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spideyhexx · 4 years ago

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the cookout; b.b. + s. l.

pairing; bucky barnes + sylvie laufeydottir + female!reader

a/n: umm thank @vineridden for talking to me about this and our shared love of Sylvie and Bucky. I couldn't help myself. Pls reblog/comment/give feedback!

masterlist

summary: Sylvie picks up on you and Bucky thirsting over each other and decides to do something about it...and perhaps involve herself.

NSFW 18+ Minors DNI please!!!

WARNINGS: mom's best friend!sylvie. college aged reader and bucky. dirty talk. threesome. grinding. spitting. soft dom!sylvie. some sub!bucky. some dom!reader. oral (female receiving). fingering. unprotected sex. facial. handjob. spanking. kind of edging. some voyeurism. use of the word "whore"

word count: 4.3k (oops)

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Sizzling grills, water splashing, and the loud chatter erupts from your backyard.

Well, more specifically, your parent’s backyard. It’s not uncommon for them to throw huge cookouts, but this one was big. It’s an anniversary, welcome home, birthday, all the major events tied into one.

You didn’t mind these parties, but part of you wished you could just skip it and stay locked away in your room all day.

It was all good and fun, but the amount of people your parent’s would invite could become quite overwhelming.

One of the only good parts was Bucky. You hadn’t seen him in a couple months, due to the two of you attending different colleges, but that never stopped your frequent texts.

He lived in the house next door, your whole lives spent just a few paces away.

Getting through these parties together almost felt like a tradition. But this time, there was something different in the air.

You did not expect to be hit with a wave of awe as you watched Bucky greet your parents. He was always handsome and perhaps not physically seeing him for a bit made him look better, but shit was he gorgeous. His tight t-shirt was hiding nothing, making the muscles he worked hard on strain more prominently.

And you internally rolled your eyes at his swim trunks that had a cat pattern on them. Seems as though he still loved silly designs.

Your breath catches when he spots you, a grin spreading across his face as he jogs over.

“Flower! God, I’ve missed you,” Bucky says, pulling you right in for a hug. You want to tell him you missed hearing that nickname, but decide against it.

“Missed you too, Buck! Are you ready for a long night?” Bucky smirks at your statement.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” you clarify and Bucky still has the smirk on his face. His hands have not left your waist and you wonder if he could tell how much of an effect it has on you.

“I know, just teasin’. Did you hear Sylvie is coming?”

There’s the other good part about these cookouts. Sylvie, a friend of your mom’s.

It was only recently you started to develop a crush on her. With her witty comebacks and smooth accent, it was hard not to.

You might’ve drunkenly admitted your crush on her to Bucky during a late night phone call and he has not forgotten. I

t was easy for you to confess this crush, but somehow not the one you had begun to develop on Bucky himself. You felt a little ashamed that you have been developing feelings for your mother’s best friend, but nothing would ever happen, right?

Bucky tilts his head and pinches your waist.

“You’re already gettin’ lost in your thoughts thinkin’ about her!”

“Oh stop, you think she’s hot too,” you tease, your voice a tinge too loud and Bucky shushes you, putting a finger on your lips.

He did think she was hot.

Bucky revealed his crush on Sylvie as well when you first talked to him about it.

Since then, the two of you joked about it pretty often, but now was your first time seeing her since you’ve acknowledged the little (maybe big) crush.

“Hey Bucky!” One of your cousin’s calls out to him and he looks back at them, before turning to you.

“I’ll see you in the pool?” He questions and you nod, watching as he runs off to talk to more people.

He trips in his flip flops and you burst out laughing, not being able to contain it. Bucky whips his head to look at you and flips you off.

You take one last look at how good his back looks in his shirt before migrating to the lounge chairs, hoping there’s a free one.

That is when you spot Sylvie, laid back in one of the chairs, a drink in her hand.

You take a deep breath before approaching the seat next to her. She smiles widely when she notices you.

“Gonna give me a hug, flower?”

Sylvie beamed, placing her drink down to pull you in for a hug.

Flower.

You could not decide if it sounded better coming from Sylvie or Bucky. Relishing in Sylvie’s hug, you have to stop yourself from pouting when she pulls away just a bit too soon.

“How’re your studies going? I know you were practically jumping to get away from here?” She asks, settling back into her chair.

“School’s good, it feels nice to be around so many new people but, I’ve missed being home if I’m being honest,” you say and she nods in understanding.

“I know I’ve missed seeing you around, flower.”

A heat rushes across your face and you’re happy it’s hot enough outside to keep a facade up. You turn your head away from her, fearing you would end up lost in her eyes.

What you did not expect was for your eyes to lock onto the sight of Bucky taking his shirt off. It’s as though he meant to take it off in slow motion as he carefully lifts it over his head and throws it onto a chair. He puts one foot in the pool and retracts it.

You can vaguely hear him yelling about it being cold.

Bucky sits at the edge of the pool, letting his legs get used to the temperature.

He runs a hand through his hair, making it messier than it already is. Sylvie clears her throat and you turn to her.

“He is an attractive man, isn’t he?”

Her question catches you off guard for a moment, but nonetheless, you answer.

“Yeah, he is.”

A slight weight falls off your chest at admitting it, but how could you not?

Sylvie smirks, “Don’t look now, but he’s checking you out.”

You go to look anyway and sure enough, he’s gazing at you. Bucky turns his attention to a bowl of chips once he notices you caught him.

“You two are so adorable,” Sylvie says.

“Are we?”

She scoffs and leans in closer to you, almost whispering.

“Very much. You’re taking turns checking each other out.”

You laugh and look back at Bucky, who’s decided to lay back in a chair, his legs spread just enough for you to squeeze your thighs together.

“You should go over to him and sit on his lap,” Sylvie mused, chuckling at your shocked expression.

“What?! No, no I can’t do that Sylvie!”

“Why not? He was looking at your bum and now he’s rubbing his thigh, glancing at you like he’s waiting for you to take a seat.” You ponder her words for a moment.

Yes, sitting on Bucky’s lap sounded like a great idea, but you were a tad nervous.

“And I could tell you want him, honey. Do you know what eye fucking in? That’s what you’re doing.”

The fact that Sylvie could see so clearly through your lust filled eyes also managed to send sparks around your body.

“If he rejects you, you can sit in my lap. Now go, flower!”

Well, you couldn’t say no to that. Standing up, you adjust your swimsuit, then walk over to Bucky.

You run through what you should say once you’re by him, but you can’t decide on what would be best.

Too many thoughts are running through your head. Sylvie offering her lap. Her words about sitting in Bucky’s lap and the way his hands look even better against his thighs as you get closer.

“y/n,” he addresses.

“Can I..um, can I sit with you?”

Bucky raises his brow for a moment, but nods and pats a spot on the chair next to him.

“No, I mean, on you. On your lap,” you say and Bucky’s heart skips a beat.

“Sure you can, flower” he says cooly and he immediately wraps his arms around your waist as you settle against his chest, on his lap.

His hands feel warm against your skin, yet send a shiver up your spine. You allow yourself to lay your head on his shoulder, shifting around in his arms to get more comfortable.

“Careful,” Bucky mumbles, clearing his throat. It doesn’t take long to realize you shouldn’t squirm too much.

But you want to. You catch Sylvie’s eye and she smiles at you, raising her drink and then sipping from it.

“Did you have a good talk with her?” Bucky asks.

“Mmhm. She told me to sit here,” you confess, wanting to know his reaction.

He’s quiet for a moment before replying “Mischievous, huh?”

“Like always, but didn’t expect her to...help with this...I suppose.”

“I’m happy she did,” Bucky says, pressing a short kiss on your cheek.

You sit with Bucky for a bit, zoning out and trying to memorize the feeling of his hands splayed across your stomach.

How when he speaks, you can feel his breath hit the side of your face and his voice drops to a lower volume when he only wants to speak to you.

Being so caught up in your thoughts once more, you can’t help but squirm a bit, his arms tightening around you.

“You’re gonna cause a problem,” Bucky tells you, a slight smile playing on his lips. You push back against him and he contains a groan.

“Seems as though I already caused a problem.”

He chuckles and sighs deeply as you wiggle against him, reveling in how hard he’s gotten from your movements.

“We should go inside,” he mutters and you turn slightly to look at him.

“And do what?”

You feign innocence, but the smirk on your face tells Bucky you know exactly what you’re doing to him.

“Do I have to say it?”

You nod at him excitedly and he gently pushes your head to the side so he could lean his lips against your ear.

“I want to go inside so you could properly touch my cock, since you’ve had so much fun the past twenty minutes grinding against it.”

His words send a shudder through your body and you take one last glance at him before standing up. Bucky follows suit, placing a hand on your hip and keeping you close to his body to perhaps hide his rather big hard problem.

You lead him through the house to your bedroom. You don’t notice how fast you’re walking until Bucky pulls at your wrist and gently pushes you against the wall in the hallway.

“Slow down, flower,” he starts, bringing your hands up to his shoulders. He dips his head down to nudge your nose against his.

“Are you sure?”

You nod and Bucky, with a tinge of hesitance, presses his lips on yours. At first, the kiss is simple.

Bucky’s fingers rub against your sides gingerly and he’s taking his time to feel your mouth on his for the first time. You pull away first, your lips lingering on his own.

You catch your breath, not even realizing how fast your heart was beating. So many feelings are rushing through you, but the main urge coursing around is the one to smash his lips back onto you.

One of your hands drifts up to the back of his head to encourage his mouth back onto yours in a searing kiss.

His actions are a little more desperate as he nips at your top lip and presses his body closer to you. The strain in his swimsuit is undeniable and you whimper as you feel him pushing himself against your thigh. Bucky grunts and you trail your lips to his jaw.

Someone clears their throat and you and Bucky jump apart. Sylvie stands a couple feet away leaning against the wall, her arms crossed over her chest and a playful smirk decorating her face.

“Don’t stop on my account,” she teases, gesturing for the two of you to continue. You look at Bucky and he’s already got his eyes back on you.

“I’m fine with it...if you are too,” he mutters, his lips brushing yours as he speaks.

“It’s okay,” you reply, kissing him once more.

Heat pools in your belly knowing that Sylvie is watching you make out with Bucky.

“Tug at his hair, flower,” she murmurs and without hesitation you pull at Bucky’s hair, a soft noise escaping his mouth at the sensation.

“Little harder this time.”

You follow her instructions again, tugging hard, causing Bucky to buck his hips against you.

“See? He liked that,” Sylvie comments.

“Why don’t we go to y/n’s room? For more privacy.”

The fact that there’s a party right outside has completely glossed over your mind.

The strong desire to have this moment with not just Bucky, but Sylvie as well was enough to lead Bucky into your room, Sylvie following behind. She closes the door and locks it. She takes a seat in your desk chair.

“Continue...with what you were doing.” Her voice, firm yet soft must’ve been turning both you and Bucky on.

His cock looked like it was suffering from his shorts, while you could feel how soaked you’ve gotten since you first sat on Bucky’s lap.

Bucky sat on the edge of the bed and patted his thigh.

You straddle him, gasping at the feeling of his hard cock right by where you needed him. Bucky kissed your neck, sucking softly around to find what spots made you weak.

“I bet she likes it right under her ear, Barnes.”

He quickly moved his lips to the spot and sure enough, it made you whimper. You shift in his lap, slightly grinding against him.

His hands fall to your ass, rubbing the skin and pushing you forward to continue grinding.

“Now, flower, look at his lips. What do they look like?”

Sylvie asked and Bucky pulled his head from your neck. You hold his jaw in your hand and gaze across his lips.

“Wet. Redder than usual.”

Sylvie hums as a response.

“Do you think those lips would feel good on your clit?”

You gasp at her words and Bucky smirks.

“I know they would,” Bucky remarks and Sylvie tsks at him.

“I’m not talking to you, Barnes. Be quiet.”

That wipes the smirk off of his face, but does not stop you from smiling.

“They would feel good.”

You answer, and Sylvie hums again.

“You wanna make them more wet? Spit on his lips. Don’t open your mouth, Barnes. You don’t deserve her spit in your mouth right now.”

Bucky groans and you swallow hard, suddenly a little nervous.

Sylvie seems to sense this and you feel her presence behind you. Her hands slide up your arms to your shoulders and she leans her lips close to your ear.

“It’s okay, flower. You’re already doing so good. I know you want to see Buck become a mess, so do it when you’re ready.”

