"First time," you answer, "anyway, I... I'm just gonna keep going," you look at the worker, "I don't want to clog up the area." You wave a palm at Andy awkwardly, "nice running into you."

"You too," he returns quietly.

You swallow and back away. This is so weird. Coincidences happen, sure, but it's not like this place is a Target. You clutch your cup tight as you walk away, keeping your eyes forward as a shudder stays trapped in your ribcage. Something's just not right. Or maybe you're thinking too much.

You veer down the aisle of yarn and blow out the breath caught in your chest. You stop amid the various shades of pinks and purples and peer down into the cup. Your stomach is churning violently and you don't think it's the drink.

You try to shake off the encounter and linger amidst the needles and threads. You wander down the next aisle and browse the paints. You're not very artistic but you could probably manage a paint-by-number. You click your tongue and continue on without purchase. You're not sure you want to waste the money.

You end up near the checkout at the rack of handmade sweaters. You like the patchwork on the one, even if it reminds you of a 90s sitcom. You slowly turn the rack as you weigh the value of the sweater. You peek up and see Andy just on the otherside as he rolls his cart by. Before you can dodge his look in your direction, he waves. You have to wave back but quickly go back to searching the rack.

You take the off the bar and dally by the card stand, waiting until you see Andy leave before head up to checkout. You toss your empty cup in the bin at the corner of the counter. You go to the till and pay, taking your time as you dread the walk to the bus.

You accept your bag and receipt and zip up your coat on your way out the door. You check your phone for the bus times. You'll have to move fast to catch the next one or wait an hour for the one after that. You hurry past the parking lot, head down against the cold, and head up along the unpaved path parallel to the road.

As you get to the stop, you tuck your hands in your sleeves and face the road, peering longingly down it. You didn't see the bus drive by so you should be on time. You chatter as you hear gravel mulching in the other direction. There's a honk as the car slows and you grimace as you watch it take a U-turn and come up on your side. You wobble on your legs as the window rolls down.

"Cold out," Andy calls over the empty passenger's seat, "need a ride?"

You shake your head, "no, it's fine. I got other places to go."

"I don't mind. I figure since I'm out here."

"Really, I can't accept," you offer a vacant smile, "thanks, though."

"It's really not safe for you to be out here--"

"The bus is on its way," you argue, a bit more terse than you mean to.

"I know, I'm trying to be nice."

"It is nice, okay? But I don't want a ride."

He idles there, quiet, waiting. You have nothing else to say so you once more look down the road. He sniffs and grips the headrest on the passenger's seat.

"Why not?"

Your smile falls away completely as you look at him. Something about his expression adds to the frigid chill. You wet your dry lips and sway.

“To be honest, I don't take rides with strangers.”

“Well, I'm not a stranger,” he puffs out.

You shrug and shake your head, “I said no thank you.”

“Right, got it,” he huffs, “see ya, I guess.”

He rolls up the window as you stare at your boots. He drives away, swerving to reverse direction once more. You flinch as the gravel mulches and wait until the hum of his engine dissipates.

His last words echo, as much a threat as a promise.

#andy barber #dark andy barber #dark!andy barber #andy barber x reader #defending jacob #au #bookstore au #series #once upon a time #drabble

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spookyspecterino · 7 months

Text

Confessions

Sam Coe x GN! Reader

GN! Reader. No pronouns, no use of Y/N, or reader descriptions used.

Fighting, enemy death, language, confessions of love, kissing

Two short stories of times when you and Sam tell each other I love you.

So I started this with the typical canon scene in the game, tweaking it to how I would personally write it, and then said...wait, I could make something else entirely. So I wrote both. They're back to back, separated with a text divider.

This was requested by @wisperwin 😊 Hope you enjoy!

Requests for short 1K fics are open while I write out a longer fic. Send in your asks!

Sam’s favorite spot in Akila is more in the open than you imagined, it was basically a bar porch, but as soon as you sat down at a small table in the corner it felt like him. As if a tiny piece of himself lingered here. It wasn’t hard to imagine a younger version of Sam sitting and looking out at the courtyard on cool evenings just like this one, with the sun setting slowly on the horizon.

Even on your way here you noticed a difference. He seems happier, lighter on his feet. He’s taking his time with things, not rushing from task to task or place to place.

When he pulled you aside and invited you here, told you how special this place was to him, it had your heart fluttering like a small bird.

After sitting for a moment and looking out at Solomon Coe’s statue, Sam turns to you with a smile. “For the first time in a long time…I feel peaceful. Like I can just exist… and I have you to thank for that.”

“All I did was give some encouragement—you did all the hard work.” You say, shrugging sheepishly.

He smiles, shakes his head a little, “Don’t sell yourself short. It probably wasn’t easy dealing with my constant complaining about Lillian—and then actually going to meet her, and help her, and then escort her, and—”

He stops at the sound of your good-natured laugh. “You don’t have to list out everything, Sam. We might be here all night.”

“Yeah, yeah. What I’m really trying to say is thank you.”

“You’re welcome. I’d do it a thousand more times if it meant seeing you this happy.”

His face softens, something in his eyes change. “Listen, there’s also this other thing I’ve been meaning to talk with you about.”

Your head tilts a little. “I’m all ears.”

Sam’s shoulders tense, he clears his throat, then takes a deep breath. “I have feelings for you—certain feelings. Feelings that I can’t really…that I don’t know how to…” He sighs, brows pinching together. “Sorry, this is hard for me.”

He shifts his weight slightly. “You know what, I’ll just say it. The truth is…I’m in love with you. I have been for a little while now.” He scoots to the edge of his chair, leaning in and placing his hands on the table. “I’ve been meaning to say something, but the timing was always off, or we were busy getting shot at.”

You can’t help but softly and breathlessly agree. “We get shot at a lot.”

“Exactly. I just uh—I needed to tell you before some other crisis inevitably came up. And I know this might be coming out of nowhere for you, I’m not—I’m not the most obvious guy.” He takes a deep breath. “So, if this is too sudden, or if you need time to think about it, or mull over your own feelings—I’m good with that. I’ll give you some space.”

His blue eyes find yours in the dim evening light. They’re uncertain, nervous. The way he holds himself, he’s trying not to fidget. He grips at the edges of the table one moment, then brings his hands up to trace his fingers along the lines in the wood top surface.

You’re caught watching his hands dance skittishly. Since you’ve met him, Sam Coe has worn the cool, calm, and stoic nature of a typical Freestar Ranger. His nervousness solidifies how seriously he’s taking this.

Without much forward thought, you reach across the table and hold his hands in yours. Maybe—once, or twice—you imagined what you might say to him if you were ever presented with this situation. But that all went out the window as soon as you started talking.

“It may be a little sudden—you’re a hard man to read sometimes—but I’m really glad you said something.” You give his hands a reassuring squeeze. “I love you too. Since NEON.”

Sam lets out a breath he’d been holding, some of it comes out in a chuckle. “Since NEON? Like, when we first got there, or when we last left—?”

“Does it really matter?” You ask, teasingly.

“Guess not. I just…now it’s my turn to be surprised. I really thought you were gonna turn me down.”

“You can’t be serious. I’ve been flirting with you so much.”

This makes him laugh. “I thought I was imagining things for a little bit, but when I started flirting back…”

“That was you flirting back?”

“Yes. I was really trying—oh, you’re teasing me, you’re having fun with this.” He shakes his head with a fond smile, leaning in too. His voice is affectionate. “Smartass from the moment I met you—knew you were trouble.”

Your faces are close now. “Ah, but you love me for it.”

“Damn right I do.” He pauses, eyes glancing down at your lips. One of his hands lets go of yours to bring your face closer, gently tugging at your chin. “Come ‘ere, you.”

He kisses you softly. Bristles tickle your face with just a brush of his lips against yours, they leave a hot trail in their wake. Searing and lingering on your skin.

Sam knows the effect he has on you, and if by some chance he didn’t before, he knows now as your breath shortens and you fight not to chase after him.

That half smile-half smirk breaks through his love-struck expression. “I love you. And later on, maybe I’ll show you just how much.”

Gunfire blasted into the metal walls around you. The sharp whizzing of bullets was much louder due to the enclosed space of the enemy ship. Crouched behind some cargo crates, you looked across the aisle to the other side of the narrow dead ended hallway. Sam leans up against his cover, also a short stack of Cargo.

He caught your eye and half-smirked. “Not looking good, is it?”

“Chances are slim, but—", you duck as a bullet whizzes past, “—but we’ve been through worse.”

He snorts, firing a few blind shots from cover. “When?”

“Oh, you know, that one time.”

“No, I don’t think I do—please, refresh my memory.”

“We were getting shot at, just like this.”

“Sweetheart—” He fires another shot but flinches back as chunks of the cargo crate fly near his face. “—that’s just about every day for us.”

“Yeah, but it was a really specific time.” You fire two shots, ducking in and out of cover. You don’t have time to count how many heads you see. “Uh, maybe like when we went to that zero-grav casino?”

“Almagest?”

“Yeah! That was definitely worse.”

“No way, we had that place cleared in 20 minutes, tops. And there was plenty of cover—” he leans, firing wide shotgun blasts in two concentrated areas “—and plenty of ammo, and we were never cornered, and—"

“—Sure.”

“What do you mean, ‘sure’? Why’d you say it like that?”

“I must have a different memory of how it went down, is all.”

He leans back against the cargo and laughs. “Are we really debating in the middle of a gun fight?”

“I’m happy to give this one to you. Really, I am.”

That made him laugh even harder. “Oh, you’re letting me win—you’re somethin’ else you know that?”

You hear a gap in enemy fire and take the opportunity to peak around. There are at least eight or nine more enemies crouched and moving around. You see the muzzles of their guns and crouch behind your cover just as their returning fire starts back up.

“Let’s say I was wrong—” He starts.

You’re quick, grin lighting up your eyes. “—is this a hypothetical? Are you doing hypotheticals now when you can’t admit you’re wrong?”

His head hangs down, you can see his shoulders bouncing. “Goddammit, you’re too funny for your own good.”

“I love making you laugh, even when we’re about to die or be captured by pirates.”

Enemy fire patters out, there’s some shouting from their end. Heavy footsteps approach. Sam readies his pistol; you pull out a knife. As soon as boots come into view, you kick the pirate’s legs. Sam fires a shot, and you sink your knife into their chest. The pirate jerks once and lies dead.

Sam straightens a little, calling out. “Hey, how ‘bout you send a few more down here! We could use the change of pace; this is starting to get old!”

The pirates immediately begin firing again.

He leans back against cover. “My point is, that if we’re in a worse position than when we were on Almagest, then these might be our final moments together.”

“Kind of a downer to start something that way but go on.”

“I wanted to say a few ‘thank you’s, for all you’ve helped with.”

“Oh wow, is this like…your last will and testament? Are we doing that now?”

He laughs again as he leans out from cover and fires. “I’m trying to be serious here.”

You join him, firing at a pirate’s exposed leg. Your first shot clips a calf and there’s shouts of pain. Sam manages to take out a pirate that exposes themselves too soon. You both lean back into cover when Sam’s shotgun needs reloading.

“I wanted to thank you for helping me and Cora with pretty much everything. You didn’t have to, but you still did. That means a lot to me.”

“It was worth it, for you and Cora.”

Sam’s smile melts into a look of pure warmth and affection. It makes you pause, humor giving way to the gravity of the situation. He said his piece, it might be a good time to say yours. And if you end up living through this, then, you’d still have finally said what’s been on your mind for weeks.

You clear your throat, momentarily busying yourself by checking over your rifle. “And, since we’re being serious now, there’s something I wanted to tell you too.”

Somehow you feel more nervous saying this than facing the pirate firing squad behind you. When you’ve taken a deep breath, you meet his eyes. “I love you.”

You’re not sure how to read his wide-eyed expression so you just keep talking. “I don’t know exactly when it happened or when I knew for sure, but I’m head over heels for you, Sam. And if this is how we go out, then I’m just glad it’s with you.”

A gap in noise is your cue to fire. You straighten from cover, doing your best to quickly find a target. The top of a helmet is exposed. You catch a glimpse of the visor shattering as your rifle round hits. Something bumps your leg. You’re so caught off guard that you drop down, reaching for a knife.

But it’s Sam. He used your fire as cover to cross the aisle.

Before you can really say anything, he takes your face in his hands, pushes you up against the cargo, and roughly kisses you. It’s messy, a tangle of lips and rough, scratchy beard. Your teeth click together once or twice. The intense heat from his lips against yours and his hands on your face grounds you—tells you it’s real.

You’re too busy grasping at his jacket, shirt, the back of his neck—doing anything to bring him closer—that you don’t hear shouting or gunfire stop. There’s only faint recognition that new shots are being aimed somewhere else, or that it’s moving away.

It’s the ringing in your ears and the deafening silence that catches both of your attention. You each snap into action, pulling guns and whirling toward the aisle, expecting to see a pirate come into view. But no one’s there.

Instead, an altogether different voice calls out, “Freestar Rangers! If there’s anyone there, show yourself!”

Your hands go up immediately, Sam’s do too. “We’re not pirates! Don’t shoot!”

“Come out real slow, hands up!”

Moving out of cover, you see the ranger uniform and badge. The ranger’s eyes go wide. Their gun lowers. “Hot damn, Deputy. Got yourself into a pickle, didn’t ya?”

“Wouldn’t know what we would’ve done without you ranger, thank you.”

The ranger tips their hat in acknowledgement. Another voice—presumably a second ranger, calls them. They half turn to listen, then with a curt, parting nod they turn to leave.

You take a breath, caught by surprise at the rescue and more than a little mixed up emotionally. Clearing your throat, you try to act normal. “Well, we didn’t die. Shall we claim this as a victory or chalk it up to a stale—"

Sam’s gruff voice, followed by his hand spinning you around, gives you chills. “Hang on, I’m not done with you yet.”

This kiss is less desperate, it’s slower, and passionate enough to make your knees go weak. Sam’s hands knead at your hips before moving to your lower back to pull you against him.

When he leans back, leaving your head reeling, his smirk is the first thing you see. “I love you too, just in case that wasn’t obvious.”

Your grin is slow to spread, but it lights up every inch of your face. “I’m sorry, what was that? My ears are ringing, didn’t quite catch it.”

Something deep rumbles in his chest, he presses his lips to yours, separating out his words with stubborn kisses. “I’m—in love—with you—too.” He can see the glint in your eyes as you slowly open your mouth. “You can’t play the deaf card twice in a row.”