Her praise really does things for you. You grip Bucky’s jaw tighter, his eyes blown out as he looks up at you.

You gather saliva in your mouth and spit directly onto his lips. He has a hard time keeping them closed, but he does it.

“Smear it against his lips now,” Sylvie says, still standing behind you. Using your thumb, you rub your spit onto his lips. Bucky takes a deep breath, probably trying to control himself.

“Do it again.”

You go through the motions once more, but as you smear the wetness across Bucky’s lips, he can’t help himself anymore. He takes your thumb into his mouth and sucks on it lightly.

You pull your thumb away from him and he whimpers.

“He didn’t listen. What are you going to do about it flower? Slap him? That would be sexy.”

“He would like it though, so not a punishment,” you say and Sylvie smiles.

“Hm you’re learning, honey.”

Sylvie places a kiss on your shoulder, the first time her lips have touched your skin so far.

“He does want to cum. He’s pressing so hard against me.”

Sylvie nods, “then we’ll edge him. He needs to put those pretty lips on you first anyways, right Barnes?”

“Yeah, right,” he stumbles out after clearing his throat.

“Switch spots and take the swimsuit off, flower” Sylvie commands.

You hop off of Bucky’s lap, slowly slipping off the bathing suit. You felt the stares of Bucky and Sylvie bore into your body, but Sylvie’s soft smile made you feel more comfortable.

You sit at the edge of the bed. Sylvie leans close so she could whisper only to you.

“Tell him to kneel,” she says. Your brow raises at her and she nods. Looking back at Bucky, you spread your legs, noticing how a blush is coating his cheeks.

“Kneel,” you say, not as confident as you would have hoped, but it still affects Bucky.

You could almost see how it made his cock twitch. Bucky drops to his knees, moving in between your legs.

“No touching,” Sylvie tells him and continues “only use your mouth. Make her cum.”

You rest one hand on Bucky’s head, close to tugging at it again when he immediately places his lips on your cunt. His tongue rolls through your folds as if he’s testing what feels good.

“Pull on his hair, flower. Use his mouth to get off.”

Bucky moans against you as you tug at his hair, pushing his face closer to your pussy. His tongue flicks at your entrance, his nose bumping against your clit. You slowly start to move your hips, using his face, just how Sylvie told you.

“That’s it, flower. Fuck he’s really into your cunt,” Sylvie says, sitting next to you on the bed. She was right, even though you were moving against Bucky’s mouth, he was devouring you.

Wrapping his lips around your clit, sucking harshly, moaning whenever you gasped out his name.

“She’s close, Barnes.” Sylvie did not need to say it, but hearing it made you moan louder.

“That’s a bit too loud, honey,” she mumbles before turning your head and crashing her lips onto yours in a messy kiss.

The kiss combined with Bucky’s mouth sent you over the edge, your body exploding in pleasure. Sylvie pulls away and runs her thumb over your lip.

“Such a good girl. That felt good?”

You nod, not trusting your voice. Sylvie smiles, leaning in to kiss your cheek, then the other. She trails wet kisses back to your lips and licks into your mouth.

“Am I going to get something now?”

You pull away from the kiss to look at Bucky, still on his knees, his cock still frustratingly hard.

“Don’t give us an attitude, Barnes. You’ll get your turn when we feel like it. Go sit on the chair,” Sylvie motions to the desk chair and Bucky begrudgingly takes a seat.

Even though he looks a little annoyed, he’s truly loving this. Loving that you were finally getting to do things with Sylvie...loving that he was making you feel good...and now...loving to watch.

“Can he touch himself?”

You ask, as if reading his mind.

“Your choice, flower.”

“Beg for it, Bucky.” Sylvie is surprised at your tone, but she smirks, looking expectantly at him.

“Let me touch myself, please. ‘M achin.”

His voice breaks a little and you can’t tell if he did it on purpose or not, but it does send a jolt of pleasure throughout your body.

“Go ahead.”

“But don’t cum,” Sylvie warns and she rids herself of her shorts and underwear. Bucky follows suit, taking his trunks off and grasping his cock in his hand.

“Do you want to touch me, honey?”

You nod and she points to the ground. Settling between her legs, your lips ghost over her clit. You look up at her.

“Spit on my cunt,” she says.

Bucky groans behind you and you have an urge to look at him.

You let your spit dribble onto her pussy, maintaining eye contact with her. It’s just now that you remember how insane this was, how bad it may be, but it’s felt so good.

Using your fingers, you spread the wetness on her cunt, smiling to yourself at the little noises she’s trying to keep hushed.

You prod one finger at her entrance, then slowly ease it in, locking your lips onto her clit. You suck lightly at first, trying to build up her release.

“You see how good she is at this, Barnes? Bet you want her lips on your cock, hm?”

You can’t see exactly how he responds, but you do catch a hurried curse under his breath and a wet slick of him stroking his cock.

You add another finger, Sylvie’s thighs squeeze against your head.

You curl them in sync with the sucking on her clit until she’s moaning your name and riding out her high. She bends down to kiss you, groaning at the taste of herself.

“Please let me fuck her,” Bucky whines and you both turn to look at him. He’s completely naked and flushed, his cock resting against his abdomen.

“Seems like he learned his manners,” Sylvie whispers to you, making you giggle.

“How do you want her, Barnes?”

Bucky contemplates, then stands up. He helps you up from the ground.

“Want her from behind,” he says, a low rasp in his voice.

“Do you want that, flower?”

You smile and jump on the bed, positioning yourself on your hands and knees.

You wiggle your ass a bit at him and Sylvie playfully smacks it, causing you to laugh.

“Still can’t cum until we say so,” Sylvie reminds him and then turns to you, “but you could cum whenever you want, honey.”

With that, Sylvie sits back at the desk chair to watch.

Bucky holds his cock by the base and rubs the tip up and down your cunt.

“You’re so fucking wet,” he growls, coating his dick in your wetness. You whine as he keeps teasing the tip at his entrance.

A few more strokes and Bucky pushes into you.

You both moan and Sylvie shushes the two of you.

“Please do remember there is a party going on,” she says and Bucky takes a moment to control himself.

The way you clench around him as he pushes himself into the hilt was enough to send him over the edge. But he held that back, focused on making you cum as quickly as possible.

He grips your hips as he steadily pulls out, then glides back in, creating a smooth rhythm. The sound of skin slapping and your short gasps fills the room.

“Spank her a little, Barnes. Not too hard though.”

Bucky does so, softly hitting your cheek and almost doubling over at how much you squeeze him when he does it again.

“Fuck, flower,” he grunts, picking up his pace.

You grip at the sheets beneath you and lower one hand to toy with your clit, still sensitive from when Bucky made you cum earlier.

“Talk dirty to her, I think she likes it,” Sylvie comments as Bucky leans down and swats your hand away to replace it with his own.

He rubs even faster circles on your clit.

“Can you feel how deep I am inside you? Bet you’ve been dreaming about this cock for a while yeah? Just like how you’ve dreamt of Sylvie.”

You whine at that, embarrassment threatening to flood in, but that’s quickly taken away when you hear Sylvie say “That’s cute, honey. I hope you dream of me more after this.”

Bucky pounds into you mercilessly, his fingers never letting up until you cry out his name a bit too loud.

He doesn’t seem to care and fucks you through your second orgasm, watching as you try to catch your breath.

“Help her to her knees, Buck.”

Bucky pulls out of you and you let out a small hiss at the emptiness. You’re tired, but you move quickly anyway, resting on your knees on the ground. Bucky’s cock was dripping with you and the little bit of precum that managed to escape.

Sylvie stands beside him, sliding her hand down his chest, then gripping his cock. Bucky throws his head back in a groan.

“Look at her, Barnes. She’s a little whore, isn’t she?”

Bucky moans, both at Sylvie’s words and the look you’re giving him.

“I think she wants your cum…” Sylvie trails off and looks at you.

It’s crazy how you feel like you know what she wants you to do...without her even saying it. You put your hands on Bucky’s thighs, feeling him tremble slightly.

Soon your mouth is open and you stick your tongue out, pleasantly waiting for him.

Sylvie jerks him off faster. What pushes him over the edge is your hand drifting up from his thigh to cup his balls.

His cum spills out of him, most of it landing on your tongue, but some onto your cheek as well.

“That’s a lot of cum for her, Barnes. Think she likes it?”

Bucky’s eyes struggle to stay open as he’s riding out his high, but he manages to watch as you swallow what was in your mouth. You wipe the rest of his cum off with your fingers and put them in your mouth, sucking them clean.

“Shit,” Bucky groans and you giggle.

You stand up and reach for your blanket, all of a sudden feeling a little cold completely naked. Bucky joins you on the bed.

“You didn’t really get to fuck anyone,” Bucky directs at Sylvie and she shrugs.

“We can’t spend too much time here. Besides, you both did well, I need to give you a reward next time.”

“Next time?”

You ask and she nods, smiling, leaning in close to you, her lips mere centimeters away.

“Of course, if that’s something you, or both of you want,” she mutters.

Sylvie is about to walk out of the door when Bucky says “I know flower here will definitely want more, you don’t even know how many times she’s told me about wanting to kiss you.”

“Bucky!”

You slap his arm and he cackles, laying back against your bed. Sylvie laughs too and sends you a wink before retreating.

Bucky’s gazing at you when you turn to him.

“What the fuck happened,” he jokes and you shake your head, snuggling onto his chest.

“Dreams came true?”

291 notes · View notes

mymedicine · 4 years ago

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Love and Other Drugs

or, 5k of new bf harry

moodboard/inspo tag + my masterlist

sum - yacht parties are cool and all, but harry really just wants to spend more time with his girl

warnings - alcohol (have I even written a fic where both mc’s are sober the whole time yet lmao), light sexy stuff (lil bit of ch*king k*nk if you squint), swearing probably, harry being a little shit, fluff to the maxxxxx

notes - good lord, this fic has been the absolute death of me. I stg, murphy’s law is real. anyways, the driving home scene is completely inspired by real life events that once made me swoon, but now I am lonely and so so tired so pls be nice to me thx much love <3

“Hold still!”

Harry whined and craned his neck away from his girlfriend’s hand, but he wasn’t able to go far with his back flush against the car door. “No baby, we’re already late!”

“But you’ve got jam on you!” Y/N cried. She reached her fingers up to rub the reddish marks off of his face, but, once again, he turned his head away like a stubborn child. “And we wouldn’t have been late if you hadn’t spent two hours combing your hair.”

“S not jam, it’s lipstick,” He insisted, deliberately ignoring her second (valid) point.

“Whatever. It’s on your cheek.”

Y/N made one final attempt to clean him up, but this time, he managed to escape the circle of her arms. He ran backwards toward the dock, taunting her playfully as he went, “Come on, baby!”

“Harry!” Given no other choice, she frantically pushed the lock button on the car key and chased after her child—er, boyfriend. She winced as her high heels hit the asphalt, feet aching against the gold sandals already. He’d slowed down a little to give her a break, but she was still panting as she yelled, “You can’t go to a fancy yacht party with lipstick on your face!”

He finally stopped running—thank God, because they were right in front of the ship and the last thing Y/N needed was to embarrass herself (or rather, be embarrassed by her man-child boyfriend) within sight of all the famous people that would surely be onboard already.

“But I like it.” He pouted as she reached him, entwining his fingers with hers before she could use them to try to scrub his face again.

Before she could reply, a familiar Irish accent boomed over the loud purring of the boat’s engine, “Harry! Y/N!”

Y/N really hoped someone was keeping an eye on Niall tonight. It was barely dusk and he already looked a little too buzzed to be leaning over the railing on the top deck. She craned her neck up to look at him, giggling to herself at the flush in his cheeks and the blonde mess on top of his head.

“Welcome abooaaard!” He waved far more aggressively than was necessary.

“Happy birthday, Niall!” Y/N yelled back at him, blocking the bright sun with one hand—a hand she discreetly wrestled out of Harry’s.

Harry, too, looked upward and was squinting into the sky. The sun was just beginning its descent into the horizon, and soon the evening would be hanging behind the silvery moon. In the mean time, the sky was bright and painted with delicate strokes of soft pink and peachy orange.

While Harry waved back at his friend, Y/N took advantage of the distraction—and his exposed cheek.

Without warning, she hurled her hand up to his face and swiped at the pink mark as hard as she could.

“Hey!” Harry whipped his head back to her, mock hurt written all over his face.

Y/N flashed him a cheeky, victorious smile. “Got it!”