“Damn. Ok, just say it one more time before we go back to the ship.”

Sam chuckles, one hand coming up to brush a thumb along your jaw. “How about I show you later, instead?”

#sam coe #sam coe x reader #gn reader #starfield

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heart4reigns · 1 year

Note

i had this idea for roman where reader is like the sweet girl wrestlers go to when they really want to have a match with someone because she’s really good at persuading the higher ups and roman really wants a match against (a wrestler of ur choice) cuz he thinks that will blow the audiences minds so he goes to talk to her and as time goes by in the convo, they drift off and start taking about life and relationships and like days after they start bumping into each other more and more and one of them soon develops a crush ✊✊✊✊✊✊ (sorry if theres any typos)

IN BLOOM, roman reigns.

warnings: curse words, inaccurate events, alcohol mentioned, teasings

tags: i love writing out of the ring roman like it's so fun,,, bisexual reader since i love shotzi, THEORY FLIRTING, had to tweak several things to fit the plot!! i hope u don't mind <3 why does (y/n) has a saul goodman vibes here i just realized that

summary: you’re really good at your job

THE room was filled with excitement as you shook your boss’s hand. “you will be the death of me, ms. (l/n). we have a deal!” you smiled at him, only to receive the same gesture. “then it is settled," your boss paused for a second. "lynch against rollins... i think it's a solid deal." you nodded at his sentence. "tell them to come to the office tomorrow, we'll talk about the deal. thank you for bringing yet another great idea, ms. (l/n)."

"YOU'RE JOKING?" seth was practically yelling in your office. "no, i scored it. although the two of you," you pointed at becky and seth. "have to come to the office to sign the contract." becky immediately stood up and hugged you. "god, thank you (y/n)... i don't know why you’re so good at this.” she chuckled. “hey, it’s my job to make sure that everyone enjoys their job.” “you’re a blessing, (y/n). should’ve been here since 10 years ago.”

your office became empty as the two lovebirds left. you were satisfied with your bookings for next month. the couple had been asking for the higher ups to put them in the ring together, but they would always decline–saying no every time they proposed the idea. they came to you, being the talent relations, you had to step up for the wrestlers and give the people what they wanted. being in the board meant that you knew how the games were played, people had a soft spot for you as you were an amazing sweet talker.

ever since you were hired as talent relations, you were mostly in charge of the bookings that happened. the company noticed that the wrestlers were enjoying their matches and it was all because of you. you gave them what they wanted, gave the people amazing shows, you were very good at your job.

"you really scored a high-rating today." "honestly, i know i don't stand a chance with my girl, but i had so much fun." the two wrestlers were talking backstage. "that's because i know your weak spots." becky replied, drinking her water. "finally got our dream match. all thanks to (y/n)." roman's ears perked up. "talent relations did all of that?" he furrowed his brows. "oh yeah, she's really good at doing her job. got gunther and ali against each other, who else... brock with cody? that's all her doings." seth replied.

roman reigns was interested.

everyone seemed to speak highly of you as you were one of the sweetest and nicest one in the board. all his bookings were done by his manager, but he realized that he was bored of them. he needed a chance. roman needed to talk to you. "dude, eve from marketing was asking for you!" jey opened the locker room door. "i'm not interested, how many times do i need to tell you that?" roman groaned at his cousin trying to set him up. "damn dude, give her a chance." he shook his head.

"who else should we set you up with?" jimmy asked. "what about cath from creatives?" jey furrowed his eyebrows. "naaah, she has a husband." roman grew annoyed by his cousins. "rather than setting me up with someone, can y'all help me talk to (y/n)?" that caught their attentions. "what do you want from her?" jimmy squinted his eyes. "yeah uce, don't mess with her. she's like a baby sister to us here!"

the man groaned once again. "nah man, i just need to talk to her about work stuff. where is her office?" roman asked, still earning curious looks from his cousins. "i'm being for real, you remember the bianca match that we talked about? i heard seth and becky scored a match because of her." the twins nodded in unison. "room 12, 5th floor. if you pull some flirty shit, we will end you." that was a genuine threat from the twins.

you yawned, feeling sleepier than usual. caffeine sounds like a good idea, you thought. you just got back from the arena, you were very satisfied with your own bookings. seth and becky gave it all for today's match. you never doubted them from the start. "hi, (y/n)." the barista greeted you. "hi, the usual please! make it 2, i'm buying for my assistant too!"

when you exited the lift, you expected to see your assistant on her desk, typing some emails, but she was not there. you opened the door, expecting it to be empty. "i hope i'm not rude for entering your office, your assistant told me to just walk in, she said she was going to creatives to print your schedule by the way." you almost dropped your coffee when you saw a certain black-haired man sitting down on your chair. "o- oh, hi!" you greeted him, despite feeling rather intimidated by his presence.

"hello ms. (l/n). i'm roman, can we talk a bit about some things? if you're busy then we can schedule a meeting." his voice was as charming as he looked. "no, no. i'm free! please sit down and (y/n) would do!" you walked to your chair, facing him. it was your first time officially meeting him, as all of his bookings were made and signed by his manager. "so, how can i help you?" you knew when a wrestler comes to your office they were in need of help. whether it was a push or a gimmick change, you were always ready to help. "i heard from seth that you managed to score his latest match and it was amazing." you smiled at his sentence. "always ready to help the lovebirds, they are so kind."

"i want a match against bianca." and you were already interested in his proposal. "okay, continue." you said, typing down the plan. "bianca and i were talking the other week about this match and we really want it to happen. let her win, she deserves it. but all the fans really want us to face each other as we are both champions... i just think this deserves a run." you nodded, completely understanding the situation. "i couldn't agree more. wait, i'm looking for your report... socials told me that a lot of your fans want to see you in a mix match."

you turned your laptop monitor around, showing him the report from socials. "i think it's gonna be amazing, roman." you grinned as you saw him scanning the monitor. this was the first time he saw his social reports and people really wanted to see him in a mix-gender match. his eyes widened in surprise as he saw your tabs, you were already writing the email. to say the least, roman was impressed with your skills. "damn." was all that came out of his mouth.

"i just need to talk to bianca's manager about this and we're all settled. i'll propose the idea in the next board meeting." roman was about to ask if he should be in the next meeting or not. "don't worry about all the negotiations and the contracts. sit back and relax, your manager will bring you the documents after i score this deal." you answered his unspoken question.

"wow." he was flabbergasted. "(y/n), how are you so good at this?" roman asked. "oh, i love my job and i just want the talents to enjoy their job as much as i enjoy mine." you gave him an honest answer. "that's just pure dedication, they should induct you in the hall of fame." he joked, feeling comfortable with your friendly presence. you chuckled at his joke. "trust me, i feel like i deserve more than just a hall of fame induction, i should be the president for this company." roman laughed.

now he understood why people spoke very high of you. you bring positive vibes that was truly needed in the industry. "thank you, (y/n)." roman blurted out, genuinely thankful for your help. "no, no. don't thank me yet, i'm just doing my job!" roman shook his head. "not putting pressure on you, but i know you're gonna do an amazing job." you smiled at him. "thank you as well for trusting me, roman! i'll be there when the match happens. i also watch all of my bookings."

"so you were there when the twins fought the judgement day?" you nodded. "they did an amazing job, we got drinks after that... that night ended well for everyone." his eyes lit up. "you're close to them, right?" you nodded once again. "they're the best honestly, always helping me with ideas. kinda miss them. you should really come next time we're having a drink off!" you said.

"that sounds fun," he paused for a second. "you know, the locker room speaks very highly of you, (y/n)." you felt your cheeks reddened. "but it's funny how this is the first time we meet and they're right about you being this friendly." roman couldn't even deny your positivity. "like i said, i want everyone to enjoy their time in the ring." you replied with a happy tone. "how did you even get this job, sorry but... you look too young to be in charge."

you got that a lot and you were used to it. "honestly, you're not the first person to say that. i was just lucky, i guess... i was in public relations before this but they moved me to talent relations because they had to cut some crews, so i guess it was my lucky day." you told him about your backstory. "i love it here, it's better than being stuck with externals... i made a lot of friends along the way." you continued. "sorry, i'm just rambling." you realized that you were talking a lot.

the man immediately shook his head. "no, it's fine! i love hearing the upstair stories." he encouraged you to continue. "well, what do you wanna know? i have a lot of gossips about everything." you wiggled your eyebrows. "i even know about your secret romance with one of the crews from 2 years ago." roman's eyes widened in surprise. "that was only a short relationship!" he was shocked that you knew everything. "hey, i'm no one to judge, but janice? janice from marketing? she was a pain in my ass."

"oh come on, what about you and shotzi?" you rolled your eyes. "we decided to part ways in a mutual way, we're best friends now! oh my god, everyone knows?" you furrowed your eyebrows. "it was a locker room gossip. they kept teasing her about dating you..." the conversation continued between you and the universal champion. your alarm rang, it was time for you to clock out of work.

"i'll text you the outcomes for the meeting," you paused for a second to put your things inside your back. "i won't let you down." the two of you stood up in unison. "you're driving?" he asked. "no, i'm probably gonna call for taxi. my car is being repaired since seth accidentally knocked over my lamppost." you chuckled as you remembered the incident. "then let me take you home, that's the least i can do for taking up your time."

the car ride wasn't silent at all. "and i told her that we should stop seeing each other, she quitted her job after that." roman was telling the story about how he dated janice from marketing. "damn... that was why she dropped every project. you're the one to blame." you joked. "hey, it wasn't working out." he defended himself. "i know, i was joking. so, you seeing anyone now?" you asked him. "heard from the twins that they are setting you up with someone from marketing again." roman made a mental note to smack his cousins heads. "damn, they really should shut up sometimes. and no, the dating scene for me is out of reach."

"why is that?" "because i haven't met the right person, i guess."

you agreed with him. the dating scene for you was a mess as well. nothing really worked out for you, maybe you were too focused on making other people happy that you didn't have the time to focus on yourself. "damn, i couldn't agree more. but hey, at least we have our jobs, right?" roman nodded. "right, i think it's nice that we share the same perspective towards things, i can tell we're gonna be good friends, (y/n)." you giggled at his sentence. "i'd love to be friends with you, roman!"

needless to say, the two of you kept in contact as you were going to score one of the biggest wrestling matches in his entire career. you were preparing for the meeting when you saw a certain black-haired man roaming near your office. "roman?" you furrowed your eyebrows. "hi." he greeted you with a smile as you hugged him. "sorry, a habit." you apologized. "no worries!" he returned the gesture. "what are you doing here?" you asked, clearly confused. "i feel like i should help you in the meeting, if you don't mind. jey said it should be easy when the talent is there too." he was very considerate and that warmed your heart.

"good morning, everyone!" you walked into the meeting room, with roman on your side. "good morning, ms. (l/n) and... reigns?" people were obviously confused. everyone knew you were going to pull some shit and they will still fall for it. "as you can see right here, i brought roman with me because we have something we'd like to propose." everyone's attention was on the two of you.

he was impressed as he saw the board all agreeing with you. even though you were the youngest in the board, everyone seemed to respect you. another score, you thought. "i don't know how you do that, but i am very impressed." roman whispered to you. "it's my talent." you winked at him. you shook your boss's hand, finalizing the deal. "ms. (l/n), once again... outstanding like usual. might give you a promotion for this if this works out." your eyes lit up in excitement. "thank you boss."

roman and you exited the meeting room, clearly holding your squeaks. "oh my god!" you squealed, feeling thrilled for the upcoming match. "(y/n)... that was amazing!" he couldn't help but to hug you. "i'm so excited, good things are coming for you!" you hugged him back, feeling smaller in his arms. "fuck, this calls for a celebration! call your cousins, let's fucking get wasted tonight!"

the friendship bloomed as time passed by. you saw him quite often in work (more than before you were friends). a 'hi!' or 'do you wanna eat after this?' made everyone questioned your relationship with him. sure, you were nice to the talents but seeing you with the tribal chief himself was kind of out of place for you since you were always with him.

he was happy. it was the first time you worked together and the chemistry was there. he threw ideas and you would make them happen. roman was involved with the script and the choreography, which made you very excited for the match. that man was dedicated to his work, he was practically married to his job. but that didn’t stop him from making time for you. after rehearsals, it became a habit for the two of you to spend the night at a random parking lot, talking about everything.

you learned a lot about him and he learned a lot about you. he didn’t want to admit it but you were definitely his type. you were fearless, not afraid to say what was on your mind. he couldn’t help but to be attracted to you.

you were walking with him to the locker room, preparing for his first encounter with bianca. to your surprise, the locker room was full of people. "uce, i swear. you're taking her away from us!" jey complained. "hey, let's not fight... we haven't reached that timeline yet." you joked, earning a laugh from the locker room. "heard you scored this match, you never disappoint." solo patted your back. "so when are we fighting?" jimmy nudged you. "my man, you would instantly knock me out. i'm not built for the business."

everyone was talking to you, you were the center of their attentions. always throwing jokes and making people smile, you really lived up to your reputation. roman saw theory slinging his arm on your shoulders and he felt something he had never felt in years... was it jealousy? was it something else? he couldn't deny that you had a magnetic charm surrounding you, causing people to gravitate close to you.

"you never have time for me, (y/n)." theory pouted causing roman to raise one of his brows. "sorry, i've been busy with the entire belair-reigns fiasco... my office is always open though." you replied, putting down his arm from your shoulders. "no i meant like a date or something." the entire locker room boo-ed at him. "stay away from (y/n), she's for the girls only." bianca complained. "nah man, she's for the chief only." roman swore he'd throw some punches at his cousins if you weren't in the room.

"ooooh, romance brewing up?" you flushed in embarrassment, trying to cover your face with the rundown papers you had in your hands. of course you were attracted to the wrestler standing in front of you. you couldn't help but to be attracted as he was one of the nicest wrestlers you have ever met. not to mention, the two of you immediately clicked after your first meeting.

the locker room people couldn't stop teasing you, causing you to be flustered. "come on, that's enough. can't you tell that we're friends?" roman slung his arm on your shoulders, your face redder than before. "gotta be honest, the two of you look cute together." bianca added. you made eye-contact with roman and immediately looked away. "i mean, we do look cute. gotta be honest." roman was just adding fuel to the fire. "okay, now can we focus on the match today? this is so embarrassing for me." you admitted.

"(y/n) has a crush on roman!" "i do not!" "your face says otherwise!"

truth be told, everyone knew that the two of you were going to end up together. it was a matter of time till the romance bloomed into a relationship.

a/n: aaaa not my best writing to be honest but i tried my best!!! (i’m on a writer’s block fr) i hope u enjoyed it <3

#roman reigns #the usos #wwe #wwe imagines #paul heyman #jey uso #roman reigns imagine #roman reigns x reader #wrestling #cody rhodes #jimmy uso #solo sikoa #bianca belair #austin theory #shotzi #becky lynch #seth rollins

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thebest-medicine · 7 months

Text

Day 8: Truth

Tickletober 2023 - Critical Role - C2 Mighty Nein - lee!Caleb

[see my other tickletober 2023 fics]

A/N: (based on the idea from this post that I'm going to find and link at some point) The Nein are drinking late one night at a tavern when Caleb drunkenly admits to Yasha that he doesn’t mind when the others tickle him and that it’s kind of fun and nice to laugh and smile openly and be close to people. Yasha isn't the only one who hears.

[read on AO3]

Words: 1.2k

—

“Ah, ich weiß nicht, it’s-” Caleb slurs a bit between languages. “You all- there’s, you have a way about you all, or- or we, maybe, have it- and it.. It always pushes, challenges… subverts what I am expecting.”

Yasha watches him, listening intently and nodding along. “I get that..”

“Sometimes it’s- frightening or, not comfortable right away but-” Caleb’s mouth twists at the corner, his brow furrowing. “But- but good, too.”

“Yeah? Like what?” Yasha tilts her head curiously, smiling gently in a tipsy haze. (She is much bigger than Caleb, and she was already starting to feel something. So. She tries to do the math. Caleb’s probably pretty drunk.)

“Like, how um.. I guess..” Caleb trails off, a blush coming to his cheeks as he reminisces. “I’m not used to this much…” He pauses, eyes and mind searching for the right word. “Kindness, lightness. It’s, it’s nice being around people who go out of their way to make you happier.” His smile quirks up to one side, and he glances over at the tieflings. “Sometimes literally.. by force.”

Yasha chuckles at that. She understands exactly what he means having spent as much time as she has around Mollymauk, and now Jester too.

“They’re quite persistent, aren’t they.” Yasha acknowledges, talking in her hushed tone to the wizard. He nods, and she laughs, bumping shoulders with him and clinking her drink to his. She’s smiling when she reaches out and tweaks gently once or twice at his side. Caleb’s resulting laugh blends in harmoniously with the happy, amused noise coming from every seat at the table. His elbow twitches downward on instinct, a little delayed by the alcohol.

When she pulls her arm back, she runs her fingers over his neck. He lets out a sweet little giggle, scrunching up a bit. Unbeknownst to Caleb, this picks up the admiration and attention of more than just Yasha.

“Aww, that’s pretty cute.” She grins. “I can see how Jester and Molly get carried away. But, it’s kind of fun, huh?”

“Oh, ja it’s- ha, it’s- it’s really not that bad, but- it also kind of makes me want to teleport away sometimes.” Caleb sits back in his chair a moment, laughing. He takes another swig of his drink. “It’s not so bad - well, it was the first couple of times,” he laughs again, “but I think I’ve started to grow… more tolerant.” He shakes his head. “It’s- it’s kind of nice… Light, you know? It’s also terrible. But it is- it’s fun.” Caleb smiles sheepishly, ducking his head as he takes another drink.

“You don’t mind it?”

“Ah, no, like I said, it’s not so bad.” He pauses for a second to think, hiccups, and laughs a little. “It’s kind of fun to put up a bit of a fight though, a ruse. Heh, regardless, it’s- it’s new and.. nice to feel so light afterwards.”

Caleb startles at the feeling of warm breath near his ear opposite Yasha. “Is that so?”

Caleb turns, and in a drunken daze makes as though he’s going to just answer honestly. He starts to reply. “Ja, heh- there’s a lot I- um.” He stops. Molly is grinning at him. “Uh..” A shiver runs up his spine as his heart works double time to pump blood to his flushed cheeks. His eyes flicker between other members of the group, and he spots Jester and Beau looking his way with silly grins as well. “Um. I’m-” Caleb nearly leaps out of his seat, knees hitting the table as he bolts to a stand. “I’m- uh, I have to- I’m going to bed.” He spins on his heels as the sound of reassurance and protest breaks out behind him.

“Caleb, wait!” He hears Yasha call out, but he’s already halfway across the tavern room, the stairs up are in sight. He speed walks past and makes his way up the stairs, only stumbling a little in his drunken stupor.

Finally, he gets up to the bedroom he and Nott are sharing for the evening. He drops his face into his hands, sliding down the back of the door after having hurried it shut.

“Fuck.”

He takes a few deep breaths, tries to remember what he said, who heard him, how long they were listening. While at the same time, he tries to ignore just how embarrassed he feels. What was he thinking, talking to Yasha about something like that- and right next to everyone - exposing secrets, however mundane or silly. He sighs, letting out a weak groan. “Scheiße..”

Caleb jumps when there’s a quiet knock on his door. It’s quiet for a few long moments before Jester’s voice, soft and quiet, comes through the door “Hey, Caleb…”

Caleb groans into his hands again. “…Ja?”

“…Can I come in?” She asks, and her voice is gentle, hesitant.

It’s quiet for a long moment. “…Is it just-”

“Just me.” She adds quickly.

Caleb sighs, wipes a hand over his face, and gets up to open the door.

“Ja, what is it?” He tries to banish the heat from his cheeks as he runs a hand through his hair.

Jester looks kind of wilted, and it makes his heart ache just a little bit.

“I-” She bites her lip. ��Look, I don’t want you to come up here and be all sad and alone. - we weren’t trying to eavesdrop. And like, I get it- I looooove being tickled. So, I- we don’t think it’s embarrassing or anything so don’t worry, okay?” She perks up and watches him anxiously like a nervous cat.

He fails to stop the blush from growing on his cheeks as she speaks. He tears his eyes away to look at the floor. “Um.” He swallows. “Okay.” He says slowly, a bit dizzy from the drinks. He moves out of the doorway and gestures, inviting her into the room. Jester leads him over to sit down on the bed and takes his hands in hers.

“Will you come back downstairs with me?” She asks after they sit for a little while. “I’ll buy you a drink, and we can get some water?” She giggles, rubbing her thumb over his hands.

Caleb groans out a bit of a whine, letting his head fall back. “Verdammt- I don’t think I should..” He sighs.

“Come onnnnnnn.” Jester sing-songs, trying her best to tease but encourage. “Or I can try convincing you some other way, hmm?”

Caleb pulls his hands out of her grasp and wraps them around himself. “Heh, nooo-”

Jester wiggles her fingers at him and Caleb lets out a crackle of a laugh. “Come on, Caleb. Come with me.” She says as dramatically as possible. She starts poking at a few spots along his middle that he tries to protect but keeps up with very poorly. They’re both giggling within a few seconds.

“Okay, okahay. Fine.” Caleb pushes at her shoulder. “Let’s go.”

“Yay!” Jester claps her hands together and stands with a little jump. Then, she leads him back out of the room and down to their friends.

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forsaire · 10 months

Text

Good with your hands (Soap x Ghost)

Soap injuries his knee on a mission. Ghost shows him a new technique that might make it feel better.

Excerpt of Chapter 10 of Don't Let Me Go on ao3

(wordcount: 1286)

The 141 returned back to their Austrian homebase in the early morning, their bodies exhausted and physically wracked with tension. As soon their helicopters landed, Price immediately pulled Valeria aside to speak with her privately in order to get a gage on whether or not she could be trusted.

It also temporarily avoided a Valeria/Alejandro blow up that definitely would not be helpful at the moment.

After the men took some time to clean themselves up, Ghost knew he wasn’t going to be able to get to sleep again for some time. The intrigue of the situation gnawed at the back of his mind, demanding answers or resolution.

Ghost didn’t know how long this interview – or interrogation – with Price was going to last, so he decided to walk around the base. His feet kept moving on their own until he came upon a relatively secluded spot outside for him to sit down on. As he rested his back against the brick of the building, he took a moment to enjoy he warm breeze that lightly shook the leaves in the trees and watched the sun slowly start to rise.

He should have expected to be alone for only ten minutes.

“Ah, there you are Ghost,” Soap’s voice rang out from the side.

“You’re always finding me…” Ghost mumbled, keeping his eyes locked on the sunrise in the distance. He wasn’t really annoyed at Soap but spoke in a more observational sense.

“Trust me, Ghost. If you didn’t want to want to be found, I have no doubt in my mind that you wouldn’t be found,” Soap said with light humour. As Soap walked over, Ghost glanced at him just in time to catch his last few steps. Ghost instantly noticed an uneven hop to his step.

“You’re limping,” Ghost stated.

“Aye,” Soap said favouring one of his knees to crouch down with a quiet grunt. He sat against the wall next to Ghost and extended his legs out in front of him, a plastic water bottle in one of his hands. “Just got back from the nurses’ station. They gave me something for the pain. I asked for only the good stuff,” he beamed.

Ghost tried to recall when this injury happened. When it could have happened. He hadn’t noticed any limp while on the mission so it must have occurred after. Then again, maybe it was there during the assault but he was too oblivious to see. Regardless, Ghost should have known.

“When did this happen?” Ghost asked, an air of confusion to his voice.

“When I dropped down from the line,” Soap answered plainly as he rubbed small circles into the side of his right knee.

“Why wasn’t I aware of this?”

Ghost began questioning whether he had missed observing other crucial details while on the mission. It wasn’t like him to miss something so large.

“Because I purposefully hid it,” Soap said matter-of-factly. Soap caught Ghost’s eye and seemed to pick up on his internal doubt. “It’s reasonable to not know something if I don’t tell you.”

“I should be aware of everything that’s happening to the soldiers in my charge.”

“It’s human not to…” Soap sighed and looked out toward the sunrise. “Which is still something that you are,” he finished quietly, almost to himself.

Ghost didn’t respond. Those words were far from what he would use to describe himself. To a certain extent, he thought everyone who did this job had to leave that part of themselves at the door.

“And anyway,” Soap said with a lighter tone to his voice again, “it’s not that the landing was especially bad. My knee was just tweaked from an old injury that occasionally acts up every now and then. Seems like it never healed right.” He was still absentmindedly rubbing small circles into the side of his knee using the tips of his fingers.

“Have you tried the knuckle technique?” Ghost asked before he could stop himself.

“The what?” Soap asked, looking at him with a furrowed brow.

Knowing his words wouldn’t be able to explain it well enough, Ghost reached over and gently felt around Soap’s knee for the bones and tendons. Soap watched him carefully, but otherwise didn’t protest. Having located the edge of Soap’s kneecap under his pants, Ghost balled his hands up into a semi-closed fist.

He pressed his knuckles between the second and third joints of his fingers deeply into the tendon just below the patella, keeping a firm pressure as he slowly dragged them upwards around the curve of the kneecap.

Soap involuntarily lurched forward and sucked in a quick breath. A second later, he melted into the touch as he rested his head back up against the brick wall, a blissful expression on his face.

Ghost repeated the motion a few more times.

“Oh, fuck…” Soap breathed out, arching his back slightly. The words tumbled out of his mouth, sounding desperate and half-close to a moan.

Upon hearing this, Ghost flicked his eyes up to glance up Soap. Soap was looking at him through half-lidded eyes which were filled with absolute trust and pleasure. There was also something else in his eyes that Ghost was having trouble pinpointing exactly.

Ghost couldn’t remember the last time someone had looked at him like that. Coupled with Soap’s choked out cry still ringing in his ears, Ghost started to notice an unexpected feeling growing in the pit of his stomach.

Quickly, Ghost removed his hands and sat back, trying to calm his racing heart. Soap let out a content exhale and gingerly bent his leg a few times. He shook his head and softly chuckled under his breath.

“Of course. First the Rubik’s cube, then the cranes, now this.” Soap looked at him pointedly, the warmth of his eyes making Ghost hesitantly glance over. “You’re really good with your hands, Lt.”

Ghost turned his head away from Soap’s intense stare. He awkwardly scratched at his leg and tried to bring back the moisture in his mouth which had suddenly gone dry. He had a primal urge to drink something all of a sudden.

Seemingly also thirsty, Ghost watched out of the corner or his eye as Soap unscrewed the cap on his water. A gentle touch to Ghost’s knee caught his full attention. He looked down to see the plastic cap of the bottle had been placed on his leg. He squinted at it and looked up at Soap in silent judgment.

“I don’t want to put it on the dirty ground,” Soap explained casually, taking a swig from the bottle.

“You have another hand,” Ghost said dryly.

“Don’t berate me, I’m injured.”

“Barely.”

Soap held out the water bottle for Ghost to have some which he accepted greedily. Ghost turned his head to the other side and pulled his mask up over his mouth. He put his lips up to the drink and felt the cool water seep into his mouth, giving him immediate relief. He swallowed, feeling the incessant urge for water slowly begin to creep away.

Ghost handed the bottle back and Soap picked up the cap to screw it shut. The two of them settled into comfortable silence watching the sunrise together. Ghost was comfortable with not always filling the silence with noise, but with Soap it felt even easier. This was surprising considering how much Soap liked to talk.

After a few minutes, Soap let out a yawn just as his phone chimed in his pocket. He pulled it out and scanned the message.

“Price is done with Valeria. He’s calling us in.”

“Do you think she can be trusted?” Ghost asked. Soap blinked a few times in thought. “I guess we’ll find out.”

Read on ao3.

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vikingmagic33 · 11 months

Text

A little meet-cute in the garden leads Elain to visit Gwyn in the library. Here is the first installment for a Gwynlain fic for the ACOTAR Writing Circle 3. @azrielshadowssing which happens to coincide beautifully with @gwynweekofficial and pride.

Read on AO3 here!

~•~~•~~•~~•~~•~~•~~•~~•~~•~~•~~•~~•~~•~~•~~•~~•~~•~~•~

Gwyn raced up the darkened stairwell, before spilling out of the doorway and into the rooftop’s blistering sun. She squinted up at Rhysand. He chucked down affectionately at her disheveled appearance. “You’re late,” Rhys stated with mock annoyance.

The sun was making its descent and baked the clay roof in a crackling glow. Gwyn caught sight of steam and her vision of the horizon beyond blurred through pockets of sweltering air. She gulped it down and savored freedom on her tongue.

“Let me guess.” Rhys continued. “Merrill has concocted some new form of torture?”

“Nothing new about it.” Gwyn smoothed the folds of her robes and gave him an impertinent stare.