September in south Florida was as hot and humid as summer anywhere else. Even out at sea, with the cool ocean wind surging throughout the top deck of the yacht, it was plenty warm enough for the guests to enjoy the outdoors.

“H, can you hold my phone and keys in your pocket?”

Harry was standing awkwardly near the railing of the boat, fiddling absently with the plume of lace and chiffon on his black top. He still had a faint reddish mark on his cheek (she wasn’t sure if it was leftover lipstick or just irritated from her rubbing at it) that Y/N, despite the turmoil that had ensued over it, found very endearing. She always thought he was handsome. She had since the first day they met four months earlier. But tonight, he was positively glowing. He shined in the fabulous black number, his skin further brightened by the setting sun and the utter joy coursing through him (the entire flute of champagne he’d already downed certainly didn’t hurt, either).

He took the phone and keys from her while she admired him, happy to help her but not without a smart remark: “You should’ve worn the dress with the pockets, love,” he chastised her playfully, a smirk dressing his berry lips.

Y/N’s eyes widened, “You said you liked the pink on me!”

Choosing her dress for the night had been an ordeal that rivaled even Harry’s complicated hair routine. She’d originally chosen a black long sleeved one with pockets that was comfortable and appropriate and matched Harry’s own all-black ensemble (which he’d had picked out for weeks). Her boyfriend rejected the black dress, pointing out that she’d be hot it in because “It’s practically summer in Miami, love.” Instead, he chose a silky pink number, midi-length and tight in all the right places with a tastefully low cowl neckline. She’d dressed it up with a few gold bracelets and a single pearl earring in her left ear that, to her satisfaction, matched Harry’s. And yeah—it didn’t have pockets, but Harry liked it and it made her feel sexy and that’s all that mattered.

Harry hummed with a tight lipped grin. “Yeah, you’re right,” His tone was innocent, almost regretful as he looked her up and down. The pink sunset behind her was highlighting her figure just right, wind rushing through her hair, exposed skin supple and tempting. Harry was mesmerized by her.

His hands moved on their own accord to gently hold her by the waist. “Your ass looks really cute in the silk…I reckon the color makes your skin glow a bit, too. And matches your makeup, and looks nice with my earring…” He continued spewing some breathy compliments at her, even after she sort of stopped listening when a waiter holding a tray of delectable looking hors d'oeuvres caught her attention.

“Are you even listening to me?”

“Of course, honey,” she replied (mostly) honestly. He was always a mushy little sap for her, but she truly did love the way he appreciated the little things she put effort into. “Thank you for noticing those little details.”

“You’re welcome. Know ya don’ just do it f’me though,” His ring clad fingers drummed against her waist, the metal cold through the thin silky material she wore. “Love that about you.”

Y/N cracked a smile in spite of the nervous shiver washing over her at his words. She couldn’t help but notice it was already the second time he’d said that word since they’d embarked. He was treading dangerously close to the vast, uncharted l-word territory. He’s a little buzzed, she reasoned with herself, despite also knowing it was silly because he’d only had a single champagne. But then again, he was a lightweight—and judging by the way he suddenly dropped her waist to chase down a passing waitress for two more glasses, he wouldn’t be slowing down any time soon. If he told her while he was drunk, would it really count?

He returned to her side, keeping one flute for himself and presenting the other to her. “Thank you, honey,” she said, grasping the stem of it (even though she still had a half full one resting precariously on the railing behind her). It was a fitting nickname for him, she thought. She hadn’t really meant for that to become her little pet name for him, but he loved it just as much as she did. “You’re sweet.”

“You’re sweeter,” her boyfriend hummed happily, “even when you’re checking out that waiter…”

“No! I wasn’t!”

“You kinda were,” He smiled cheekily at her.

“Was not.”

“’S alright, baby. He’s handsome. You’re allowed to have a little look.” But the way he held her protectively by the hip betrayed his words.

“You know I only have eyes for you,” If that wasn’t a hint, she didn’t know what was. “I’m just hungry. He was holding bacon wrapped shrimp, I think.”

“Mmm, me too,” Harry replied, the interaction already forgotten in favor of a savory snack. He tugged on her hand so they could follow that waiter, grumbling as they padded around the crowded deck. “Niall’s a fuckin ass for not serving dinner at an evening party.”

“Oh give him a break! It’s his birthday.” she let him pull her toward the middle where more people were gathered around the bar and admiring the decor—

“Is that an ice scultpure?”

Harry was right. It was a giant clear sculpture of a guitar made entirely out of ice. People were around it, admiring the intricacies and mingling and sipping on expensive looking drinks.

“How long you bet til it melts?”

“Not before Niall accidentally knocks it over,” Y/N laughed and gestured toward the man of the hour, who indeed was stumbling over his feet while trying to maintain a conversation with a group of several strikingly beautiful looking people—models? Probably.

It was obvious that Niall hadn’t planned this for himself. The whole thing was far too elegant and classy. His drunken ramblings were entertaining, sure, but he stood out amidst the black tie formals and live R&B music floating around the large deck of the luxurious vehicle.

Harry chased down the waiter and grabbed shrimp skewers for them both while Y/N continued quietly giggling at Niall’s antics.

Minutes drifted into hours as alcohol, shrimp skewers, and joyful conversation flowed liberally about the deck. Y/N had separated herself from Harry—much to his drunken dismay—to go and mingle with some of the “famous people.” She did it all on her own, confidently striding over and striking up a conversation with anyone worthy of her attention.

“Long time no see, mate.” Mitch’s voice interrupted Harry’s inner thoughts surrounding his girlfriend. He tore his eyes away from her and turned to face his friend, who was standing with his own girlfriend beside him.

“Been busy,” Harry replied.

Sarah’s eyebrows rose as a grin spread across her cheeks. She glanced at Mitch, who wore a matching one.

“You both have been quite busy, yeah?” Sarah cocked her head toward where Y/N was, grin widening along with Harry’s eyes.

Harry hid his smile in his glass, taking a large gulp of the bubbly. “What d’ya mean?” He asked innocently.

“We saw you staring at her, buddy.”

Well, fuck. He can’t exactly deny that. He was indeed watching her as she mingled with a group of people—exceptionally beautiful people. She fit in perfectly with the models, her smile bright and dress shiny, hips swaying tantalizingly to the beat of the drums. She engaged effortlessly in what looked like an exciting conversation with A-listers and held their attention with sweeping hand gestures. Even from across the deck, he swore he could feel her joy. Light just radiated off of her and sent a gentle flutter through his belly and a heat wave through his heart.

Sarah studied him. The way his eyes twinkled and his cheeks flushed with happiness…it was obvious. “You love her.” She deadpanned.

Harry shrugged in response, a knowing smile on his face which he didn’t bother to hide this time.

“You do!” It was Mitch this time, who wrapped an arm around Sarah and looked at her with the same happy smile his friend wore.

“No comment.” A twinge of jealously bit his heart as he watched a handsome brunette lean down to whisper something in his girlfriend’s ear. He frowned instinctively, picturing the man muttering flirtatious compliments or dirty suggestions to her like he should be doing right now.

Sarah continued to watch Harry watch Y/N, unsure if he was even listening anymore. “It’s alright to admit it. Love is a beautiful thing.”

“Don’t listen to her,” said Mitch, “it’s a drug!”

“Hey look!” Harry shouted a distraction, pointing somewhere behind the two of them. He spotted two waiters bringing out an impressive tiered cake swirled with white frosting and topped with those sparkling candles. “It’s time to sing for the birthday boy!”

The boat erupted in a cacophonous rendition of the birthday song as the cake was placed on top of the bar. Night had fallen over the deck, making the sparkly decorations shine blindly bright against the moonlight. Meanwhile, Niall was dancing hysterically among the crowds, even singing along to his own birthday song in a drunken spree. At the final, …to you! he performed a dramatic bow and roared, “Thank you, beautiful people!”

Applause died slowly as Niall began grabbing peoples’ faces to kiss their cheeks in thanks. Y/N looked around for Harry, quite certain that her boyfriend would be perfectly willing to accept a kiss from the birthday boy, especially when he was inebriated. Sure enough, she caught sight of him wrapped up in an embrace with the blonde, a wide smile on his face as Mitch and Sarah laughed hysterically at the interaction.

Harry accepted the cheek kiss, just as his eyes met hers over Niall’s shoulder.

“Y/N!” He screeched and broke the embrace. He started running over to her in an uncoordinated stride, limbs flailing and most definitely spilling alcohol on other peoples’ expensive clothes.

“Y/N!” he slurred, finally reaching her side, “Gimme a kissy!”

She laughed. “You just got kissies from Niall, honey.” “But I want your lipstick on me. Yeh wiped it off.” He frowned deeply, no—melodramatically as his hand cupped his own cheeks where the pink lipstick mark once was.

She called him a little baby but obliged anyways, stamping a firm lip shaped mark on one of his flushed cheeks. He grinned wildly in response and looked at her with that look in his eyes that she absolutely adored. He was looking at her like she was royalty, like she hung the moon and commanded the sea and granted miracles upon mere mortals such as himself.

“Wish I could give you one too…” Harry trailed off, eyes wandering around the room. “Maybe then all those hot models and waiters would leave you alone.”

“Aw, you jealous baby?”

He nodded shamelessly and, with a pouty look, tucked her into his arms. He pressed a series of hard kisses on her cheeks and temples, squeezing the silky pink fabric at her waist. The feeling made her heart squeeze in the most delightful way—chest tight and warm with…with love.

“Wanna go check out the lower deck?”

And Y/N hadn’t known this man too long, but it was long enough to know that he had anything but innocent intentions with his sweet request. She was still only nursing her third glass of bubbly, but Harry’s suggestive stare and wandering hands seemed to ignite the slight heat flowing through her veins into an inferno.

It engulfed them both as Y/N’s back hit the inside of the door to the lower deck bathroom.

Harry’s lips were soft and playful and sexy all at once—just like him. He trailed hot kisses down her cheeks and jaw much like he had earlier, only now there was no audience. No need to hold back. Only hot, sweet skin swathed in pink silk and black chiffon.

“You marked me already, ’s my turn.”

Just when she was feeling a little too sober, Harry’s words drenched her in the heat of desire. This was definitely a bad idea, but it didn’t sound like one when he put it like that.

His fingers slipped from her jaw and followed his lips down to her throat, enticing her with a gentle squeeze—a warning? Or a promise for later? Either way, this bathroom escapade was fucking sliced bread and she was putty in his hands.

He sucked harshly on the supple skin of her neck without warning. A gasp slips out of Y/N’s mouth and Harry’s ringed thumb pressed deeply into the center of her throat in reprimanding. His other fingers gripped the crook of her neck, just enough to make her head spin and keep her body pliant.

Meanwhile, his other hand slithered down the smooth silk to her waist, his hold on her heavy and warm. Harry’s swollen lips retracted from her bruised neck, not before pressing a few gentle pecks to the hickeys to soothe the pain.

Y/N felt dizzy with pleasure and enveloped in love. She couldn’t help but chase his lips for a few more desperate kisses as he pulled away from her neck. She suddenly wished she could admire the marks he’d left, but the glazed, hungry look in his eyes would definitely suffice. The little bathroom felt ten degrees warmer—leaving Harry looking hot and flushed and absolutely irresistible.

“You okay, baby?” Harry whispered in the tiny space between them, words slightly slurred and dipped in bliss.

Y/N nodded aggressively, letting her hands wrap around the back of his neck where his skin was hot and hair curled adorably. “Please kiss me again.”

He did as he was told, of course. His lips moved tenderly with hers and his hands trailed lower, gently caressing her waist and hips. His fingers started a course back up to her ass, this time taking the fabric of her dress with them.

Y/N’s head felt light as a feather, no thoughts besides Harry…Harry’s hands…Harry’s lips…Harry…

She curled her thighs around his hips and he responded effortlessly, hoisting her up by the backs of her thighs and pressing taut between the cold bathroom wall and his own hot chest. The temperature in the room seemed to rise impossibly then, the sounds of breathy moans and gentle sucking kisses seamlessly diffusing into the heat and surrounding them in a delightful symphony.

Y/N was thrilled by the way Harry’s tongue tasted like champagne—as sweet and plushy as always. She decided then that she would never get tired of the feeling of his mouth on hers, of the dizzying joyful feeling his lips gave her every single time.

“Harry…honey…”

“What ’s it pretty girl?”

The pet name in his raspy accent went straight to her core. She let out another shameless whine, squeezing his waist tighter with her legs.

“I need you, Harry…”

“Hm? Need what?”

She groaned—now he wanted to be a tease. After he’d gotten to give her the hickeys like he wanted.

“Harry, please.”

“‘M just messing, pretty girl. I know what you ne—“

Suddenly, a loud crash rang out in the little cabin. Y/N let out a screech and sprang away from Harry, landing awkwardly on her stiletto heels. Wide eyed, she and Harry both looked up toward the source of the sound. Muffled shouts followed, in the midst of a horrible shattering sound, like broken glass, or hail or—

“The ice sculpture!”

They were both wide eyed and panting and a little sweaty, hair tousled and lips swollen red.

“Oh shit,” There were more muffled shouts and some shuffling of feet above them. Even through the ornate ceiling of the bathroom, it was clear there was an ordeal going on up there.

Breathy pants lingered between them, and the room suddenly felt even smaller, even more swelteringly hot and stuffy. Of all things to ruin the heat of the moment…a fucking ice sculpture.

They looked at each other blankly, as if to say what the hell do we do now?

“Let’s head back up while everyone’s distracted.” It was Harry’s alcohol-induced idea, cooked up in his foggy brain.

“There’s no way we can go back to the party like this.” Y/N gestured between them—the sweaty foreheads, messy hair, skin dotted with hickeys, and most prominently, her boyfriend’s obvious arousal.

Harry sighed, glancing down at himself. “Let’s leave then.”

“What, you wanna swim home?”

Harry frowned, “Huh?”

“We’re on a fucking boat, dumbass.”

Harry looked away from her with wide eyes and burning cheeks. Right…Absently, he thought it was funny how she could go from making out with him against the wall of the bathroom, practically begging for more, to mercilessly making fun of him, all within seconds. His thoughts bled into his expression, a happy smile tugging on his lips as he thought about her and her unparalleled sex appeal and her cute laugh and her mock insults and her more and more.

And just like that, he was laughing. His wild laughter seemed to echo in the small bathroom. Despite their hot rendezvous being rudely interrupted, Y/N swore she could smell the happiness in the room—almost as poignant as the champagne on his breath.

Seconds later, she couldn’t help but join him in happy laughter.

Turns out, the fallen ice sculpture was even more of a hazard than they’d initially realized—so much so that the captain of the yacht demanded an early return to shore and a continuation of the party on land. Many patrons were disappointed by the early end to the yacht cruise, not including the birthday boy himself, who Y/N would be surprised if was still walking at this point.

As they sailed back toward the shore, Harry was nursing yet another flute of champagne while Y/N clung to him in the boat’s interior—half because she wanted to cover his erection from any passerbys, and half because she just really wanted to hold him. He’d also managed to produce a slice of cake on a porcelain plate, which he’d presumably snagged when he left her on the couch to find more alcohol.

“You look cute,” she mused at him while he chewed the forkful of cake she’d just slid into his mouth. She was sideways in his lap, bare feet rested on the arm of an expensive looking couch. She vaguely realized that this area of the boat was probably off limits for guests, but fuck it, she thought, no harm no foul.

“Hm?”

“I said, ‘you look cute.’” Y/N repeated. He really did look cute like that, with his face flushed and hair messy and a tinge of lipstick still lingering on his cheek.

“Oh yeah,” he mumbled with frosting still between his teeth, “I heard you the first time.”

“Oh my god, you’re so annoying. I take it back.”

“You can’t take it back!”

She gathered another forkful of cake and brought it up to his lips, “I just did.”

“Fine then,” He said, “I’ll just toss you overboard. Out of sight, out of mind.”

At that, Y/N gasped. She quickly turned her hand away and brought the cake into her own mouth, licking her lips for extra impact.

“Noooo!” He held her by the hip and dragged her even closer to him, as if she were about to get up and actually go overboard and take the cake with her. “I’m sorry baby, you’re cute, too. So cute. Like, so cute that I can’t believe you like me.”

Like? I think I more than like you.

“I can’t believe it, either.”

The words were on the tip of her tongue, dancing around in the tiny space between their lips like electricity. Harry leaned forward and kissed her tenderly, sucking on her bottom lip as if trying to pull them out of her.

Yet again, they were interrupted. This time by a loud horn blare and the captain’s voice over the intercom. “Land, ho!”

“Finally.” Harry sighed in relief, already trying to stand up from the couch, “Can you take me home now, please.”

“We can’t just leave when the party’s still going! What about Niall?” Y/N pressed her hands against his chest to slow him down.

“Niall won’t remember a damn thing.”

She considered his words. He wasn’t wrong; Niall had already knocked over the ice sculpture, after all.

“Take a left here,”

“Here?”

“Ye—wait, no.” Harry slurred, shaking his head from the passenger seat.

But his girlfriend had already turned the wheel to the left, inevitably sending the car in the wrong direction, again.

“Shit, M’ sorry baby.” he said with a drunken giggle.

“Good lord Harry…”

She threw the car into a random driveway, grumbling as she executed a clumsy K-turn.

She could hear the cranky frown in Harry’s voice as he groaned, “You’re a shit driver.”

“Well you’re a shit navigator!” Y/N looked over and gave him a pointed look. But the look only fell on his droopy, half-open eyes. “Where the fuck do I go?”

A beat of silence passed as Harry’s head lolled around. He hummed a bit, imitating the low rumble of the car’s engine. Finally, he murmured, “Keep goin’ straight.”

“Are you sure?”

He didn’t reply, just turned to look at her with that mischievous drunken smile.

“Aw fuck, no. We passed it up.”

“Harry!” She couldn’t help but laugh. Despite her annoyance, his antics were amusing. “Are you sure you actually know where you live?”

“Of course I know where I live!”

Y/N sped into another middle-of-the-road U-turn, and Harry dramatically fell into her lap with a low yell.

“Slow down, you minx! Gonna get us killed!”

“You’re so dramatic, Harry. If you’d just tell me where the fuck you live!”

“Can’t remember.”

She craned her head up to ceiling, letting her own eyes fall shut as she inhaled her frustration.

“Okay, fine. It’s that blue one over there.” He gestured vaguely to the right, but it was too dark to see the colors of the houses anyways.

Y/N let out her deep breath, “Somehow I don’t believe you.”

His growing smirk gave him away. After only a few seconds, his foggy brain would not allow him to contain his giggles.

“Harry!” she whined. He was always kind of silly and clingy, but the excessive alcohol made him an actual baby. He was still laying in her lap over the center console.

“Why are you like this?”

He pouted, feigning hurt. “Maybe I just wanna spend more time with you.”

Y/N’s fingers loosed on the wheel. She slowed the car to a stop against on of the curbs in the quiet neighborhood, poised under the soft light of a street lamp. Her annoyed expression softened and the familiar urge washed over her—the urge to kiss his cheeks and tell him she loved him and squeeze him tight and never let him go. How could one person be so annoying yet so fucking adorable?

She pushed his hair back (not without thinking about how he would’ve scolded her for messing it up at the beginning of the night when he had been sober, but now he was far too drunk to care) and wrapped an arm around his neck. It was definitely an awkward position and Harry couldn’t have been comfortable like that, but he didn’t seem to mind. He held her arm in both hands and snuggled into her lap as she cooed at him. “Aw, baby. You could’ve just told me.”

“But we’ve only been together for a little bit…and I don’t want ya to get sick of me.”

“Could never get sick of you, honey. Not even if I wanted to,” she said earnestly, continuing to stroke her fingers gently through his curls.

“Really?”

Now if that wasn’t a hint…this man was even stupider than she thought. In spite of his endearing idiocy, Y/N still could not resist the urge to just love him.

The idea that he could possibly love her back crossed her mind several times, especially in the past few weeks.

But they’d only been officially for a month and a half…was it too soon? Would she scare him off? Was there some unwritten rule of love to wait until they’d at least seen each others’ homes? Although, if she did tell him now, Harry was so drunk he may not even remember. If it went horrifically wrong, maybe she could forget it happened. (No, she definitely would not ever be able to forget if that happened, but the lie comforted her a little nonetheless). But if it went well, she’d be more confident telling him again when he was sober tomorrow. And at last, she didn’t even think she could hold the words in for another second while he was cuddling into her and kissing her arms like a baby kitten.

“I love you, Harry.”

“You do?!”

Suddenly, he seemed alarmingly sober.

“Ugh, yes. How could I not?”

He looked appalled, really. As if the idea of her loving him was absolutely insane. “Well, I annoy you, I kiss you in public, I drink too much, I spend way too much time on my hair, I’m not as handsome as that waiter…”

“And you’re pretty stupid.” Y/N interrupted with her own addition to the growing list.

“Yeah, you’re right. I am pretty dumb…But,” he paused, flipping over in her lap to look her in the eyes, “I did get one thing right.”

“What’s that?” She asked, fondly stroking his gelled hair with trembling hands.

“Falling in love with you.”

And loving him was that easy, as easy as sipping champagne and eating cake and falling overboard. She loved his flamboyance, his confidence, his kindness. She loved his silly tattoos and his bunny teeth and the little scar under his chin and the faint lipstick stain on his cheek. She loved the way they teased each other like children. She loved the way his mouth felt against hers. She loved the way he adored her. And so, she couldn’t help but smile wide.

“Alright, let’s add you’re super cheesy to that list, too…”

thanks for reading! please reblog if you enjoyed <3

feedback is welcomed, encouraged, and highly appreciated!

#harry styles one shot #harry styles x reader #harry styles writing #harry styles smut #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #boyfriend!harry #yacht!harry #harry styles #my writing #i know shes a lil babie one shot but please be nice i have slaved over her

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reinerispretty · 4 years ago

Text

beneath the moon. (sokka x f!reader) pt1

hello and welcome to my new fic :) i hope u have enjoyed urselves and i hope u like it!! thank u very much for reading!! pls share if u can but no worries if u can’t :)

pt2

Y/N) let out a gasp, her breath clouding in the chilly air. She had heard rumors of the return of the Avatar, an Air Nomad boy who travelled around on the back of a flying bison. She had never anticipated that they were true.

“Early morning, rise and shine!” A hard hand pounded at the bedroom door.

(Y/N) groaned in her bed, turning over and covering her head with a pillow. The servant outside sighed. “You have to get up, Princess. You have lessons today.”

She opened her eyes and stared at the white walls ahead of her. Bare and bleak. She tossed her blankets to the side and quickly pulled on her warmest fur robe and slippers before padding down the hall to the washroom.The servants had readied a tub of hot water for her. She inhaled the steam as she set herself inside and let the servants begin their work. They scrubbed every inch of her body, even the bottoms of her feet (and it took every ounce of her strength not to kick one of them in the face), and combed and washed her hair. They pulled it back into her usual style of two braids and dressed her in her warmest navy-blue coats. One of the servants smiled at her as she tied her into her garments.

“It’s cold today,” the woman said. (Y/N) gave her a tight smile but didn’t speak. The servant’s own smile fell. She must be new, (Y/N) noticed, because she tried to talk to her. (Y/N) hadn’t spoken all morning, and it was rare if she did. In the past she had been labelled as a difficult child, so she decided it was easier if she just didn’t speak to the servants. She rarely spoke to anyone, really.

She was escorted to her healing lessons once she was finished getting dressed. (Y/N) was the only waterbender in her family, so healing lessons were the only duty that took up the majority of her time. She sat in the hut quietly, like always, did her work, received good marks, and then left. After her lessons, she was free to do whatever she pleased. But there wasn’t much to do at all, so she walked around the city.

Sometimes she watched Master Pakku train his pupils. She chose a spot on top of one of the highest buildings, with a good view, where she wouldn’t be seen. Her body itched to try the moves the boys were learning but it wasn’t allowed. Doing so could possibly get her banished from her tribe, and while she didn’t enjoy life there, she had nowhere else to go. So, she chose to watch instead. After watching, she walked around the canals. She greeted the people she encountered with a solemn nod of her head. (Y/N) was the serious one. No one tried to engage her in pleasantries and she was thankful for it.

“(Y/N)!” A voice shouted as she walked down the icy sidewalks. She sighed, stopped, and turned around to face the source of the voice. Hahn skidded to a stop in front of her, a bright smile on his face.

(Y/N) didn’t like Hahn. In fact, she detested him. When they were children, he would push her around when they were playing games and pull on her hair. He’d call her names and whenever she tried to bring it up to anyone, they would shrug and give her the average, “Boys will be boys,” answer. She knew it wasn’t right, how their tribe idolized Hahn, and she knew he certainly didn’t deserve it.