“But still torture.” He looked immediately concerned. “I can speak to...”

“I’m fine, Rhys.” Gwyn blurted. “I’ve told you that a million times already. I’m fine. I can deal with Merrill. Shall we?”

She reached for his arm without waiting for his response. Rhys reached down to gather her to his side, as wings appeared, and he pushed up once in a massive boost just beyond the wards. The force of the push caused her sandals to slip. She heard them drop against the roof mere seconds before he’d winnowed them away.

The first thing Gwyn noticed was the feel of a slightly damp lawn under her feet. The River House was close enough to the water that even on a hot day, spray from the river kept the gardens dewy and fresh. She drew up her hem only slightly to peer down as her toes wiggled. Emerie had painted them a perfect robin’s egg blue at a book club sleepover the night before and Gwyn relished the look against the green and soaked the silkiness through the soles of her feet.

Rhys had asked that she give regular reports on life within the library. Clotho was technically the correct chain of command, but Rhys had expressed an interest in speaking informally on morale and their general quality of life. Gwyn had been happy to oblige. She had a list tucked into a pocket of her robes and she respected his concern. They had been meeting regularly for months, but that was the first meeting since Rhys had suggested they move them to the River House and expand their discussion to include the new Valkyrie training program.

“You’re getting positively tan, Gwynnie.” Cassian’s bark boomed from the back steps and Gwyn’s gaze lifted from her feet to her friend’s face. “I think you’ve got twice as many freckles as you did when I first met you.” He chuckled before reaching up to tweak the end of her nose. Nesta swatted his hand and Gwyn rubbed her palm over the spot dramatically, but still managed to stick out her tongue when nobody was looking.

She hadn’t seen the pair on the roof, so they must have arrived sometime earlier. From the state of Nesta’s hair, they could have been flying. Then again, there was no telling what else could have tangled it so much. Gwyn eyed her friend’s appearance and lifted a brow. Nesta just shrugged. Not flying then. Gwyn grinned. She was happy for Nesta.

“I could give you a hat.” Gwyn spun at the sound of a feminine voice behind her in the flowers and found Elain kneeling in the garden. Elain set aside a pair of shears and slowly rose to her feet, careful not to touch her dress with her filthy gloves. “Not to say that freckles aren’t very pretty. Just… if you wanted a hat, I do have plenty. I could spare a few for you. If you’d like.”

Gwyn’s gaze traveled up to Elain’s wide-brimmed, straw hat. It had an elaborate ribbon tied just beneath her chin. The absurdity of the offer was simply adorable. Gwyn couldn’t train in a floppy garden hat, but sincerity and perhaps nerves were clear in Elain’s voice, so Gwyn did not scoff.

“Thank you, Elain,” Gwyn replied gently. “But I can’t see that I would have any use for such a thing in the library or in the training ring.” She noticed Rhys and Cassian disappearing through the kitchen door, but Nesta waited for Gwyn.

“But surely elsewhere...” Elain studied Gwyn’s face as though she was being asked to state the obvious.

Gwyn’s heart lurched and her face must have fallen. She saw confusion bloom in Elain’s eyes and again her heart softened. Elain wasn’t criticizing her. To hear Nesta tell it, Elain didn’t travel very far herself, but at least she could venture into Velaris unaccompanied. Nesta stepped forward and started to speak, but Gwyn stepped between the two.

“We don’t get much light in the library.” Gwyn chided herself for her choice of words. She felt heat creep up her neck. She sounded like a moron or some sort of neglected houseplant.

Elain was positively glowing, standing there, in her immaculate garden and she wasn’t actually wrong. Gwyn should be going more places. Gwyn should have need of a hat.

“None at all?” Elain stepped forward and wiped at her brow with the back of one delicate wrist. All she managed to accomplish was to trap one dark blond curl into the dampness at her temple and Gwyn hid a smile. “How can anything hope to thrive in utter darkness?” Elain sounded ready to picket.

“They do have candles, Elain.” Nesta sounded cross and Gwyn waved her off. She didn’t want to be the source of strife between the sisters. There had been plenty of that in the past and things were just starting to settle.

“Not everything needs to be baked in the sun, Elain. We are the Night Court, are we not? Night can be beautiful too.” Gwyn practically purred. She was shocked by the tone in her own voice. Where had that come from?

“I guess so.” Elain huffed a breath distractedly at that pesky curl, but it did not budge.

“Here. Let me help you out.” Gwyn reached over and tugged the curl free. “Better?”

“Thank you, Gwyneth.” Elain breathed her laughter. “I’m a mess.”

“Nothing wrong with a bit of sweat,” Gwyn added, froze, and tried to pivot. “You’ve been hard at work.” Gwyn pointed awkwardly to an impressive pile of rose branches discarded near Elain’s very organized workstation. It was a folded towel for her knees and a bucket of what appeared to be bonemeal. Gwyn had been impressed to hear she recycled them from kitchen scraps. “We should let you get back to it.”

Elain nodded. “Always nice to see you, Gwyneth.”

“You too, Elain.” Gwyn took Nesta’s arm and aimed for the house. Nesta narrowed her eyes.

“What was that?” Nesta hissed.

“I have no idea.” Gwyn lied. She did have an idea. In fact, she had several.

“You were flirting with my sister.” Nesta accused with a hungry smile.

“I was doing no such thing!” Gwyn denied with a pout. “I was just being nice. Can’t I be nice?”

“Liar,” Nesta growled under her breath. “You’re never that nice to me.”

“Well. You’ve never offered me a hat.” Gwyn hid her blush by rushing forward into the house.

~•~~•~~•~~•~~•~~•~~•~~•~~•~~•~~•~~•~~•~~•~~•~~•~~•~~•~

Elain made her way quietly down the dimly lit hall. She wasn’t sure why she’d felt the need to sneak, assuming that was even a fair description of her behavior. But it always felt like she was sneaking around the River House or the grounds or even into Valeris. The last, she liked to consider more exploration, even if she would bet all of her allowance that her sisters would scoff at that characterization.

Rhys could be counted upon to be visiting Feyre’s art studio in the Rainbow on most afternoons and she’d timed her trek upstairs accordingly. Elain had no interest in dealing with the High Lord. Honestly, she had no interest in interacting with anyone, save perhaps the twins.

It wasn’t that she disliked her sisters. She didn’t even dislike the families that both had chosen for themselves, not objectively at least. But the twins didn’t avert their gazes too quickly, nor did they let them linger with confusion, when Elain’s comments or behaviors were inevitably deemed uncouth or to be based on some outdated human mindset that Elain had yet to identify and sufficiently weed out. Worse were the moments when time skipped and snagged when a vision nudged or whispered and Elain simply fell behind in conversations or trailed off in the middle of speaking.

Elain was not some shy or shrinking violet, nor was she a masochist. Solitude was just simpler and she found she liked people more when they said less and when she didn’t have to see them.

She didn’t usually find herself in his library. Libraries in general were foreign and unknown. Visits were not something that her late mother encouraged and familiarity hadn’t been possible in their new lives after her death.

Elain needed information though, so she tapped lightly on the door. She sighed happily at the lack of response and turned the ornate knob. Elain pressed her shoulder against his heavy door as it swung gently into the darkness of the room beyond. Need was perhaps a strong word. Elain wanted information. The idea of a gift had bloomed in her mind and she couldn’t seem to shake it. She didn’t want to shake it.

Ultimately, the library trip had been an utter waste of her time. It had actually taken three trips into Velaris, a visit with a local botanist, and the aid of a rather talented glass blower. Finally, she found herself standing with an awkwardly large box in her arms, asking Rhys for transport to the House of Wind and his permission to visit the library below.

“Sure.” He dusted toast crumbs from the corner of his mouth. “I’m going up there anyway. I will take the box for you.” Rhys responded absently. Had he even noticed that it wasn’t what she’d requested from him at all?

“I’d rather deliver them myself. Thank you though.” Elain responded as Feyre peeked over the edge of the box at the greenery within. “There are care instructions and all.” Elain shrugged and adjusted the box in her arms with the help of one knee. “If you could just let this Clotho person know that I will be visiting within the library today, you can just drop me at the entrance. I believe there is one somewhere on the roof?”

Feyre’s head shot up before she offered with a glint of curiosity in her eye, “I can take you.”

No way. Not a chance. Elain shook her head.

“Rhys just said he was going anyway. Did he not?”

There was some comfort in knowing that Rhysand didn’t understand her and had no interest in figuring her out. It was neglect masquerading as privacy and she offered back resentment passing for respect.

“It is done.” Rhys tapped his temple with one finger as he took one last bite of toast and rose from the table. He bent to plant a kiss on his son’s head and one on his mate’s cheek before heading for the door.

Clotho had been polite and accommodating and Gwyn turned out to be fairly easy to find.

“This one is called Bird's Nest.” Elain pointed to the first plant. “They call this one a snake plant, but I’m not sure why. The spider plant makes a little more sense when you see the little baby plants that sort of shoot off as it grows.”

“That sounds like quite the kerfuffle.” Gwyn beamed and her laughter washed over Elain. She was happy. The gift had been a good idea after all. “I’d better keep my eye on these and make sure they all stay in line.”

“Yes. Well.” Elain blushed. “And this one, it’s a bromeliad. No silly name. It even blooms without any sun. None need sun. Although they will thank you for these little bauble lights I got in town. The shop owner assured me that they mimic low sunlight.”

“Are these for light too?” Gwyn peered from across the box and reached a hand underneath for support. Their fingers brushed slightly and Elain’s pulse raced.

“Oh, no. Those are for water.” Elain tried again to adjust her hold on the box and the whole thing nearly toppled despite being trapped between their chests. Elain managed to grab hold of a colorful orb on a long glass stem. “You fill these with water and then stick them into the dirt. They will help with watering.”

“Thank you.” Gwyn smiled and Elain was nervous at the sheen in Gwyn’s eyes.

“This one is poisonous to cats.” Elain blurted. “You don’t have a cat do you?”

“Sometimes I think we might, but if he’s going to prowl around here nibbling on my plants, then he deserves a bit of mischief. Don’t you think?”

“He? If you’re not sure that there is a cat, how do you know it is male?” Elain asked, genuinely amused.

“A girl cat would know better than to eat strange plants and probably would’ve made some friends by now. At least, with the kitchen staff.” They were talking nonsense and Elain was blissfully happy.

“So.” Elain had no idea what to say next. “I’ll just give these to you.” Elain aimed for subtle, but managed to shove the box at Gwyn.

“Oh, no, you don’t.” Gwyn stepped away, hands raised. “You can carry them down and help me place them around my reading nook.” She turned toward the stairs. “And I hope you mean to visit them.”

“Pardon?” Elain squeaked.

“You can’t just give a girl a basket of living things and some vague instructions and expect them to survive.” Gwyn chided and Elain was fairly sure she was teasing her.

“Box,” Elain mumbled.

“Pardon?” There was definite teasing in Gwyn’s voice as she mimicked Elain’s earlier nerves. Elain blushed, though not unpleasantly, she noticed.

“It’s a box, not a basket.” Elain clarified and Gwyn chuckled. Warmth bloomed in Elain’s chest.

“If any of the other priestesses should want...”

“They can keep their mitts off my ferns.” Gwyn yanked the box possessively to her chest then.

“Bromeliad.” Elain corrected.

“See,” Gwyn called over her shoulder as she continued down the stairs. “I’m in over my head already. You simply must save me, Elain.” Perhaps they were both in over their heads, but for the first time that she could remember, Elain didn’t mind at all.

#ACOTAR writing circle 3 #gwyneth berdara #elain archeron #gwynlain #dual pov #pro gwyn #pro elain #my kind of why pick #crush #lesbian pride #best friend’s sister #sister’s best friend #idiots to lovers #two versions of rhys #acosf #ACOTAR #acotarwritingcircle #acotar writing circle

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iheartpapipascal · 1 year

Text

Dangerous Statement

Pairing: Jack Daniels x f!reader

Rating: 18+ MINORS DNI!!!

Summary: reader has bad sex the night before, so her roommate helps her out. Basically smut with a little plot beforehand and a tiny bit of fluff after (because I can't resist). Also, the reader isn't aware of Jack's occupation in this fic, just a heads-up.

Warnings: language, mentions of alcohol, nippleplay, oral sex (f! receiving), fingering, unprotected p in v (wrap it up, yall), small praise kink, softdom!jack (blink and you'll miss it I'm serious), creampie, fluff, no use of Y/N. If I missed anything, please let me know in the comments!

Word Count: 3.6k

A/N: I really liked writing this, and I hope yall like it too. If you have any suggestions for future fics, just let me know :) also, if anyone knows how to make your posts say the "see more" thing, I would really appreciate it😭 I'm tired of scrolling all the way through a fic just to get to my other posts lmao.

Enjoy!

Edit: had to tweak a few things today, it was really late when I posted this last night and I forgot to add some stuff. Now enjoy (for real this time).

You yawn as you lumber into the kitchen, rubbing sleep from your eyes. Still making yourself aware of your surroundings, you spot the coffee machine on the counter and walk over to pour yourself a cup.

"Mornin'."

The smooth southern drawl of his voice abruptly cuts into the silence of the apartment, making you jump. You turn around, sipping on the hot, bitter liquid to face him.

"Jack? I thought you weren't supposed to be back for about a week."

He sits at the small two-seater dining table with a newspaper in hand and his beloved Stetson on the surface beside him.

"Well, I wasn't, but once we landed in Dallas, my boss musta' had the sudden realization that he overcompensated for the amount of work that needed to be done, so I was uh, sent home early."

You blink as you take in the slightly annoyed tone of his voice, the way his brows furrow as he talks, and the way his eyes glide over the page he's focused on.

"Oh."

You never really asked about his job, but you knew he was pretty secretive about it and that it kept him away often.

You pause and take a swig of your coffee.

"Hey, Jack, when'd you get in?"

Shit. Please say he got here this morning. Early this morning, too tired to even shower, please say that. Please say he didn't hear anything. Please, please, pl-

"Pretty late last night, but apparently not late enough. Boy, it sounded like you were havin' fun," he snickers as he turns the page.

Shit indeed.

"I don't know what you mean," you say, playing dumb, but he sees right through you.

"Oh come on, sweetheart," he drawls, tearing his eyes away from the paper and looking up at you through dark lashes, "You weren't exactly quiet."

"You think maybe," you scoff under your breath, giving up the useless facade, "That was the point?"