“Did you hear the good news?”

“No, but I have a feeling you’ll tell me.”

“Your feeling’s right. Yue accepted my proposal. We’ll be married sometime after her sixteenth birthday.”

She felt the anger rising inside of her but kept her expression calm. She turned back around and continued on her walk. Hahn followed and walked in stride with her.

“I take it my sister has had a continuous lack of judgement.”

“What do you mean?” When she didn’t answer, he shrugged. “I’m psyched to be married to the Chief’s daughter. Does this mean I’ll be chief one day?”

(Y/N) stopped once again and turned to face him. “Hahn, believe me when I tell you that I’d rather choke on a thousand sea prunes than ever let you be chief.” He scoffed.

“Just goes to show I picked the right sister.” He walked right past her, his shoulder bumping into hers and knocking her off her balance. Once she had righted herself, she headed in the direction she had come. Back to their igloo, where her family would be getting ready for dinner.

(Y/N) stormed through the igloo to find her family was already getting ready to eat their meal. Her mother looked up at her and smiled brightly. “(Y/N)! We weren’t sure if you were going to be joining us today. I’m glad you could make it.”

She ignored her mother and instead faced Yue directly, whose eyes were downcast as she stared at her plate of food. “You’re marrying him?” She demanded. “Out of all the men in this tribe, you pick the dumbest, most insufferable--”

“Hahn proposed to me,” Yue said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I said yes.”

“For what reason? You could have literally any guy in this tribe, Yue, but you say yes to Hahn? A walking pile of sea sludge?”

“(Y/N), that’s enough,” Her father said, his voice stern. She sat down at the table but made her mood obvious as she aggressively reached for the food the servants had laid out. “I won’t have you disrespecting your future brother-in-law.”

“The only thing that’s disrespectful is that Yue’s marrying him,” (Y/N) grumbled. Yue slammed her hand on the table.

“Why do you have to question every decision I make?”

“Why do you continue to make stupid decisions?” (Y/N) knew she had gone too far as soon as she said it, but it was too late. Yue excused herself from the table and exited the room, leaving an icy chill in the air in her absence. (Y/N) prodded at the noodles on her plate. She had lost her appetite.

“You need to apologize to Yue,” Her father said as he took a sip of wine. “Your words were not very kind.”

“They were the truth,” (Y/N) sighed. “Why does she have to marry him, Father? He’s horrible.”

“Hahn is a strong boy who is well-respected in the tribe. We need someone like that to help your sister when your mother and I are gone.”

“She has me.” (Y/N) stood and excused herself from the table. She walked to Yue’s room only to find the door had been shut. She gave it a weak knock. “Yue? Can you hear me?”

“Go away,” Her sister said from inside. (Y/N) frowned. Her voice had been jagged and watery. Yue was crying, and (Y/N) was the one who made her. So (Y/N) did what she was told and walked down the hall to her own room. She could apologize to Yue in the morning.

It hurt her to know that she had made her sister cry. It hadn’t been her intention at all, it was just that sometimes her words of care came out wrong. Yue may have been her older sister, but ever since she was born, (Y/N) had always felt a strong need to protect her. Yue was the kindest person she knew, which resulted in a lot of people trying to take advantage of her. (Y/N) wouldn’t allow it. She stood at Yue’s side always to make sure that no one approached her for the wrong reasons. Being the princesses of the tribe meant that it was hard to determine who was actually trying to be nice to them and who was searching for something to gain. (Y/N) had developed the skill of judging others’ intentions a long time ago, but Yue always tried to see the good in people.

That is why (Y/N) was so angry when she found out Yue had accepted Hahn’s proposal. She knew her sister didn’t care for that idiot, but she also knew that Yue cared deeply for the tribe. She would do whatever she could to protect it, even if it meant marrying the worst person ever.

(Y/N) changed out of her day clothes and undid her braid. She sat in front of her mirror and brushed out her hair before climbing into bed. She stared at the ceiling of the igloo for what felt like hours.

She wasn’t sure when she had fallen asleep, but (Y/N) sat up quickly when she heard the horn. Horns meant something was happening, something exciting. She hopped out of bed and ran to Yue’s room, not even bothering to put on her robes, but her sister was nowhere to be found. (Y/N) pursed her lips and made her way to the tallest part of the igloo. It was slippery and required some skilled climbing, but (Y/N) was no stranger to the task. She sat atop the rounded portion and watched as a flying bison and three travelers landed inside the wall of the city.

(Y/N) let out a gasp, her breath clouding in the chilly air. She had heard rumors of the return of the Avatar, an Air Nomad boy who travelled around on the back of a flying bison. She had never anticipated that they were true. Living in an area as secluded as the Northern Water Tribe, all people did was make up rumors to keep themselves entertained. She had heard enough about herself to last a lifetime.

(Y/N) felt her mind race as she tried to anticipate the days’ events with the addition of the Avatar. It was Yue’s birthday today, so a great feast had been planned. She only hoped that the Avatar and his friends would be in attendance.

(Y/N) slid down the side of the igloo and went back inside, where the servants instantly bombarded her with warm clothes and hot teas. “Are you crazy?” One of them asked as they led her to the washroom. “It’s your sister’s birthday and you’re trying to catch a cold?”

(Y/N) exhaled a breath out of her nose, but let them say as they pleased as they began preparing her for the day. She had learned a long time ago how to drown them out. Usually they weren’t talking to her, but at her, so there was no need for her to even speak.

As she stepped out of the warm water, a chill traveled up her spine, lifting the hairs at the nape of her neck. It was different than the normal cold air that came with living here. This wind seemed like it brought change.

---

Tag List!!

@beifongsss , @aimee1602 , @musicalkeys , @aroyaldarknessblr , @mdgrdians

#atla #the last airbender #sokka x reader #zuko x reader #aang x reader #sokka #katara #aang #toph #zuko #azula #iroh #suki #momo #appa #writing #fanfiction #i posted this at 3:26 am eastern why am i like this

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nicka-nell · 4 years ago

Text

Prompt Event

Request: anonymous - for the prompt event ,,, 44 & 46 w yamaguchi??? like friends w benefits to lovers bc yamaguchi gets jealous that youre talking to another guy ??? (afab reader pls hehe) oh and nsfw please!!!

Prompt Event | Masterlist (coming soon)

Pairing: Yamaguchi Tadashi x reader

Words: 3.896

Warning: nsfw, 18+, blow job, kind of rough sex?

Promots:

44. Isn’t it obvious? I’m in love with you!

46. You were always more than just a one night stand to me.

His warm cum runs down your throat as you milk his cock, when the painful twitch presses against your inside. With a loud pop, Yamaguchi pulls you by your hair away from his member, looks into your eyelashes sticking together with tears, his breath still raspy.

“Happy birthday, Yams.” You say something out of breath when you open a bottle of water that you drink to flush the last bit of sperm left in your mouth down and give him a fleeting kiss. “When is the party?” You ask after you wipe away the drops of water at the corner of your mouth with your forearm.

“In an hour.” He answers you as he throws himself with his upper body back off the bed and looks at his cell phone, where the first congratulations are already adding up. “Well, then I still have time to shower, I’ll be right back.” You answer casually as you pack your bag with the change of clothes and go into the bathroom.

You two have been friends for a long time, have always understood and respected each other as neighbors. You were always there for each other, even when your former boyfriend had left you, when you had cried out to Yamaguchi, and were happy to have him as your best friend.

But that night, he wasn’t just your best friend. No, the grief and his affection made you kiss him, made him return your kiss, and before you knew it, your normal friendship became a friendship with benefits.

Yet you had made rules. Everything was allowed, a hand job or blowjob, licking, kissing, kinks, everything but no sex, because this would not end well.

But one evening, when you had a terrible date, you had a little too much to drink with Yamaguchi, forgot about each other and did not follow the rules, because you slept together. And it was really wonderful.

Yamaguchi was truly talented with his tongue, but that he is also so incredibly good at sex? You didn’t expect that. He was like a servant who had done everything for his goddess, who had so delighted and adored you, that you could think of nothing more than him.

And as in all the movies, all the shows, you should have known that sex without love is not so easy. That there is always someone who develops feelings. But you’re just friends.

Thoughtfully, you dry your hair before you get dressed and walk out of the bathroom. From below, you already hear voices, wishing Yamaguchi all the best for his birthday, while his joyful laughter echoes through the hallway.

Slowly you also go down the stairs, seeing many unknown faces, until you see a familiar person and approach him. “Hi Tsukki! So, did you give Yams the same as last year?” You giggle as you slap the big blond man on the back.

Annoyed, he looks down at you as he looks down the stairs from which you came down. “And you? Did you give him what you give him every week?” He smirks as you stick your tongue and fold your arms.

“I don’t know what you mean, I haven’t given Yams his present yet.” You sigh when you think of the gift in your pocket. It’s a little box you both made when you were little. You once saw a movie where a few friends put their favorite things in a box, buried it, and dug it up again after ten years.

These 10 years are now around and you were sure that Yamaguchi had already forgotten all this, yet you hope that he remembers it and is happy about his present.

Although Yamaguchi is busy welcoming the guests, his gaze always wanders to you and his best friend. He watches you, looks at you, how you talk to Tsukishima, how he behaves himself, and also how he acts around you.

He’s not worried about you or Tsukishima. You two are his best friends. You once told him that Tsukishima is just a friend for you, and Tsukishima also sees you as a friend rather than a person he would love at some point.

“I’m going to get a drink, do you want some too, Tsukki?” You ask him as your legs already make the first steps to the kitchen. But Tsukishima only shakes his head. “Even if I did, I wouldn’t have my drink brought by a dwarf like you.”

“As friendly as ever.” You laugh at him, already averted from him, as you stretch your middle finger upwards and go into the kitchen. You still smile about Tsukishima, not noticing the man in front of you, who turns around and suddenly pours his drink on your pretty dress.

You both flinch as your eyes meet, when you notice how the dark-haired man turns reddish. His eyes match his hair, are just as dark, while his smile is warm and friendly. “I’m terribly sorry, I didn’t see you. I’ll pay for the cleaning.” He is a little hesitant when he turns around and reaches for a kitchen towel to give it to you.

He spins another time around to take a second towel and wipe the floor dry before picking up the cup and waiting for your answer. But you only smile at him after you’ve dabbled away most of the moisture.

“You could just tell me your name. That would be enough for me, stranger.” With your words you jump on Yamaguchi’s large marble kitchen island, swinging your legs back and forth playfully.

“My name is Ennoshita Chikara. May I ask who the delicate woman before me is? Who would rather have my name than the cost of cleaning this lovely dress?” He smiles, embarrassed, but you recognize this slight mischievous undertone in his voice.

With the index finger you wave him closer to you, and notice that his looks land again and again on your almost naked thighs, which have become visible by the sliding up of your dress. “You must speak louder. I don’t understand you, Ennoshita.”

Your words make him nervous, but pull him under your spell at the same time, so he takes another step towards you until he stands in front of you, putting his hands almost naturally on your thighs, as he repeats his words.

His hands are soft, lie warm on your skin, yet don’t fill you with the warmth you usually feel. “I’m L/n Y/n. And if you want, I can give you my number, then we can talk again about the cleaning costs for this dress, which is so pretty for you.” You whisper to him as you reach out and tell him to give you his phone.

With shaky hands, he reaches his cell phone out to you, almost afraid to say anything when you type in your number and give him the phone back.

“Tell me, Tsukki, do you know where Y/n is?” Ask Yamaguchi, who lost sight of you with Hinata’s joyful congratulations. “I don’t know, she wanted to get a drink, but apparently she can’t find the fridge, because she’s still gone.” Hisses the tall man who is still annoyed by all the people in the hallway.

With an unwholesome feeling, he walks along the hallway to the kitchen, which suddenly seems infinitely long. Just to see through the door gap that you’re standing in the kitchen with his former school- and teammate Ennoshita.

Your cheeky smile, which you always throw to Yamaguchi before you both enjoy your togetherness. How he touches your skin, which he likes to feel in his hands, while his head buries between your legs as you moan loudly his name.

“Ah, here you are, Y/n. Can I talk to Y/n alone? We need to talk about something for Tsukki’s birthday present. You know, which we gave him a few weeks ago.” Stops you Yamaguchi’s voice from talking to Ennoshita further.

For a moment, he smiles at the dark-haired man before turning to you. His view is now cool and distant. “Oh, sure. We’ll see or hear each other soon L/n. See you.” Ennoshita says goodbye to you, before he passes Yamaguchi, who then closes the door and walks past you to go to the fridge.

Without even saying a word, he pulls a water bottle out of the fridge, fills a glass and puts a few ice cubes in before he turns around and takes a sip. “So you and Ennoshita. Do you like him?” he wants to know, even if his tone is bored.

“Yeah, he is a kind of sweet and a nice guy.” You’re shuffling when you think about that dark-haired man you saw earlier. “Mhm.”, “What’s wrong, Yams? Are you jealous or something like that?” You’re almost smiling at him with that serious look he’s trying to suppress. If only he knew...

But he just frowns, puts his glass next to you on the kitchen island, but tries to escape your gaze. “Why should I?”, “Maybe you don’t want to share me with others?” You giggle as you press your black high heels to his chest. Almost surprised by your own action.

Angry, he closes his eyes to slits as his gaze wanders along your body, up to your face. Why are you being so hard on him today? Wearing the shoes he told you he loved most about you, his absolute favorite dress, which he once gave you because he was convinced that you look stunning in it. And damn it, you looked more than breathtaking.

“You said yourself we’re just friends, so I don’t care to whom you make your willing hole available.” He hisses when he pushes your leg off his chest and wants to turn around.

You’d never seen him so angry. Such hurtful words that directly affect your inner, you had never heard of him before. Instinctively you reach for his wrist, prevent him from turning around and pull him to you, so that he stands between your legs, you still on the counter.

His body pushes your legs further apart so that your dress slips up a bit and your panties blink out. Even his favorite panties you wear, and he’s sure that your bra will match this one. Angry he tries to pinch his teeth together, doesn’t understand why you make yourself so pretty when you’re just looking for a new guy, almost as if he’s no longer enough for you.

Like he’s not good enough anymore, and you throw him away, swap him out like a substitute player in volleyball. It was like that before, if he hadn’t done his best, he was replaced right away. But he was aware of his role in volleyball, only with you he was unsure, did not know what role he played for you.

“I’m sorry, Yams.” You whisper to him as you put your arms around his neck and give him a hesitant kiss. But Yamaguchi shies away, doesn’t understand what’s going on. He’s angry because you’re playing with his feelings, even though you probably don’t do it on purpose.

After all, you said you were just friends, so it’s not your fault he has feelings for you. You can do whatever you want, because you’re not a couple. “What? That you throw yourself like a bitch in heat at the next guy you run into?” The words suddenly fall loudly out of him, and immediately after he has pronounced them, he regrets them.

With persistent breath he seeks your gaze, wants to apologize to you, but he falls silent when he sees your pitiful gaze. “I’m sorry I pissed you off. But you know... Only you can make me happy, my good boy.” You giggle as you bend over and cover up these hurtful words with your gaze and your voice. Words that make you cry inside.

But Yamaguchi’s thoughts are unclear, his actions free of his will as the red thread in him, tears when he leans forward to kiss you roughly. With his teeth he nibbles on your lower lip, search the entrance to your tongue to taste it too, before he presses you with a loud groan on the plate of the kitchen island and grabs his hands on your thighs, the place where Ennoshita had his fingers.

“Hey, Tadashi, what are you doing? Somebody could come in any time!” You say, your voice is almost shaking with fear. But that doesn’t bother Yamaguchi at the moment.

When he realizes that you are trying to straighten up, one of his hands moves to your chest, presses you again on the cold plate, and thus prevents you from getting up. His other hand glides over your soft thigh to your panties, he caresses with his fingers.

Full of lust, he looks down at you, observing your facial features every time his finger shoves over the fine lace fabric, along your core and back to your entrance. “Yams… please… someone could see us. Hahh...”

But he doesn’t answer you, just bends down to kiss the inside of your thigh before his fingers push your panties aside and give him a clear view of your already shiny hole. “You seem to like it when I look at your already dripping wet hole. Or is that all that’s left of your dirty thoughts about Ennoshita?”

His husky voice kisses your damp walls before licking over them with his tongue, sucking on your clit as his fingers slowly enter you, spread and explore your inside. His vibrating sound trembles on your walls, Yamaguchi’s tongue makes you bury your hands in his hair, because it makes just the right pressure, just the right movement on your core.

And now that his fingers are inside you, hitting your sweet spot just right, you can’t help but give a pinched moan as you place your juice over his fingers. He still says nothing while he pulls his fingers out of you, inspecting your body as it moves slightly twitching from your orgasm as he licks your delicious juice off his fingers.

Slowly you open your eyes, trying to find clear thoughts again, now that you’re sure it’s over and Yamaguchi has left out his anger. But you’re wrong, and you realize that Yamaguchi’s hands bury in your hip, pulling you off the counter. Your shoes clap as they touch the floor.

“Thank you, but next time you lock the kitchen before we-” Your sentence is sealed by his lips, which, roughly like the waves, crashes on a rock face. Yamaguchi’s hand is firmly in your hair, while the other one frees you from your short dress.

Pull it off your shoulders until it falls to the ground when your skin confronts with the cold air. His fingertips wander under your bra, pulling on the fine band before they open it, and it also leaves your body almost bare.

“Tadashi… What… are you… doing?” You try to ask between your kisses. “What does it look like to you? You were always more than just a one-night stand to me.” His voice is serious, deep, as his eyes look at you piercing.

“Wait! Wait, we said everything but sex!”, “But that’s not enough for me anymore, Y/n!” He adds loudly, and for the first time you see a mixture of despair, anger and fear in him. Your heart beats faster when you begin to understand his words.

But you can’t answer him, because you are suddenly turned over by him, pressed with your chest on the cold plate of the kitchen island as he places himself behind you, kisses your back and at the same time opens his pants with his free hand.

You hear how the coarse denim material lands on the floor, how your body through the cold of the marble top, the warmth of his lips and the tickling of his hair, you lose your mind.

His cock is already rock hard as he rubs it against your butt, distributing his spit on it before he pushes it into you without further preparation. Not that you needed it, because you’re still soaking wet from your orgasm.

“Hahh… Y/n… You feel so good, I missed that so much.” He groans with a shaky voice and buries his hands tighter in your hips, as he pushes your ass firmly against his pelvis again and again, in order to really reach every spot in you. And that’s what he does.

Although he’s not as gentle as last time, he fills you completely, stretches you with a pleasant pain and makes your entire body shake. “Ahh Tadashi! So… so good!” Your whiny moaning makes his dick twitch, makes him smile, as a disgusting sound tears him out of this dreamlike event.

Annoyed, he looks to the side until he sees your phone on which an unknown number lights up. It can only be the number of Ennoshita. “Answer it and put it on speaker!” He breathes to you, as he pushes the phone to you and thrusts aggressively into you, almost as if he wants to give you a warning.

With shaky hands, you answer the call as Ennoshita’s voice echoes through the kitchen. “Hi Ennoshita here. I just wanted to call.” Through the phone you can hear his smile, but you can’t answer, as you are sure that you would moan out loud.

“Eh… L/n? Are you on the phone? Can you hear me?” He asks insecurely, when Yamaguchi whispers in your ear that you should answer him. “Yh- Yes hah!” You groan almost out loud, biting your lower lip.

But he doesn’t seem to have heard it, because he just laughs joyfully. “Beautiful! You know, I had to leave quickly because my mother still needs some help. Thanks for giving me your number. Do you have plans after the party? Do you… maybe want to come over?”

You notice, as with his last sentence, Yamaguchi’s speed and especially the hardness of his thrusts strengthen, how they now make the things on the cooking island tremble the same way like your body and you can hardly keep your voice still.

“I’m sorry… ngh… I’m b- busy with Yah- Yams birthday p-party. I’ll ha- c- call you tomorrow. Nhh.... Bye Sh… Ennoshita ah!” You apologize to him before he says goodbye to you, something embarrassed and you hang up.

“Ah fuck! Why, why are you doing this Tadashi haah?” You want to know, as you try to turn to him, but you can’t do it with his grip. “Isn’t it obvious? I’m in love with you!” His words reach you like lightning, make your body tingle differently.

For a moment, you’re trying to process his words, realize what he said. His thrusts are fast and hard, almost as fast as your heartbeat right now. “Yamaguchi wait! Wait! Stop!” You shout at him loudly and with a lot of pressure in your voice as you detach yourself from his grip and turn around.

You look at him completely surprised, and now he also realizes that he had just confessed his feelings to you. “Is that true Yams? Do you really love me?” Your tone is almost broken, quiet and hard to understand, but for Yamaguchi it is louder than ever.

Ashamed, he bites his lip, looks to the ground and nods, barely visible. He is sure to have ruined everything now, but he would not have expected you to approach him and kiss him lovingly. That you press your body against his and bury your hands in his hair.

Full of passion, you look into his dark eyes, which are now getting wider and wider. “Then fill me up. Show me you can make me happy. Show me you can be a bad boy, too.” Stunned, he looks at you. Do you love him too? Because you didn’t reject him.

He’s sure you can hear his heartbeat loud before he jerks you up and puts you back on the counter in front of him. You don’t care if someone could come in or not, you just want to feel Yamaguchi inside you again.

Hastily you pull him to you, bring his hands to your body before you tie your legs to his hip and look for a hold on his back with your hands. Haunting his lips finds yours, as his dick penetrates into you again, he pushes you further against himself and continues where he left off earlier.

Your breath mixes, just as your eyes look at each other hungry, when Yamaguchi brings his lips to your body, caresses your collarbone while his hand plays with your nipple, wraps the other around your hip so you won’t be pushed away from his bumps.

“Oh god Tadashi, so good. You fill me so good! I’m close, hah!” You groan as you notice how the knot in your body slowly contracts. As if you don’t know what to do with your desire, you claw your nails in his back, tilt your head backwards and let the pleasure reign over your body.

“Ah, Tadashi! I- I love you! I always loved you!” You moan, weeping as your vision blurs and your body becomes numb. He carefully lets you down on the plate, still holding you to the hip, but it is difficult for him not to come now.

Because your walls are so tight, tie up his limb and your words that you love him are enough to bring him to orgasm. Sloppy his lips hit yours as he distributes his shots at you, exhausted, slumped on you.

“I love you too, for a long time now.” He then whispers to you as he sticks your hair, which is sweaty on your temples, behind your ear and looks at you with his otherwise unbelievably sweet smile.

You’re overjoyed to be telling him when you first noticed, when the kitchen door opened and you two were looking at the door. Even if you see him standing upside down, you are sure it is Tsukishima.

Shocked, you both look at him while he doesn’t make a face. “Next time, you might want to put some music on for your guests, so they don’t have to listen to you moaning.” Bored, he clicks his tongue as his gaze wanders towards you.

“Really resourceful, your birthday present. As if you guys aren’t doing your weird sex thing every week.” You do not manage to give him an answer, because the door has already closed with a loud bang, only the two of you in the quiet room.

Embarrassed, Yamaguchi scratches the back of the head as he helps you stand up and hands you your dress and underwear. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for this to happen and…. for it to get so awkward.”

But you’re just laughing at his apology. “I regret nothing because you told me you loved me. I don’t care who heard me or who didn’t. As long as you’re the one hearing me the loudest.” Again his eyes become big, his mouth wide and his cheeks red. “Does that mean you want to be together with me?”

“I’d like to be your friend, your girlfriend.” You smile and give him a sealing kiss on the lips before you get dressed and go back to the others.

#haikyuu smut #yamaguchi x reader #yamaguchi smut #haikyuu x reader #nelas500

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greenninjagal-blog · 5 years ago

Note

15 for Anxceitmus pls - Anon 👽

I’ll be honest I’ve had a plan for this one for days but never enough time to sit down and write it. Now lets see how this goes :D

Summary: Virgil steals a taste of a cake that’s not his and ends up poisoned.

Words: 4360

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Read on Ao3 || My General Writing Masterlist || Prompt page

Piece of Cake

“I’m sorry, I know it hurts, but you have to trust me okay?” the voice says.

At least Virgil, thinks the voice says it. He can’t really tell over the noise in his head and burning fire in his lungs and screaming in the background of everything that was going on. He can’t even see really, based on the rush of white and black dots all over his vision like pin needles getting jabbed directly into his eyes as his throat shreds itself apart again and again and again.

He’s not sure what is happening, not sure when he hit the floor or how the world around him compressed into just him or why his entire body seems to be trying to rip itself apart with varying levels of success.