You couldn't hide the disappointment in your voice. And you were disappointed. You had high hopes for the man you had met the night before. He had seen you from across the bar and bought you a drink. He came over a minute later and cracked a cheesy pickup line. Despite your groans, the alcohol already in your system made you easy to laugh, and you invited him to have a seat. He was kind, funny, moderately handsome, and when he touched your leg after a joke, it gave you goosebumps. Yes, he was all this, and somehow, completely horrible in bed.

Jack chuckles. "So you were fakin'?"

"Yeah, nothing new though, if I'm being honest. Seems like all men have the same goal: get off and get out."

He looks back down at the newspaper. "Well that's quite a statement."

"So you're saying it's not true then?" You bring the mug to your lips, awaiting his answer.

He shrugs. "In my personal experience, no. A woman never leaves my bed unsatisfied."

You scoff lightly. "Well aren't you special?"

"It's true, sugar," He looks back up at you. "You wouldn't."

You look at him with wide eyes, silent at the suggestion that's clearly a joke. Clearly. Right?

"Hey, you there?" His voice snaps you out of your thoughts and back to the present.

"Jack, what do you mean by that?"

"By what, sweetheart?"

"By saying that I wouldn't."

You lock his eyes with yours, daring him to say the words again. He looks at ease, like he's enjoying this, even. He clears his throat.

"What I mean by that, is that if you had sex with me, darlin', those moans wouldn't be fake."

You stare at him, cheeks heating up, even more dumbfounded by these words than the last. This side of him wasn't relatively unseen, though. He was always flirtatious with you, and sometimes you even returned those words jokingly. He made it easy enough, being hot as hell, but he was your roommate. You had deemed him off limits on day one.

"Is that an offer?" You tease, trying to salvage your dignity.

He closes the newspaper and stands up, smirking. "I don't know, is it?"

You look at him as he walks towards you, still trying to wrap your mind around his words. The only viable explanation for this is that he's messing with you.

"You're kidding, right?"

"I don't know, am I?"

"For God's sake, Daniels, just answer the damn question," You say in exasperation. "It's too early in the morning for riddles."

He closes the space between you, his eyes locked onto yours.

"I think I've made my intentions pretty clear, darlin'."

You're looking up at him now, so close he can probably hear your heart trying to jump out of your chest. Your eyes take all of him in, your gaze lingering first on his warm brown eyes, the shape of his beautiful aquiline nose, then the pout of his lips. You can make out his familiar scent of whiskey, caramel, and spicy hints of cinnamon. You make one last feeble attempt to deny what you want. What you need.

"Jack, I don't know...." Your words almost get caught in your throat as you continue to take in his presence so close to you. "I don't know if this is a good idea."

He smiles as he takes the mug out of your hands and sets it gently on the counter.

"Let me help you make up your mind."

Your eyes lock on his as he cups one side of your face with his hand. And then he's kissing you. His lips touch yours and suddenly you feel a longing for him that you hadn't known was there. Your eyes flutter closed as you savor the kiss, tender but firm. He tastes both spicy and sweet, and you feel as if you can't get enough. His lips linger on yours for a moment before he lets them separate and presses his forehead to yours.

"Just say the word and I'll stop." His words break the silence the kiss fills and your eyes open to look at him. You take in the situation for a moment. You pushed up against the counter, this close to him. Your bodies feel as if they were made to be pressed together like this. Fuck it, you decide. You reach up to grab the collar of his shirt and pull him back toward you. The kiss is rougher this time, more needy from the both of you. Your hands find his hair and run through his dark locks, looking for anything to grab onto.

He softly grips your waist with his free hand and takes his lips away from yours. You would protest at the absence if he wasn't moving his mouth lower to your chin, down your jaw, and then finally making you gasp as he hits a spot on your neck that sends sparks all through your body and heats up the place between your legs. He lets his hand fall from your face to make its way around your waist, then lets the other one go lower to snake its way around your upper thigh. In one swift motion, he picks you up and sets you gently on the counter, still kissing you hungrily.

His hands seem to have a mind of their own, moving to touch every part of you that they can at once, though still never enough. They move across your legs, your waist, and up your shirt, each spot they desert replaced with a feeling of need for his touch. Your eyes are closed and your mouth is open in a soft 'oh' as he moves his lips from your neck to your sternum, your hands still playing with his hair.

He lightly touches the fabric of your shirt and pulls his lips away from your skin to look at you again, both of you breathing in unison.

"This shirt needs to come off, sweetheart."

The words weren't a statement, but a question. One last chance for you to stop this before it goes too far. He slowly bunches up the fabric at each side of your shirt as he awaits your answer. You give him a single slow nod, telling him to go ahead. He nods back as he carefully lifts the shirt up over your head and tosses it on the floor.

Normally, when he was home, you would wear a sports bra under your shirt to bed, something to cover your chest. You had grown up uncomfortable with the idea of anyone seeing too much, and that notion stuck with you into adulthood. But due to him not being there for the past few days, you had freed yourself from that restraint.

"Shorts, too."

He plays at the waistband of your shorts as you adjust to allow him to pull them off and throw them haphazardly next to your shirt.

You look at his face for any type of reaction, waiting for him to say or do something, anything, as he just stares at you for a moment. Stares at your bare breasts, the way they shape a deep 'V' into your chest. The black lace panties you're still wearing from preparation for the night before. He stares at you in awe of what he deems perfection.

He brings his hand to your stomach, slowly moving it upward to cup your breast, his thumb moving circles around the bud of your nipple. The stimulation gives you chills as he kisses you again. He starts to move down like before, but doesn't stop at your collarbone. Instead, he goes further to your other breast, kissing and licking at your other nipple as he looks up at your reaction. Your eyes are closed in concentration, trying to savor the moment.

After a minute, he stands up and guides your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist. He makes out with you ravenously as he picks you up, carrying you across the apartment and to the couch. He brings both of you down onto it, him on top of you as your legs untangle themselves from around him. He sits up for a moment, taking off his T-shirt to reveal his bare chest, then goes back to touch your lips with his. One hand is in your hair, the other making its way down your body, finally settling on the fabric of your panties.

His fingers rub small circles around your sensitive spot through the fabric, making you squirm. He smiles against your lips as he takes in the small sounds you make against his. He drags his mouth down your body as he continues to play with your clit, enjoying every reaction he can draw from you with just his hands.

"Fuck, sweetheart. So wet for me already, hm? You want these fingers inside you, sugar?" He says, his mouth down by your entrance, placing small kisses around the area and sending jolts through your body with each one. Not able to wait, he pushes the lace aside as he licks a stripe up your pussy, making you moan softly. You cover your mouth, embarrassed to be making noises this early.

"Yeah, just like that darlin'. Keep makin' sounds just like that for me." He reaches up to grab your wrist to remove it from your mouth and pin it to your side. He continues to tease your clit with his tongue as your body begs for him and your mouth does the same. He finally lets his tongue enter you, looking up at you as he chuckles at your reaction.

You moan and continue to writhe under the influence of his tongue as he uses his forearm to pin you to the couch.

"Shhh, sweetheart. Stop movin'....just relax. Stop squirmin' or I'll stop. Understand?" He says, clearly enjoying the way you're trying to control yourself.

"Mm-hm." You nod, unable to form coherent words and try to focus on following his directions. You try, but you're falling apart at the seams with the way his tongue is massaging your pussy. With the way his mustache is rubbing against your clit, creating friction and blinding all your senses with pleasure. He takes your legs and throws them over his shoulders, then enters you with his fingers. Fingers much bigger and and longer than your own.

He curls them inward, repeatedly hitting a spot that makes you see stars. You moan loud as he continues to eat you out and finger you at the same time, stimulating and bringing you to the brink of an orgasm.

"Jack, please," You beg between moans, finally finding the words, "I need more."

He laughs as he meets your request, curling his fingers even deeper inside you and sucking your clit, sending you over the edge. You wrap your legs around his neck and cry out his name louder than ever as you come, closing your eyes as white-hot pleasure courses through you. You buck your hips against him as he helps you ride out your high until it becomes too much for you to handle. He cleans you up with his tongue, lapping up your orgasm and making you shudder with every touch placed on your overstimulated area.

Then, he pulls you up into a sitting position, now at eye level with you. He brings his fingers to your lips, letting you taste yourself on him. It's unlike anything you'd ever experienced before, and you allow yourself to enjoy it, looking into his eyes as you lick every bit of your juices off of him, coming off his fingers with a soft pop. With your legs now together, he's able to pull off the useless panties separating your pussy from him in a single quick motion and let them drop to the floor. He stands up and unbuttons his jeans, dropping and stepping out of them. From your sitting position, your eyes are level with his boxers, and he gives a low hiss as you palm him through the thin cotton with your hand.

"These need to come off, sweetheart." You look up at him, feigning innocence as your hand continues to tease him. You tug at the waistband with both hands and pull them down, eyes widening as you take in the sight of his cock.

Oh, fuck. Of course he's big.

Your reaction is subtle but apparently not invisible, because he laughs softly and lifts your chin to look at him in the face.

"You can take it darlin', you'll be fine. Promise."

You quickly regain your composure and nod as he strokes himself a few times, trying to relieve some of the tension in him. Then, he takes your hands and helps you off the couch, kissing you as he turns you both around and sits. He pulls down so you're straddling him, your hands running through his hair as he lines himself up with your entrance.

He stops kissing to look at you and you do the same. He nods in encouragement as you prepare yourself. You start to move down and pause as the tip stretches your entrance. "Fuck," you mumble, and stay there for a second. He's not moving, letting you go at your own pace, and you're instantly thankful. You close your eyes and brace yourself as you lower onto him. You let out a soft gasp and hold onto him tighter as you put his full length inside you. He's painfully big and you stay there for a second, getting used to him. You're positive you wouldn't be able to do this if you weren't already wet from your previous orgasm.

When you feel ready, you start to ride him slowly, still trying to get comfortable. There's still a stinging sensation that comes with each downward motion, but you start to welcome it as pleasure begins to creep its way into the existing pain. After some time, the pain completely subsides and you're left with just desire for more of him. You start to pick up the pace and he notices, both hands on your hips to help guide you onto his cock. You open your eyes to look at him, letting out soft moans as he talks you through it.

"That's it, sweetheart, you're doin' amazing. Look at me, just keep your eyes on me."

Your legs begin to shake as you continue to move up and down, still somehow not enough to get you where you're going just yet.

"Jack. Faster. Please go faster," you whine, barely getting the sentence out. And just like that, you're begging just like you did earlier. With a rushed breath, you choke out the one word that will make him give you what you need.

"More."

Your pleas are hushed and quick, but he understands them. He starts to thrust up into you, his hands gripping your waist hard, no doubt leaving marks. He brings you down onto him with such force that he bottoms out, making you moan loudly. He does this over and over, and with each of his thrusts you melt into him, clinging onto him for support. Your cries for him become louder as he continues, until you swear your neighbors can hear you in the next apartment over.

"Fuck, sugar, keep goin' just like that. Good girl, just keep sayin' my name. So fuckin' pretty when you do that."

His words are low and barely heard over your screams, but they push you further nonetheless. You can tell he's close, but you can also tell there's no way in hell he's about to let himself come before you. He swears as he pounds into you from below, holding you steady as you ride him. The final motion that threatens to send you over the edge is when he brings his index and middle finger up to his tongue then back down to your clit, rubbing it in small, controlled circles. You try to close your eyes but he grabs your chin and makes you face him.

"Look at me darlin'. I want to see those pretty eyes on mine when I make you come." You look at him as best you can and try to focus on his eyes as he keeps his relentless pace, drawing out cries of pleasure from your lips. Then finally, without much warning, the coil tightening in your core snaps, sending waves of ecstasy through your body. Your eyes are still trained on him as he continues to fuck you, each motion making your muscles clench onto him and sending blinding pleasure to every last part of you. You put your head in the indent of his shoulder as you grip onto him for support, the reality of the situation coming back to you as your orgasm wears off. He continues to fuck into you, chasing his own high while whispering praises in your ear. After a few thrusts, his breathing increases and the sound of his voice interrupts your thoughts.

"Where do you want it, sugar?" He asks, his words strained as he tries to maintain his pace. Your face leaves his shoulder and you sit up to look at him.

"Inside."

That's all he needs to hear. He leans his head back against the couch, low groans escaping his mouth. Some seconds later, you feel his warm orgasm enter you, filling you up, and its unlike any sensation you'd ever felt before. You cant help the smile creeping onto your face. It'd always been a kink you wanted to explore, but during previous sessions with other men it had never felt right to ask when the time came. With Jack, though, you don't feel any hesitation to ask for what you want. It's freeing and you know instantly that you would be comfortable telling him even your deepest desires.

He slows his pace to a stop as you rest, still on him. He brings his hand up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear as he looks at you, searching your face for any signs of discomfort. He carefully guides you off of him then helps you sit down on the couch. He stands up then turns to face you. You have a look of confusion on your face and start to protest before he stops you.

"Don't move, alright? I'll be back in a sec."

You wait on the couch as he goes into the bathroom. He comes back after a minute, a wet washcloth in hand. He carefully cleans you up, chuckling as you shudder when the cloth touches a sensitive spot on your body. When he's done, he tosses it onto the floor beside his clothes. He sits on the couch beside you, then gingerly brings you both down into a laying position, one arm cradling your head, the other wrapped around you, pulling you close to him. He brings his lips to yours, kissing you tenderly before moving up to kiss the tip of your nose, then finally your forehead. He lets himself linger there for a second and you close your eyes, savoring the moment. You bring your hand up to touch his cheek, a small smile spreading across your face.

"So, were they fake?", he asks after a minute, laughing softly. You pretend to swat at him with your hand.

"Shut up." You say, laughing with him.

"Hey," he continues, caressing your back with his hand and still snickering, "you didn't say yes."

"Didnt say no, either." You continue, your head finding its favorite spot in the crook of his shoulder. His next words are missed as you doze off with him holding you, feeling as if you could stay there forever in his arms.

#jack daniels x female reader #jack daniels x reader #jack daniels x f!reader #jack daniels smut #agent whiskey #agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey x female reader #agent whiskey x f!reader #agent whiskey smut #fanfic #kingsman the golden circle #pedro pascal

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brattyprettysub2 · 9 days

Text

Skin Care Routine

All characters in this piece of fiction are role-playing adults.

"I swear they're getting bigger," she says. "Look. Look. You're not looking."

He sighs and finally looks up from his book, peering at her over the top of his reading glasses. "What's getting bigger?" he says.

He never listens. "My breasts," she says. There was a time that if she was topless in bed and rubbing moisturizer into her chest, he would have been all over her -- but now, she can see his gaze already drifting back to the page he has bookmarked with a finger. "Look," she says, twisting to face him. "They're bigger."

"No, they're not," he says, and he doesn't say it like he doesn't believe it. That would be bad enough, but he says it like he's bored. Like he's heard this all before and he's tired of reassuring her. She blinks at him, hurt, and his expression softens just the tiniest bit. "Honey," he says. "Come on. Is it -- I don't know, your period?"

Her breasts often do feel heavier when her period is due, but she shakes her head. "It's not like that," she says. "It's -- they're never like this. I've gone up a cup size, at least."

"No, you haven't." He looks annoyed now, his book fallen shut in his lap. "Do you want attention, is that it? Is this --" His brow creases and he looks almost disgusted. "Are you trying to seduce me?"

"No!" she says. She turns away from him, burning with embarrassment, and grabs her sleep T-shirt and pulls it over her head as quickly as she can. It's one of his old ones and it used to hang off her, a few sizes too big, but now it stretches over her chest -- but she's not going to make him look at that now. She curls up on her side, facing away from him. There's some moisturizer left on her hands and she wipes it on her thighs.

He sighs and shifts in the bed. "I love you," he says. "You look great."

That's not how he used to say it. He used to say it with his hands all over her. They were late to so many dinner reservations because she'd get all dressed up and he wouldn't be able to keep himself from pulling all her clothes off. He used to fuck her in their entrance hall, her back pinned against the wall, her legs wrapped around his hips, his teeth on her throat.

"Thanks," she says. "I'm sure it's nothing."

"You didn't tell me it would work so fast," he says on the phone later, standing on the balcony outside their bedroom. The spring air is chilly and he pulls his dressing gown tighter around himself. The embers of his cigarette glow in the dark and he inhales deeply. She doesn't know about these little smoke breaks, thinks that he gave up his midnight cigarette years ago. Sometimes, he thinks about putting it out on her breasts -- only lately, the fantasies have changed from stubbing it out on the tight buds of her small breasts to burning marks on udders that sag under their own weight, drooping down her chest.

His friend on the other end of the call laughs. "Neat, isn't it? I was seeing a girl who was fucking useless at remembering to moisturize. That was a pain, I had to keep reminding her. But Jeanie's pretty diligent, isn't she?"

"She is," he says. "Every night and every morning." He takes another drag. "She's freaking out. It took everything I had not to laugh." He pitches his voice in a falsetto, a mocking imitation of his wife. "They're bigger, aren't they? She was complaining this morning that none of her bras fit right."

"Wait 'til you see how sensitive she gets," his friend says. "In a day or two, give her nipples a tweak, I promise you she'll come on the spot."

He ashes his cigarette in the ashtray he keeps hidden behind their potted plants. "And they'll just keep getting bigger as long as she uses the moisturizer?" he says.

"Until she stops, yeah," his friend says. "Which she won't do on her own, not if she's using it so often. They get addicted to it so easily, it's crazy. The other day, I found Tessa using it as lube while she fingered her asshole, so now I give her an ass and pussy massage with it every night. She keeps asking me to take a look at her clit and tell her if it looks weird." He laughs fondly. "Stupid slut. It only seems to really work on their pussies and tits, though. Which is good, I don't want to worry about, like, huge elbows or something."

He hears a soft noise from inside and immediately stubs out his cigarette. "I've got to go," he says, and hangs up, flapping his dressing gown to try get the smell of smoke out of it. He gives up when he hears another noise from inside -- unmistakably a moan this time -- and he just leaves it hanging over one of the chairs on the balcony.

He slips inside. "You okay, hon?" he says. He can hear the blankets rustling, can see slight movements in the dim room.

"I -- yeah." Her voice is tight with pleasure, but there's an edge to it. Confusion, maybe, or fear. God, he'd love it if it were fear. "What were you doing outside?"

"Couldn't sleep," he says. He slips back into bed and reaches for her. He finds both hands on her breasts, squeezing and pinching at the flesh. "What are you doing?" He makes himself sound disappointed rather than aroused. "Honey, I told you, your tits are fine."

It's a test. She's never liked the word tits, has always snapped at him for using it in reference to her. But now, a little groan bubbles its way out of her mouth and she rolls towards him. She straddles his thigh and her pussy is slick and hot against his skin. "Can you -- can you touch me?" she says.

It takes everything he has not to shove her hands from her breasts and replace them with his mouth, to sink his teeth into her and twist her nipples and make her come solely from him hurting her tits. But instead, he sighs and twists his hips slightly so she can't feel him getting hard. "I'm exhausted, babe," he says. "Can you -- I mean, I can go down on you or something, if you really want, but..." He trails off, reluctance dripping from his every word. "Why are you being so weird tonight?"

She moves away from him like he slapped her. "Sorry," she says. "I know. I don't know. I woke up and just -- anyway. Sorry. I'm sorry, you go to sleep. I'll just -- go make myself some tea or something."

She gets out of bed slowly, like she's hoping he'll call her back. He stays completely silent, other than deepening his breath like he's already fallen asleep. He hears her footsteps shuffle on the carpet, hears the creak of the bedroom door as it swings open and shut.

The moment she's gone, he wraps his hand around his cock and starts tugging at it, hard and fast, dripping enough pre-come that there's no need to reach for lube. He wonders if she's actually making tea or if she couldn't resist fingering herself, if she's bent herself over the kitchen counter so she can rub her breasts on the cool marble while she buries her fingers in her cunt. He hopes that she feels disgusting after she comes, hopes that she's left trembling with shame, hopes that she can't help licking the taste of her leaking cunt from her fingers.

He falls into a deep, peaceful sleep seconds after coming. He doesn't remember his dreams when he wakes up in the morning, but she's back in bed beside him, her forehead creased with a concerned frown even in her sleep.

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lullabyes22-blog · 11 months

Text

Forward, but Never Forget/XOXO - Snippet - A Smuggler's Tale of Woe

Silco shares a bedtime story with Mel.

Forward, but Never Forget/XOXO

Snippet:

Mel’s eyes search him, the gold edging into dark. "You've gone terribly quiet."

"I'm curious."

"Yes?"

"How often do you do this?"

"Take a Chancellor down to the Sumps, and have him until his legs give out?" She tips him a smile, artfully deceptive. "Not more than once a week."

"Oh, I don't doubt your ingenuity. But I do wonder if risk has become its own reward."

"What do you mean?"

"You remind me of a smuggler I once knew," Silco muses. "Brilliant fellow. A real head for business. Could steal a loaf from a miser's mouth, with not a crumb leftover.”

“Hmm,” she purrs. “He does sound familiar.”

“He knew he was clever, too. So, of course, he made his livelihood doing the undoable." Mel's hand is still in Silco’s hair, an idle caress. The rest of her concentration is on the thrum of his words against her belly: a whisper-song of warning. "His specialty was hefty hauls—jewels, spices, silks—that were too hot to handle. So hot, in fact, that they'd need a cooling-off period before they hit the market. Our smuggler had no patience for such tactics. His favorite game was to transport his goods at high noon—when the markets were at full bustle. A great risk, but one he relished. And why not? He was so canny that nobody ever suspected him."

"How did he manage it?"

"Covered every angle, didn't he? Smugglers are masters of timing. Like astrologers, really. They've a whole calendar of sunsets, half-moons, low tides, stars. All the celestial cues to plot their maneuvers. So our smuggler wasn't fazed by the hour. He knew when the buyers would be out in full force. Where the ships would dock. How the Patrolmen would change shifts. He'd plot every second in his mind. He'd unload his haul, in plain sight. He'd wait as the market crowds surged and the buyers closed deals. At the critical juncture, he'd whip into a blind corner—a blink of an eye—then slip back out. Then off the goods would go, still hot as sin, and yet so cold, the buyers didn't know the difference. And off he'd go, with coins in his pockets, and a grin as wide as the Sun Gates."

Mel tweaks a brow. "Diabolical."

"Sly as a fox, he'd say. The gods are on my side."

"Was he right?"

"There's a time and place for every god." Silco's scarred cheek nuzzles her belly. "But mortals do not share their calendars."

She is quiet for a moment. Then: "So what happened to him?"

"He took a risk," he says. "A foolish one, by his reckoning. He did the job the old-fashioned way: all by hand, no charts. When the Patrolmen showed up, they spotted the goods. Our smuggler was quick as lightning: he threw the crates back in the hold and gunned the engines. But one of the Patrolmen managed to clamber on board. A younger lad, new to the job. He saw the smuggler—tangled in the netting, dangling by a rope from the open hatch—and took a shot."

"And hit him?"

"Straight through the heart." Silco's breath is hot on her navel. "He dropped into the sea like a stone."

Mel's silence turns pensive. "Is there a moral to the story?"

"No moral. Only an ending."

"A smuggler's tale of woe."

"A smuggler's love of risk. They can't resist it. They make their living by defying common sense. They see danger, and they dive right into it."

"And that's us now?"

"Our game has high stakes. And it's in full public view. That's enough thrill to addle the sanest man."

Mel's eyelids flicker, a fracture in the sultry veneer. "Or woman."

"Quite."

#arcane #arcane league of legends #arcane silco #silco #arcane mel #mel #mel medarda #melco #silco x mel #forward (never forget)/xoxo #forward but never forget/xoxo #snippet

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deanwinchesterswitch · 1 year

Text

The Girlfriend Who Remade Christmas

Part Seven: We Three Kings of Everything, Jack and Johnny, and Jim Beam

Square: Whiskey ~ @spnchristmasbingo

Song: All I Want for Christmas is Whiskey ~ Dan Rodriguez

Pairing: Dean x Nicole {Nico/Nic} OFC

Summary: Previously withheld information comes to light and leads to a titillating compromise. Nicole is a lightweight.

Warnings: Fluff; Bit of emotional turmoil; Sexually suggestive flirting; Implied sex; Mild language; Drinking-getting drunk; Canon divergence; POV switches-indicated

Word Count: 4,276

Beta: @princessmisery666

Credit: @talesmaniac89 made the wonderful title card and dividers

Series Master Post

Nicole leans back in the chair, legs stretched out in front of her, sipping a glass of water as she admires her sleeping beau’s face. Striking good looks is an understatement, but when he sleeps, really sleeps, it’s like seeing a rapturous union with the divine. And no, she’s not exaggerating; Dean’s face is the epitome of da Vinci’s Golden Ratio. She knows. She’s had the pleasure of seeing that face nearly every day since they met and has memorized every angle and curve, every wrinkle and freckle. Plus, she verified it by overlaying a picture of Dean with the ratio mask diagram.

Near perfection, from any viewpoint, alluringly tousled hair, an unfair amount of thick, down-soft lashes, the slight uplift at the corners of those insanely lush pink lips framed by that sinfully seductive scruff. It’s hard to believe he was—well, she supposes he still is—one of the most feared men in the universe and not gracing the covers of magazines as everyone speculates if he has discovered his own fountain of youth because damn, he’s aged like a fine whiskey. Her perusal hasn’t even made it to the exquisite form, barely covered by the sheet, when her toes curl, and her teeth sink into her bottom lip.

“Like what you see?”

The honey-coated, whiskey-graveled voice—fully immersed in the purple prose this morning, I guess, but honestly, there’s no lie in any of it, so why not go with the flow—ripples over her like a heatwave in the Sahara, and Dean is the oasis. Laughing silently at her over-the-top sentiments, she takes another sip of water before setting the glass down.

She slinks over to the bed and knees up onto the mattress. “Yes, I do like what I see,” she hums as she crawls over him, “I adore what I see.” Dean chuckles as he rolls onto his back, and she stretches out over his body. “I lust after what I see.” Laying her head on his shoulder, she nuzzles into his neck. It’s her favorite spot in the whole world—resting on top of him, strong arms holding her secure, hearts mere inches apart as they beat together. Nipping at his ear, she whispers, “I ordered breakfast with extra bacon and two pots of coffee.”

A deep chuckle vibrates through his chest. “Such a sweet talker. You really know how to rev me up, don’t cha.”

“Well, I certainly hope so.” Slipping a leg between his, her fingers trace along his collarbone and down his pec to tweak a nipple. A knock at the door and a muffled call of ‘Room Service’ has her slipping from his arms as he growls in disapproval.

“Hey, you’re not going to answer the door like that, are you?”

Looking down her body at the oversized t-shirt she’s wearing, she shrugs, then twists to look at her backside in the mirrored closet door. “Everything’s covered,” she laughs. “I’m sure they’ve seen a lot more.”

Dean’s brow furrows as he puckers his lips. “Well, don’t bend over.”

“Oh, don’t worry, sweetie,” she turns and bends forward, mooning him as she slaps her ass, “this is all yours.”

“Son of a-”

With a laugh, she exits the bedroom and crosses through the living space of their suite to answer the door.

“I could get used to this.” Stretching out his legs, crossing them at his ankles, he leans back in the chair. It’s still early enough that the heat isn’t oppressive yet, but he can see a shimmer over the sand in the distance. “But, three nights here? The camera equipment. That’s a lot of money, Nic.”

He knew that her work was gaining traction—he reads all the reviews on her site—but he hadn’t really thought about what that meant financially. When he asked her about it last night, she’d brushed it off, saying she’d been earning passive income from selling stock photos and had taken extra jewelry commissions for the holidays. He feels guilty for not knowing just how successful she’s become, for not supporting her more, but he also feels like there’s something else.

“I get that you don’t wanna stay in the crappy motels we usually do, but a cheaper hotel would have been fine. Or you should have put it on the card.”

She reaches over to squeeze his hand in hers. “We talked about this. I wanted this to be from me, something special for you …for us.” He bobs his head, and she continues, “It’s not a big deal. I had a lot of sales because it’s the gift-giving season. It’s already started to slow down. After the holidays, I’ll be back to being a starving artist.”

“Exactly. That’s why you should save your money and not spend it on this.”

Her coffee cup hits the table with a thud, and he cautiously watches as she rises to skirt around it and stands in front of him. Planting a foot on either side of his calves, hands on her hips, she challenges, “Since when are you worried about money and how it’s spent?”

Straightening, he reaches for her hips to pull her closer. She resists at first, shuffling forward when he persists, but remains standing as he looks up at her. “Because it’s your money, Nic. You earned it. It didn’t come from hustling pool or the magic credit card or some other fraudulent means. You worked for it.”