He sure that it hurts.

And that he hasn’t cried like this since he was kid and he fell and hit his head on the cobblestone fountain in the market and there was just...so much blood everywhere and he thought he was going to die back then.

It had just been a bit of icing.

And Virgil can still taste it on his lips between the blood and the salty tears and the vomit. The avocado taste that he hadn’t had since his mother had passed from the plague a decade prior.

The burning in his lungs is agony, like he jumped into the castle furnace and breathed in the cinders for fun. He strains his arms to tear at his chest where the boiling feeling seems to bleed from, but something is holding him down, and he screams, pleads, begs-- anything, just to make it stop. He’s sorry, he’s sorry, he won’t do it again, he swears--

It’s like a white-hot poker being driven between his ribs and twisting, like a dragon’s breath right before those sharpened foot long teeth snap him right in half, like his head had been tilted back and he’d swallowed lava.

He writhes against it, but something has his left arm and his right wrist and there’s a weight on his legs that keep him from moving despite the desperation in his motions. Every inhale moves the flames--and he can’t quite tell if they’re imaginary anymore, surely something imaginary wouldn’t couldn’t doesn’t hurt like this hurts so much so badly he’s sorry sosorrypleasejustmakeitstopplease---

Then, all at once, it’s over.

The fire reels back, flooded by a cold so icy it steals the rest of the breath he had. His limbs feel like lead and they drop to the floor of the kitchen. It’s also mercifully silent, which seems eerily impossible because the Castle is never silent ever. His vision swims like dunking in and out of the river back home when he went swimming with the older kids in the river. Far over head the gaping arches of the room fade in and out of clarity. The hollowness rings faintly in him, followed by an all-consuming exhaustion that peels away the rest of his thoughts.

“Virgil?” Someone says his name.

He almost recognizes them. He should probably recognize them.

There are faces over him, people he knows, but they’re too blurry to make out. All he wants is sleep suddenly. A deep dark long sleep.

“Let him sleep, your highness,” someone else says softer. “He’s okay now.”

And then Virgil’s eyes close and he loses consciousness.

The unfortunate truth of the matter was that Virgil had no reason to be in the kitchen in the first place. He should have been mending that tapestry that the twin Princes had mangled in spontaneous duel last week, or adding the few last details to the new tunic Prince Remus had been instructed him to prepare, or fixing the tear in Prince Roman’s riding cloak, or simply catching up on sleep that he had missed while pressing himself to finish the new Birthday outfits for the Twins Ball at the end of the week.

But as it stood he had slipped from his crafting room to the kitchen in hopes that the Head of the Kitchen would take pity on him like he had done so many times before and offer him some scraps from the feast that was going on.

Some noble had arrived in the early morning and the castle had been abuzz with energy as the King welcomed him. Virgil had already heard several rumors about it, just from lurking on the corner counter out of the way of the scurrying kitchen maids and the servant runners.

“Something about him strikes me as odd,” Patton had admitted to him between cutting up strawberries, helping a maid balance a honey bun tray, and directing a newer servant boy on the proper way to refill a spare goblet. “I didn’t like the look he gave Prince Roman at all.”

And Virgil had snorted at that, swiping a glob of honey from the empty pan before it when to the stack of dirty dishes. “You don’t like any way anyone looks at Prince Roman.” He had pointed out sucking on his index finger.

Patton gave him a disapproving look but waved off his blatant theft. “I don’t know what you mean, kiddo-- Lower Terrance! If you keep trying to pour from that height there’s a chance you’ll miss and stain the table cloth-- I know that he’s an important noble, but the way he was looking at Roman was the way a butcher eyes a piece of meat before he cuts it.”

Virgil swallowed and eyed the cook carefully. “Well, how was he looking at Prince Remus?”

“He wasn’t.”

Virgil frowned, “Wasn’t? He ignored the second Prince?” Which seemed ridiculous on all fronts. First of all, Prince Remus was royalty, and no one ignores royalty, ever. Not even if its 3 A.M. and they send for you to discuss a different pattern for the tunic you were making for them and you barely have time to put on presentable clothes much less brush your hair. Secondly, Prince Remus was impossible to ignore even if you were trying to: between his gaudy outfits and the morning star he kept looped on his belt like a sword and his voice which echoed off the cement at all hours of the day, he stood out wherever he went. His auburn hair and green eyes made him quite the talk of the castle.

Patton wrung his dish cloth between his fingers before going back to slicing strawberries. “Well not at first. He bowed and present Remus a cake. After that Remus was too distracted to really notice anything else.”

Virgil had snuck a strawberry from the pile yet to be cut and pops it in his mouth, chews, swallows and then asks politely, “What about his consort?”

“You mean Dee?” Patton slid a sliced strawberry to the side of the wooden board. Virgil had thought was entertaining that Patton had even asked. Roman didn’t take consorts, and Remus only had one: a man by the name of Dee who had the eyes like butter and a smile too soft. His hair flowed like a golden hay field, and his voice was like a fable siren’s. Virgil hadn’t heard him sing, but he couldn’t imagine that there had ever been an instance where he hadn’t been able to get what he wanted from someone.

Dee was pretty, but in a sense that it was too pretty to be real. Like a snake oil merchant come to sell wares to the naive populace.

But Virgil was biased on all fronts: Dee had always been present when Virgil had need to take measurements of Prince Remus for his new tunic, and every time he’d been summoned after that, watching Virgil’s every move like a predator waiting for the perfect time to strike. Virgil’s hands had shaken so badly he had barely been able to read his own notes later, and even if he tried to tell himself it was the stress, he knew it was because of how delightfully attracted he was to two things that weren’t open for him to even dream about. So, he buried thoughts of Prince Remus’s muscles and of Dee’s breathy laughter and pretended that they didn’t keep him awake at night.

“Dee was impassive, you know,” Patton had said, drawing Virgil from his thoughts, “I’m never able to read him.”

“Not like I can read Prince Roman,” went unsaid, but Virgil could hear it under his words.

“What kind of cake was it?” Virgil had asked instead, because he was a merciful friend and wasn’t about to bother a man about unrequited crushes while he was kick dirt over his own emotions.

Patton had wrinkled his nose. “Avocado! Can you believe it? I’ve never heard of an avocado cake before!”

Virgil blinked. He had glanced towards the end of the counter where the cake had been placed so elegantly. He had been eying it all night, letting his mouth water how good he imagined it might be, but knowing it was avocado? “My mom...she used to make those. They were my favorite.”

“Oh, I know that look,” Patton said, pointing his knife at him, “You know that cake is for the Prince. He already declared that no one but him is allowed to have it, Virge. Even if I wanted to slip you some, that would put both of our necks at risk.”

And Virgil knew that, he did. But it was a large cake. Surely, the Prince couldn’t eat it all by himself.

And frankly he knew enough about the royal family by now to know that absolutely no one else would eat a monstrosity like that. Prince Roman didn’t even like avocados to begin with and had loudly complained the last time Patton had tried sneaking it into a meal.

Was the man really going to miss if Virgil snags just swatch of the icing?

Patton lightly hit his hand. “Don’t,” He warned with that stern voice of his which revealed his years over Virgil.

“I wasn’t!” Virgil lied.

“I’ll toss you out of my kitchen, Virgil.” Patton had told him. “Because I’d rather lose your company for the next few nights than have to watch you be run through for stealing from the crown.”

“It’s a cake.” Virgil whined.

Patton gave him another warning gaze and moved another strawberry around. He had been about to say something else, but at that moment Logan, the resident mage who always chose to stay scarce when there were visiting nobles about the halls, had chosen to flourish down the servant staircase which had appropriately distracted them both. Not that Virgil had been hoping for a distraction.

But who was he to stare a gift horse in a mouth?

Logan had zeroed in on Patton, per usual, causing the cook to blush the same way he did around Prince Roman and Logan had mentioned something about a plant they were attempting to magically grow. Virgil hadn’t really been focusing on the words as much as the fact that Patton’s eyes stayed trained on Logan while he talked.

Virgil had inched down the counter, placing a finger to his lips when Terrance noticed what he was doing. He reached out with on hand and flicked just enough of the icing that he’d get a taste, but not enough to disturb the overall look of the cake. In fact, Virgil was certain no one would even know he took some if they hadn’t seen anything.

“Virgil!” Patton yelled just as he popped his finger in his mouth.

Virgil had stiffened at the sound of his name and whirled back to face a very mad Patton and a surprised Logan. The taste of avocado had hit the back of his throat, which almost made him feel great: it tasted just as earthy as he remembered it being when his mother made it, with just the right bitter aftertaste that made Virgil want more, although he didn’t remember it being quite so prominent--

“That was the Prince’s Cake!” Patton had shouted, “As in Prince Remus! I don’t care if you are in good graces with his highness! That was a stupid- stupid -stupid-- what on earth were you thinking? Virgil--!!”

And that was when Virgil had first felt the burning, like an itch in his throat that had suddenly swept him up. Patton’s voice had faded as he grabbed for his own throat, for his chest, for anything to remove the sudden agony ravaging his body. He had toppled straight off the counter in the middle of whatever else Patton had shouted, taking the cake right down with him.

Because that was just Virgil’s luck that he’d steal a lick of the second Prince’s cake and end up poisoned within an inch of his life.

And to be honest, the price for stealing from the crown in most cases is death, and since Virgil had been pretty sure he was going to die anyway he figures when he closes his eyes that was going to be the end.

He wakes up, with someone carting their fingers through his hair the way his mother used to do, before she had gotten sick and died from that plague that had taken over half their village. His head feels like someone had stuffed cotton between his ears, his throat like someone had forced him to swallow swords. He’s warm, which was a strange concept: usually the servants’ quarters are cool, even in the summer and Virgil’s blankets are never quite been enough to stave off the tendrils of chill that seep into his cot. But here and now? Oh, he’s so warm and comfortable he never wants to move again.

“--want him killed!”

“I know you do, your highness.” Another voice says, a voice that’s closer and more comfortable, “But there’s much more to gain from keeping him alive.”

“That cake was intended for Me!” There is the sound of something shattering, something ceramic, and fancy, and expensive.

Virgil tries to shift, tries to open his eyes, but it’s just so...exhausting. The hand in his hair drags slightly, before restarting softly, more gently than before.

“It’s okay, Love,” the voice over him says softly. “I’ve got you. Go back to sleep.”

Something else crashes. And another. And another.

There are more after that, but Virgil doesn’t remember them.

The next time he wakes, he’s more aware of where he is: he can feel the luxurious goose feather blanket draped over his chest, and how several of the loose feathers tickle his chin with each inhale, can feel the soft pads of fingers dancing through his hair in a way that make him want to relax and drift off again, can feel the coolness of a wet cloth on his forehead that wards off an overheating.

Its comfortable, its perfect.

But there’s never been a perfect thing in Virgil’s entire life.

He shifts, moaning with the effort to get his body to move after so long (?) of stiffness. He hadn’t realized that there had been people talking around him, until the conversation comes to a soft stop and the hand in his hair retracts slightly.

Virgil’s eyes open and he almost believes he’s still dreaming.

He knows where he is, even though he can’t believe it: he’d know the opulent bedframe and those darkened green curtains anywhere; he’d know those grey and silver blankets, and that room shape even if he should have fallen blind with everything else that had happened. He had been in that room far too many times for him to not have known.

He’s in the Second Prince’s room, lying in the second Prince’s bed, under the second Prince’s covers, and the Second Prince’s consort was sitting beside him with his hand in Virgil’s hair and another hold a book he seems to have been in the middle of reading.

“Oh,” Dee, the consort who was far too pretty to be anything other than trouble, says softly. “You’re awake.”

“He’s awake?” The sound of the Prince Remus startles Virgil, although it shouldn’t have. It only made sense that the owner of the room would also be in his own room.

What does not make sense is why that Virgil is there.

“Softly,” Dee says to the Prince without removing his eyes from where he’s staring down at Virgil with an expression that he doesn’t dare put an actual name to. The very idea of it makes the back of Virgil’s mouth sting.

Prince Remus had been across the room, perhaps staring out that large window which he did often while waiting for Virgil to respond to his summons, but he comes to the bed almost before Virgil can form another thought. Virgil tries to sit up, tries to move because this was the Prince and Virgil had already been caught stealing a taste from his cake and he was lucky they did just let him die--

Prince Remus puts a hand on Virgil’s shoulder and lightly shoves him back to the pillows, back to Dee’s side, back down. Whatever strength Virgil thinks he has disappears right out of his limbs.