Gripping his wrists, she removes his hands from her waist, dropping them as she steps back to lean against the railing. Dean shifts in the seat, squinting back at her as her eyes seem to bore into his soul. He knows that she’s shoveling through the layers of his crap. Sometimes, it scares him how well she can read him. When the corner of her mouth curls upward, he knows she’s uncovered the smoking gun he hadn’t really been trying to hide.

“I know this isn’t some bullshit neanderthal thinking that the man should be the breadwinner. You don’t think that way. Which leads me to believe there are some misguided feelings of guilt and doubt about what you deserve being stirred up by the uncertainty you're experiencing regarding your future.”

Dean gulps. On the one hand, he loves the comfort and immediate understanding that comes from the bond they share, the trust they’ve built over the years, and the give and take to accommodate the others’ needs. On the other hand, it can be very disconcerting, especially when he’s the one in need.

“Well, okay then, Dr. Phil.” There’s a twitch of her lip, and then she clears her throat, her stern face slipping back into place.

“Dean, you know that if you want to talk more about that, I’m here whenever you need me. Right?”

“Yeah, of course. And you know that you can talk to me about anything. Right?”

A slight nod and the pucker of her lips as she briefly looks out at the landscape indicate she knows he isn’t gonna let it drop that easily. “This is supposed to be a vacation,” she says after a few moments. “We’re supposed to be enjoying the things we never had a chance to enjoy before—having fun. Debating finances is not my idea of fun.”

“Who's debating? I'm just saying ...”

Pushing off the railing with a hum, she closes the space between them, straddling his lap as she crawls into the oversized deck chair. “Fine, but it’s not a big deal. So don’t turn it into one.” She fiddles with the hem of his shirt sleeve while the other hand rests on his chest. “I got a year-long photography contract with a national magazine for a series of articles and online posts they’re going to run.”

“Whoa. What?" He grips her shoulders, holding her at arm’s length. “How is that not a big deal? And why didn’t you tell me?”

“I was going to tell you last week when I got the first check. Take you out for burgers and pie to celebrate. But then …”

She tucks her chin, biting her lip, shifting nervously in his lap, and it hits him. “But then I blew up about all the Christmas stuff. Sulking like a jerk.” He feels like such an ass. She put everything on hold to make him the center of her focus, and he hadn’t even bothered to check in on what was happening with her. “Shit, I’m sorry for making you feel like you couldn’t share that with me. There are two of us in this relationship. You matter, too.”

“I know,” she looks up with a soft smile, “but relationships aren’t always fifty/fifty either. Sometimes, it’s about one person's needs more than the other. There’s always a give and take. I’ve lost track of the number of times you ignored everything to take care of me. Right now, your needs outweigh anything I have going on, and I have no qualms about putting you first.” Her knuckles graze over his jaw, palm coming to rest on his cheek. “I want to focus on you.”

Placing his hand over hers, he cages her warmth and croaks, “I hit the jackpot with you, didn’t I.” Overcome by the reverence and adoration he feels for her, he leans into her touch and closes his eyes.

She gives him a moment to try and sort through it all, flattening her other hand over his pounding heart, grounding him. Once again, ignoring her exigencies to tend to his.

Dropping his hand as he flicks his eyes open, he gushes, “I am so proud of you, Nico,” and pulls her into a hug.

“Dean, you-“

“Don’t,” he says, releasing her. “It is a big deal. We-”

“Stop,” she exclaims, covering his mouth with her hand. “Can I finish my sentence?” He winks. “Don’t you dare lick my hand,” she laughs, pulling it away as he parts his lips.

She growls at his laugh but then steals a quick kiss, which shuts him up.

“You’re the reason I got the contract.”

“Uh, how?” He’s thoroughly confused. He doesn’t remember taking part in anything.

“Do you remember when I first mentioned that I was kicking around the idea of whether to offer images as stock photos?”

“Yeah,” he draws out the response as he recalls the conversation. “You were worried that no one would like your subject matter.”

“That’s right. Then you went and did a bunch of research on it. You sent me links to sites about finding one’s niche, determining prices, what pitfalls I should watch for, and which stock photo sites you thought would work best for me.” Draping an arm over his collarbone, her fingers play with the hair at his nape. “You also sent links to photography assignments. Along with a note telling me that you believed in me and if people didn’t like my photos, they could piss off.”

Laughing, he rubs a hand over her forearm. “I don’t think those were my exact words.”

“No,” she smiles. “They were a little more colorful but also sweeter. My point is that in those links was the application for this job, and your note gave me the confidence to apply. So, you earned this as much as I did.”

“You did the work, Nic. I didn’t do anything you wouldn’t have done for me.” The piqued expression and displeased tilt of her head say more than any words, and he reluctantly surrenders. “Fine, but we’ll have to agree to disagree on this one. We should still celebrate. Anything you want to do.”

Chewing on her lip, she takes a moment to think about it. “Anything?”

The suggestive smile should have been his warning, but he would do anything to make her happy. “Anything,” he repeats with conviction.

“Alright. No more talk about money, where it came from, how much is being spent, or who it’s being spent on. Since you still seem to believe that it’s solely mine, then I should be able to spend it however I want. So …for the duration of this trip,” eyes darkening, the pitch of her voice drops, “you will be a kept man, Dean Winchester.”

“Whoa, uh,” fingers digging into the sides of her ass cheeks, he sucks in a breath, “that’s, uh, not where I expected this to go.”

Cheek resting against his, palm sliding up the back of his head, her fingers tangle in longer hair, and the upward cant of his hips is unpreventable when she tugs his head back and whispers, “Show me how you’ll earn your keep.”

Exiting the bathroom later, she hears Dean in the other room talking to someone and stops in the bedroom since she’s currently only wearing a towel after their shower. When there’s no audible reply to his question, she assumes he’s on the phone. Stepping into the doorway, she finds him staring out the window, phone to his ear, wearing nothing but his boxers. It’s a glorious sight, and she reclines against the door frame. Eyes gobbling up the feast presented to her, she only catches snippets of the conversation, letting it fade into background noise.

“Just put it away somewhere, and I’ll look at it when we get back.” Running a hand through his damp hair, the sculpted muscles of his shoulders flex and extend beneath smooth, freckled flesh as he listens to the other person. “I don’t know. I don’t even know where we’re going.” There’s another pause, and then, “Uh, the first day was kinda rough, but it’s all good now.”

When his tone changes, she realizes that he’s getting ready to end the call, “Yeah, yeah, I’ll text ya in a couple of days,�� and quietly makes her way over to him. Slipping her arms around his waist, she presses her lips to the dip between his shoulder blades. “Hey, I gotta go. Thanks, man.”

Dean lifts his arm, and she ducks beneath it as she slides around to face him. “Sam? Everything okay?”

“Uh, yeah. There was a package for me in the mail, and he was checking to see if it was something I needed.”

“Do you? I could text him, give him the address of our next stop where he can send it.”

“No. It’s, uh …it’s just a spare part for Baby. Nothing needed at the moment.” He seems distracted, deep creases marring his brow. Before she can press further, he deflects her attention by dragging a finger along the edge of the towel, then hooking it over the fabric and gently tugging. “So, where are we off to today?”

“Oh, you’re going to like it.” Turning, she lets the loosened cotton fall to the floor, putting a little more sway into her step as she saunters toward the bedroom. The hiss of his indrawn breath makes her giggle as she throws over her shoulder, “I just need to check something first.”

“Is it your plan to kill me on this trip?” Dean challenges, following her into the room, ogling while she makes a show of putting on her underwear and bra. “You keep that up, and we won’t be going anywhere today.”

Opening her laptop, she finishes buttoning her shirt, waiting for her emails to load. Seeing one from the distillery, she excitedly clicks it open, shrieking in delight as she reads the message. Dean is instantly at her side, and she quickly flips the device closed.

“What? Everything okay?”

“Better than okay.” Grabbing his wrist, she twists it to view his watch. “Oh. We need to get going, though. Get dressed.”

Dean’s eyes widen as they pull into the parking lot of the whiskey distillery, “No way,” and the excitement he radiates sends her heart soaring. “We doing a tour?”

“Yep. Plus, we get to be on the bottling crew! That’s what the email was about this morning.”

“You mean we have to work?” he pouts.

“Yes,” she lightly pats his cheek, “but you’ll still get to sample plenty at the tasting, and we each get to take home one of the bottles of whiskey we bottled!”

“Awesome.”

“Oh, this is some damn good whiskey. I think this one is my favorite.”

Sitting on the floor, back against the couch, with Nic sitting between his outstretched legs, Dean’s laugh is free and easy. The tour of the distillery had been fun and informative, and even though being on the bottling crew had been serious work, he’d thoroughly enjoyed the tasks assigned to him. Doing physical labor, working alongside the master distiller, and learning about the whiskey-making process energized him in a way he hadn’t felt in a long time. The weight that’s been dragging him down became a little lighter. It had been a good day.

“That’s what you said about the last one, and the one before, and the one … “

She slaps his thigh, giggling. “Shut up. It’s this one, for sure. I like the toffee finish. Oh, and that drink made with this,” she lifts her tasting tumbler, “and the prickly pear syrup …yuuuummm! You liked the boulevder, white bole …bullevarder, right?”

“White Boulevardier.“ Dean corrects with an amused shake of his head. “Alright, you lightweight. I think it’s time to go to bed.”

“Wait, nooooooo …It’s still early.”

“Yeah, and you’re already drunk.”

“I’m not drunk; that’s just a hard word to pronounce,” she pouts.

“Yes, it is,” He concedes, wrapping his arms around her and kissing the top of her head when she leans back.

Nic sighs, “That place was so cool!”

“It was. Thank you for taking me there.”

“Hey,” she downs the last of her drink and clumsily sets the glass on the table, “what if we made whiskey in the bunker?” There’s a hiccup and then a soft snort. “Could call it Surpu …Supernatural SpiritsTM. ‘Cause we deal with ghosts and stuff, and alc’hol are spirits, too.” She slaps his thigh. “Get it?”

“I get it.” Laughing with her as she giggles and gives her an affectionate squeeze. “That’s actually not a bad name,” he hums.

“I know,” she states, head flopping back onto his shoulder with a sigh.

Content in the moment, he rests his cheek on her temple and thinks about what she suggested, contemplating the logistics of such a venture. Obviously, they couldn’t start a distillery at the actual bunker, but maybe a location nearby. Preoccupied, she nearly gives him a heart attack when, in a surprise move, she jumps from his hold and whips around to sit on her knees, bumping into the table in the process. Dean quickly reaches around her to save the open bottle from tumbling to the floor.

“The festival is tomorrow, right?”

“Uh, yeah.” He’s gonna get whiplash trying to keep up with the subject changes. “About twenty minutes north of here, the guy said.”

“Marcus.” She nods her head. “He was a great tour guide and a kickass bartender.” Poking him in the arm, she declares, “That’s where we’re goin’ t’morrow.”

“Let’s see how you feel in the morning,” he smiles, grunting when she aggressively backhands his chest.

“You don’t wanna go ‘cause of the tree light …ning.”

“Well,” he laughs, “trees and lightning are a bad combo.”

“Of course, they are, silly, but what’s that got to do with anything?” She throws her hands in the air with an adorably perplexed look, and he has to tilt his head back to keep from getting socked on the chin. “Only CRAZY people would stand near a tree when it’s lightn’ out.”

“Alright, that’s it.” Pushing off the floor, he stands, bending to slip his hands beneath her arms to pull her upright, holding onto her to keep her steady.

Once her feet are under her, she shakes him off, though. “I can walk on my own,” she grumbles. Wobbling as she spins, she throws her hands out to steady herself and giggles, “Ooopsie.” Dean offers a hand, and she bats it away, striding toward the room.

Throwing his hands up in surrender, he chuckles, “Go for it.” He follows, ready to catch her if she stumbles. She makes it to the bedroom doorway without incident, but as she turns with a gloating smirk, his warning, “Watch out!” registers a second too late, and she runs into the wooden casing.

“Owwww!” she giggle-whines, face scrunching in what he assumes is supposed to be anger but looks more like a sad, grumpy cat. ”Why didn’t you warn me?”

“I-” Knowing it won’t do any good to argue the point, he shakes his head in defeat and guides her into the room, reluctantly but obligingly stepping back when she pushes him away again.

He leans against the wall, arms and ankles crossed, still within close proximity. She starts to ramble as she undresses, muttering under her breath. Denim and purple cotton land at his feet after she shimmies out of her jeans and underwear, kicking them away.

The flutter in his heart as he keeps an eye on her catches him off guard. It’s not the stirrings of lust but something less tangible. It’s been a while since she’s drunk this much, the last time being several months ago after a rough hunt for the both of them. The copious consumption was meant to block the horror rather than celebrate any win. He’d forgotten how carefree they could be when the buzz came from enjoyment. They have a chance at a life filled with moments like these ...if he could just accept that.

His thoughts are interrupted when Nic’s angry cry draws his attention, and he chokes back the laugh at seeing her aggressively flap her arms in front of her, trying to untangle them from her shirt. As he reaches out to help, it lands on the floor in a flurry of fabric and air. Popping the front clasp on her bra, she wiggles out of it and whips it across the room with a whoop.

“Hate wearing those.”

“Well, I’m not opposed to you never wearing one again,” he mumbles, eyes drifting downward. This time, the stirring he feels is definitely lust, and it ain’t in his heart. Clearing his throat, he woefully but resolutely suppresses the desire. While he would always take the opportunity to appreciate the shapely form of the beautiful woman standing before him, he would never take advantage of her.

She stamps her foot with a huff, and his eyes quickly travel up her body. Arms raised above her head, her plush bottom lip protruding in a full pout, he realizes she’s been waiting for him to put her sleep shirt on her, and this time the burst of laughter comes unbidden. He quells the laugh to a low chuckle when she whines.

“Oh. Sorry.” Snatching up the garment, he helps her into it and then guides her to sit on the edge of the mattress after pulling the bedding down. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.” She huffs but nods in agreement.

Quickly finding the bottle of aspirin in his bag, he taps two into his palm, then fills a glass with water. Squatting in front of her, he holds out the painkillers, “Here, take these,” and helps her drink from the glass, setting it on the nightstand when she’s done. “Good girl.”

“You’re the best boyfriend ever,” she hums, a finger nearly taking his eye out as she tries to tap his nose. “Except … “

Nic waves her other hand in the air, and he swiftly grabs both her hands, laying them in her lap and holding them there to prevent any bodily injury to himself. “Except?”

“You’re not really a boy friend.” She twists her mouth in dismay, and her brow furrows like she’s deep in thought.

“No?” Curiosity gets the better of him, and he patiently waits for her to continue.

“No.” She shakes her head. “We’re obviously more than friends. I mean, we are still friends, but we’re more. Sexy more,” she slurs. “AND!” she practically shouts, making him rock back on his heels in surprise. “You are NOT a boy. Well …techanickally, you are a boy … ” Pulling a hand free, she holds it above her head but lowers her gaze to his crotch with a giggle, tongue brushing over her lips, “a very big boy,” and he has to bite his tongue to remain silent. When her hand lands heavily on his shoulder, she looks at him solemnly and matter-of-factly states, “And you do not have cooties.”

Damn, she’s adorable.

“You’re HOT!”

“I am?” The grin plastered on his face since they left the living room makes his cheeks ache.

“Yeah,” she vehemently nods, “smokin’ …noooooo …ssssizzle …in’.” She licks a finger and presses it to his shoulder, hissing. “Smokin’ and sizzlin’,” her eyes suddenly widen, like a light bulb flipped on above her head, “like bacon! I could eat you up, just like b’cn.”

Nic cackles hysterically, and he barks out a laugh, causing her to squeak in alarm. “Sorry,” he says, smoothing a hand over her hair to soothe her. Gripping her shoulders, he gently pushes her back. “Why don’t you lay down?

Without warning, she jerks forward and, with a stinging slap of her palms to his cheeks, tugs him closer, pressing their foreheads together. “Dean…”

Her eyes begin to gloss over as they roam his face, and he gently prompts, “Nico?”

“I love you.” Throwing her arms around his neck, she sniffles, “Soooooooooo much.”

“I know, honey. I love you, too.” Shuffling her up the bed, he tucks the sheet around her.

Eyes falling closed, she sighs, “G’night, Handsome.”

“Night, Gorgeous,” he whispers, brushing the back of his finger over her cheek.

Love Me Some Pie tag list:

@akshi8278 // @asgoodasdancingqueen // @calaofnoldor // @compresshischest09 // @deaneverafter // @deans-spinster-witch // @deanwanddamons // @flamencodiva // @idreamofplaid // @jerkbitchidjitassbutt // @justrealizedimmascifygurl // @ladysparkles78 // @michellethetvaddict // @mvdeanw // @shawnie74 // @thinkinghardhardlythinking // @thoughts-and-funnies // @waynes-multiverse // @wayward-and-worn // @waywardbaby // @weepingwillowphoenix

#spnchristmasbingo #whiskey #tgwrc: part seven #011723

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aroacepokefan · 1 year

Text

Lion Jay and Holly but as Mothpool kits! I really like this Au... Plus Leafpool and Mothwing. Going to talk abt some design stuff under the image. These designs are first drafts so they'll probably change in the future

Leafpool- Fawn and Cream torbie. Tried to add a lot of leaf shapes to her design but overall pretty straightforward. Ik she has yellow eyes but I always thought she had green?? So I gave her green. Idk.

Mothwing- Golden colorpoint with spotted tabby markings. Is this possible??? I don't care it looks nice. Moth shaped face and tail with antenna brows. She's very sturdy.

Lionblaze- Flame point with tabby markings. When I was making the three I was kind of toying with the possibility of changing their powers up a bit? Lionblaze has super strength but no invulnerability and being reckless in battle has lead to him getting pretty badly beat up. I'm not sure what the story consequences of this would be though. I was going to give all the three a chest star but I forgor. I'll have to change that when I tweak their designs in the future.

Jayfeather- Mink point with tabby markings, he's based on a stellar's jay instead of a blue jay like i usually see his designs get based off. I like it when he has eye markings on his body so I added that too. If I was going to change his powers I would probably limit it to either his emotion reading or dream walking? I'm not sure which though. Also he would probably be called Jaywing not jayfeather since he's not named after crowfeather in this AU.

Hollyleaf- Black tabby. Yes holly is a tiger clone in this au sorry. She's the most cryptid of her siblings. Holly should be allowed to have a power as a treat, maybe prophecy/visions?

#warriors #warriors designs #cats #lionblaze #hollyleaf #jayfeather #leafpool #mothwing #mothpool #power of three #warrior cats #warriors fanart #warriors redesign #vix's art

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waltwhitmansbeard · 1 year

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hesitantly tugging the other's fabric of their shirt or sleeve, testing the waters -dealer's choice

hesitantly tugging the other's fabric of their shirt or sleeve, testing the waters time to write some de rolo family!

Whitestone is bustling, the air crackling with energy and excitement. This is one of Vesper's favorite days of the year, when everyone gathers around the magnificent clock tower her father spent her entire childhood building to watch the legend of Vox Machina play out in an intricate display of gears and carvings. It is always a sight to behold, and since the first year it was completed, she has never missed this annual tradition.

All of Whitestone crowds around, but Vesper and the rest of the de Rolo family stands just a bit apart, up on a small dais constructed just for the event. This year, their mother can't make it, called away on urgent Council business, but as the sun creeps ever closer to its apex, Vesper leans over and kisses her father on the cheek. "Are you excited, Papa?"

He squeezes his arm around her shoulder. "I've seen it before, dear."

She rolls her eyes. "Doesn't mean you can't be excited."

He chuckles, but then his attention is pulled away by Leona, who needs to tattle on Wolfe for something or another. Vesper tips her head to gaze back up at the clock, eagerly awaiting the start of the show.

A minute later, there's a tiny tugging on the long sleeve of her dress. She looks down, and there is Gwendolyn, tottering and clutching her favorite stuffed bear. Her eyes are wide and shining. "Gwennie?" Gwen flaps a hand toward herself, beckoning Vesper to come closer. She crouches down. "What's wrong?"

"Everyone's staring."

Vesper's brow furrows, and she looks out toward the crowd. Sure enough, more than a few pairs of eyes flicker between the clocktower and her baby sister, and even more than that stare openly, as if she were a rampaging wild animal and not a person.

And it's not like Vesper doesn't know why. She tuck one of Gwen's dark curls behind her ears, tweaks her red nose. "It's because they're jealous," she whispers conspiratorially.

Gwen frowns. "Jealous?"

"Well, yeah." Vesper reaches up to tickle the spot on Gwen's left horn that she knows is ticklish, and Gwen giggles. "Do you know how cool it is that you've got horns? None of them have horns. None of us either." She gestures to the rest of the family behind her. "We're so boring. But you, you're something special, and they can see that, and they're just jealous."

Gwen's face cracks open into an ear-to-ear grin. "Really?"

"Absolutely. Now c'mon." She wraps her arm around Gwen's waist and stands, pulling her up so that she's sitting on her hip. She points up at the top of the clocktower. "Watch there. In just a few minutes, the clock face will open up, and little figures will tell the story of Mama and Papa and Uncle Vax and all their friends saving the world."

"Whoa," Gwen breathes, craning her neck as far as she can. Vesper seizes the opportunity to blow a raspberry into her baby sister's throat, earning her favorite shrieking giggle. Fuck the rest of this town. Her sister is her sister, horns and all, and there's nothing she wouldn't do to protect her family.

#ask #runforyourshield #critical role #critical role fic #cr fic #vox machina #vox machina fic #de rolo family #de rolo family fic #my fic

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pocket-ozwynn · 2 years

Text

Love Isn’t Fragile

Y’all are amazing 🥺 thank you so much for your support and participation with my survey that I posted! This prompt was one that was y’all had voted on to see, and I was more than happy to oblige! I admit, I tweaked the prompt a smidge but I’m still happy with the results. Stay tuned for the other two prompts I mentioned in that post! Until then, enjoy! 💖

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[Emotional Shifter!AU]

Word Count: 1341

Note: There is intense descriptions with Alice’s involuntary Size-Shifting with similar symptoms to panic attacks. While this definitely is still a hurt/comfort piece, the beginning leans heavily towards the former.

The air was yanked from his lungs as Alice plummeted. The entire room shot upwards as if he reached terminal velocity, and yet his feet remained on terra firma. Anxiety swelled as he physically diminished.

“No no no no…” Alice breathed as he clutched his chest. His phone slipped out of his free hand and fell to the ground with a clatter.

His heart was pounding so fast, he worried it would surely crack ribs. His eyes widened in horror as he grew smaller...and smaller...and smaller still.

Though the panic was familiar, it was no less crushing.

His bones felt like someone was crumpling tin foil and his skin grew hot. What first felt like errant tears erupted into inevitable sobs as he trembled. He fought back the need to cough up his heart. He clutched his biceps and dug his fingertips into the muscle. He couldn’t stop shaking as the floor rushed up and expanded beneath him.

Finally, it stopped.

Alice felt sick as he tried adjusting to his new size. His crying had quieted, but only because his skull tingled with fatigue and his lungs ached. He staggered a bit as he tried to walk, but his knees nearly gave out from under him. Alice wanted to scream, but a whimper was all he could manage.

He remembered the last time he got even remotely close to this small. It was in public, he and Maura were getting dinner. He remembered the look on her face, the words she had for him when they got back out to the car. Maura never did let him forget how humiliating that was for her. And even though he hadn’t seen Maura in years, that pain wriggled its way from his memory and hooked itself into his heart.

His brain felt so loud.

He steadied his breathing and furiously wiped the tears from his eyes–the worst of it had passed, but he knew it’d take some time to recompose himself. With any luck, he could try running a hot bath or something to calm down–maybe that’d help be a little more presentable for when Freyja got home. It’d also give him some time to let his eyes get a bit less puffy and red. Maybe he could even-

Alice froze as the floor shook.

Panic flared back up as Alice realized the cause of the quaking. It was too late, Freyja was home. In the tumult of his own thoughts, he must’ve missed the sound of her motorcycle pulling up.

What would she think if she saw him like this?

Less of a man…weak…she won’t accept you…

And even though words had never been uttered by a single soul, their fabricated edges still cut deep.

Alice couldn’t will himself to move as Freyja came through the front door. She had her helmet under one arm and a bag of groceries in the other. Her hair was a bit matted, but she smiled brightly as she did a cursory glance across the front of their apartment.

“Hey babe!” Freyja called out as she reached back with her boot to kick the door closed behind her. “I’m hom-”

Freyja didn’t finish her sentence. She tipped her head curiously as she seemed to look straight at Alice. His heart raced. How could she even see him? There’s no way she could’ve spotted him from so high up without even knowing that Alice could shrink this small.

Then he remembered his cell phone. He’d dropped it before he shrank. It was right next to him.

For a few breathless moments, Freyja just stood there and studied the phone quizzically. Her brow furrowed slightly as she regarded it. And despite him holding as still as possible, her eyes flicked just enough to the side to spy her shrunken sweetheart. Realization hit Freyja like a bucket of ice water. “Alice?”

Alice bolted as he failed to choke back a cry. He knew he couldn’t outrun Freyja, but maybe he could find someplace to hide. Maybe he could hide under the couch?

Far behind him he heard Freyja drop helmet and groceries in the entryway like an avalanche of plastic and produce. “WAIT, BABE!” The floor SHOOK as Freyja took big, long strides to catch up to him–each sprinter’s bound sent a jolt up Alice’s frame as he felt her footfalls grow closer.

Alice could barely see through his fresh tears. So it it caught him off guard when finally managed to wipe his tears away to now see Freyja’s gigantic fingers in front of him. He yelled as her as he tried backpedaling to avoid them as they curled inwards to grab him, but ran straight into her thumb. He scrambled in his attempts to get out and around her closing grasp,

“Hey…” Freyja carefully rose with him cupped in her hands. But even as she tried to defuse the panic, Alice was squirming to the point where he was getting dangerously close to the edge of her palm.

“HEY!” Freyja gasped as she fumbled with her diminutive boyfriend. She hissed and swore as he nearly fell off. Finally, Freyja wrapped her fingers into a gentle fist to hold him snug. Alice writhed frantically within her grasp in a panicked attempt to escape.

Seeing that Alice was still going to writhe, Freyja tightened her grip–not overly tight, but just enough to try and still him. It shocked Alice at first. He felt like it should have been terrifying to be squeezed like that–or that such a sensation would only compound onto the crushing weight he felt in his lungs…but it felt surprisingly grounding. His limbs were pinned to his sides, so he could do little else but force himself to relax within her grasp. He tried focusing on how his heartbeat felt pressed up against the muscle of Freyja’s finger.

“I gotcha baby, it’s okay,” Freyja rumbled low as she brought him up close to her face. Her other hand was kept close, for extra security should he slip out. Freyja studied him carefully. “Can you please take some deep breaths for me? Here, we’ll do ‘em together.”

Alice nodded–mercy, it felt like his head was going to fall off his neck he felt so lightheaded–and obliged. He took some deep breaths and focus on Freyja’s massive, pale green eyes. Freyja matched her breathing with his to silently direct how big she wanted his breaths to be.

“Alice…are you okay?” Freyja eased up her grip just enough for Alice to move his arms if he wanted. “You’ve never been this small before...what happened? Is something wrong?”

A wave of new emotion: guilt. Alice felt guilty that he had allowed Freyja to see him like this. Alice swallowed. “N-No…I’m not okay…” He slipped his arms out and gently rested them upon her finger. As he looked down, he dug his fingers into the massive muscle as he set his jaw. He fought back tears as he hissed through clenched teeth. “I-I’m sorry…”

“Why are you apologizing?” Freyja chided softly with a loving chuckle as she brought him down to rest against her chest. Alice shivered as he was pressed against the leather of her jacket. He could feel her heart beating. He could feel her deep, swelling breaths as she gathered her thoughts.

“It’s okay that you’re not okay,” Freyja reminded. “I’m here for you on the good days and bad days…no matter what size you are. My love for you isn’t fragile, Alice Beauchamp. Got that?”

Alice choked back a sob of…not relief, per se. But an emotion close to it. He buried his face into the leather and tried to focus on the beating of her heart. He nodded, “I...I got it. Th-thank you Frey...” Alice sighed softly and gingerly kissed her jacket, as if hoping the meager kiss would make it down towards that mighty heart of hers. Perhaps in reply, Freyja’s heart seemed to beat a bit faster.

“Good.” Freyja hummed. “C’mon…let’s take a hot bath. That always seems to help…”

#Emotional Shifter!AU #ogtoc Freyja #ogtoc Alice #wholesome giantess #g/t #giant/tiny #gt writing #g/t writing #hurt/comfrt #gt hurt/comfort #g/t hurt/comfort #size-shifter

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