There’s something strange about the Prince, Virgil notes squinting up at him. Not that there isn’t usually something strange about him; it seemed that every time Virgil was requested to his presence there was something just off about him. Virgil had thought it had been like a tease: something that would stick in his mind while he threaded his needles and cause him to shake his head with fondness. It had seemed that Remus had made a game out of it too, on the rare occasions where Virgil almost asked if he was cultivating some sort of joke, and the Prince had smirked at him and dared him to say something (which of course he never did, because Virgil quite likes his head where it’s attached to his neck, and the feel of Dee’s eyes on made him dangerously aware of his own standing).

But this sort of strangeness was not like the other times. It’s a calmness that encompasses the Prince, much like a still pond moments before a stone plunges into the depths. There’s no extra energy, no mischievous glints, smug crude joke. There’s just Prince Remus, and a seriousness that make Virgil fear for his life.

This is the Prince who could beat most of the military with nothing but his fist and his morning star. This is the Prince who could stare down an invading army and send them running home with just a single threat. This is the Prince who would challenge Death to a duel and make it out with his soul.

There’s a fresh cut across his cheek that hadn’t been there the last time Virgil had seen him, as if he had dodged a blade by mere inches and dismissed the attack as not nearly as worthy of his attention as Virgil somehow was.

“Why did you eat that cake?” Prince Remus asks.

“Re—” Dee says sharply.

The Prince holds up a hand at him, and Dee holds his tongue. “I want to know.”

Virgil suddenly feels like the blankets are constricting, tightening around his torso and his chest like a vice. His body shakes at the very idea of the cake. The mere thought of avocado makes his mouth violently taste like blood and his throat smolders with the threat of pain.

His hands go to his neck, to relive the pressure that’s not really there, but Dee is quicker. The consort catches both his wrists and pins them softly to Virgil’s abdomen with one hand and uses the other to rub tenderly rub Virgil’s cheek.

“It’s okay,” the consort says, in a soothing tone, that makes Virgil want to cry, “Shh, you’re okay now, Virgil.”

“I’m s-sorry,” Virgil chokes out, “S-sorry.”

Whatever the Prince is looking for, he doesn’t seem satisfied. He stands up again, fiercely shoving the bedframe. He takes three steps from the bed and then spins back around with a murderous expression.

“Sorry?” He shouts. “He’s sorry!” He slips his morning star from its hook on his belt and spins to swing it against the wall.

“Remus!” Dee interrupts.

“Shut up!” Prince Remus snarls right back. The sound of metal against the stone walls explodes throughout the room, causing Dee to tense up. Its violent and cold and Virgil hates it, hates that he caused it, hates that he doesn’t know why and he’s too afraid to ask.

Dee shifts like he wants to get up, wants to go to his prince and cup his face to ground him back to a reality before he does something he will regret, but in the end he stays right with Virgil. And Virgil is selfish enough that he’s thankful more than he’s guilty. The sunlight from the windows make the consort’s hair glitter gold and the black jewels around his neck that claim him as Prince Remus’s property glint harshly. His touch is far softer than Virgil would have expected, softer than the blankets, softer than a breeze on a warm summer’s day.

The prince swings four more times at the wall, deepening darkening cracks without the slightest care in the world. Then he takes his weapon and throws it across the room where it collides something else beyond Virgil’s line of vision before falling mercifully silent.

“Are you finished, your majesty?” Dee says in a tone that’s dangerous close to being chiding.

“I will be finished when I have that skamelar’s head at my feet!” Prince Remus says nastily. “That cake was intended for me!”

“I’m sorry,” Virgil whimpers again.

“And just what do you have to be sorry for?” Prince Remus turns on him, “Tell me, Virgil! If not for you, I would be dead from having boiled from the inside! Or maybe from having clawed my way right into my ribcage. Or maybe from having ripped my own throat apart? I’m sure that would have been a lovely sight for everyone to watch!”

Virgil’s heart clenches, and he doesn’t know what to say, what he should do. The back of his throat tastes like the inside of his stomach, like blood, and poison, and avocado. And the Second Prince is saying his name like it’s the most normal thing in the world, talking like Virgil had done it on purpose, sounding like Virgil had saved his life and that meant something more than fate intervening at the right moment.

Dee says, “We came so close to losing you, Virgil. It was a matter of luck that you survived. Logan said that if he had been any further away, if you had taken any bigger of a taste... you would not have stayed alive long enough for him to figure out the cure.”

They talk like it means something. Like Virgil’s life is worth something more than the tailoring services he supplies, like he can’t just be replaced with just a single royal announcement, like they think Virgil is….

“W-why?” Virgil trembles. “Why are you—"

Prince Remus kneels next to the bed, and his head dips slightly so that his black crown bows for Virgil.

“Did you really think that all these times I just wanted new clothes?” The Prince says so quietly Virgil’s breathe catches. “That I’m not capable of fixing my own holes in my trousers, or my cloaks, or that I truly cared if what I was wearing had rips in them at all? Before you came along Father had been threatening to take all of my weapons and lock me in a tower so I would stop going through fabrics so quickly.”

Dee’s fingers ghost over Virgil’s chin lightly. “And a three A.M. summons is surely the most normal thing for the royal tailor.” There’s a teasing smile on his lips, lips that Virgil thinks might be very nice against his. “Our prince was quite inconsolable when you appeared looking just as presentable as normal, Love.”

There’s something about the way he says words--“our prince”, “Love”--like they’re the most normal and natural things in the entire Kingdom.

“Don’t pretend like you haven’t spent night waxing poetry to me about what you want to do with him, Dee!” The prince commands.

“I have no clue what you are referring to, your highness,” Dee says with a red blush across his ears.

Prince Remus looks up at both of them, before leaning forward on the bed. Like a magnet, Dee moves towards him as well and meets him for a smiling kiss in right over Virgil.

He’s seen them kiss dozens of times: soft kisses, warm kisses, kisses so openly filled with love that Virgil feels like he’s intruding when he looks at them. They’ve kissed while Virgil had taken measurements, when he had been taking notes for the specific requests the Prince had for him, when Virgil had been leaving to go about his duties.

Virgil has never left apart of a kiss like this. His lips are on anyone’s and the only touch he has is where Dee was still holding his hands, which had turned into him lacing their fingers together in a mangled knot. Prince Remus reaches out and takes his other hand, and who is he to deny his prince?

He feels faint, float, not really. Surely, he was still dreaming; the last wisps of the poison having their fun with him. Surely, he was about to wake up and find himself not nearly this lucky.

“Don’t scare us like that again, Virgil,” Prince Remus says, breathlessly as he presses his forehead to Dee’s and squeezes Virgil’s hand, “Not before I have a chance to properly court you. I’ll bring you a barbarians head on a stake or something!”

Dee merely smiles down at him and says “Love.”

Virgil thinks that if he died, perhaps this wasn’t such a bad place to spend the rest of eternity.

#sanders sides #greengabs #Anxceit #demus #anxceitmus #virgil sanders #Remus Sanders #deceit sanders #sympathetic deceit #sympathetic remus #patton sanders #logan sanders #roman sanders #your author might be touched starved!#we aren't sure yet!#also might make a part two some day #alternative universe

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binch-i-might-be · 4 years ago

Text

The More You Know

This is the aforementioned short story. It’s unfinished, a blatant Welcome To Nightvale rip-off, and I got extreme whiplash reading it again because one of the characters is named Alex.

Anyway. Can you tell we found out about my grandma’s dementia diagnosis when I wrote this? lmao

also, to reiterate: I wrote this around 2016, I think? It’s been years pls don’t judge me ok :’)

POV first person, wordcount 3.1k

The small town lay in silence, and honestly, that wasn't very unusual. I couldn't really remember a time when it didn't. The shops were closed, the windows all nailed shut with old planks of wood, and in the little corner-store the sign that said 'no help wanted, keep walking' was still firmly in place.

I smiled. It was all exactly like I remembered; exactly like I left it. Like the sign told me, I kept walking, but I didn't hear any steps following. Which was not good, considering I had brought my friend Alex along. He really should keep walking.

I turned, adjusting the backpack slung over my shoulder. »Alex? You need to move,« I said. He stood there, trying to peer into the shop in between the gaps left by the planks. Which was also not very good.

»Why is everything barred? You get a lot of storms here or something?« he asked as he straightened.

»Yes. Or something.«

He frowned, but thankfully caught up to me with a little jog. We continued down the road, in the direction of the woods that never drew any closer, and passed the veranda of Old Lady Miller. Old Lady Miller had a lot of free-running chickens, and it was better not to look at them directly if you wanted to keep your secrets.

She was sitting in her rocking-chair, watching us pass. My grandma once told me Old Lady Miller had already been Old Lady Miller when she was a child, but her chickens hadn't been as many back then.

Alex did another nervous little jog to walk beside me. »Are you sure we should be out here? I mean, no one else is. Maybe there was a storm-warning.«

»Don't worry. It's actually a lot livelier than it normally is.« A chicken crossed the road right in front of us. »Don't look at the chicken,« I told Alex, staring straight ahead.

He looked at me, frowning in confusion. »Why not?«

I looked back at him. »Why did the chicken cross the road?«

»What?«

»To steal your secrets and your memory of every chicken-sandwich you ever ate. Don't look at the chicken.«

He didn't look at the chicken and we got to the crossroad without incident. My family lived straight ahead, at the end of the road, in a nice little house with a nice little garden, bordering the woods that seemed so far away.

»So... what's going on here? Where are all the people? Why are there chicken roaming the streets?« Alex asked, trying to not sound too nervous.

»It's typical, really. Most of the townsfolk doesn't come out if it isn't absolutely necessary. I told you, there's no reason to worry. Everything is fine.« It was understandable Alex was nervous. In my time away from home, I had noticed a slight difference in the happenings of things–not that I thought it made much sense.

»...alright,« he sighed. Still sounded a bit suspicious, though. »So... your brother. You have a brother, right? Does he still live with your parents?«

»It's nice of you to change the subject. But no, he doesn't. Arden likes to live his own life.« And suddenly, we stood in the driveway of the house. Alex looked around, obviously confused, then turned around and looked back. The dirt-road lay winding behind us, despite us having just passed the crossroad a minute ago.

»Don't think about it,« I advised. He looked so suspicious it was almost endearing.

We went up the driveway and up the steps of the veranda. There were four deer-skulls lying in the corner, which was one more than before I'd left, but otherwise, nothing seemed to have changed.

»That's... very charming decoration you've got there,« Alex said, audibly hesitating.

»It's my grandma's. She likes to collect things. You'll see,« I answered. It was the only warning I was allowed to give him. He didn't respond.

I pushed the door open–it was never really locked–and stepped inside. The smell of old wood and burning herbs hung heavily in the air, but it always did, and I would be disappointed if it didn't.

»I'm home!« I called out. My mother came promptly out of the kitchen, carrying a tray of fresh Christmas-tree shaped cookies. It was July.

»Hello, dear! I'm so glad you're back! Your father was getting worried. You know how he gets when you stay out after nightfall.«

I could almost smell Alex' confusion. Apparently, my mother could, too.

»And who is this young man? Where did you find him?« she asked, excited at the prospect of some fresh blood in the house.

»That's my friend Alex. We met a few months ago.«

»Welcome to our humble home, Alex,« she chirped and went off into the kitchen again, presumably to put the tray down. We stood in silence for a few moments, simply listening to the clattering in the kitchen, but then Alex spoke up.

»What did she mean, 'when you stay out after nightfall'? You have been gone for literal months.« He wasn't suspicious anymore; just a little bit scared. Creeped out. That was alright with me. I turned around to face him, and smiled.

»I would tell you time works differently here, because that sounds mysterious, but honestly–my Mom's just always very confused. Sometimes she still sets the table for five people, even though Arden has been gone for quite a time now. She just baked Christmas-cookies.« It was the truth. My mother really didn't have all her wits together anymore, but that's what happened to outsiders staying here too long.

Alex frowned, but then seemed to remember the existence of illnesses like dementia and kept his mouth shut. She didn't really have dementia, but I decided to let him believe whatever made him more comfortable.

I started down the hall, with Alex following close behind, the floorboards creaking loudly with every step we took. It wasn't easy to sneak in here past curfew; but then, it also wasn't easy to survive past curfew.

In the middle of the hall were three possible directions to choose; as a child I always thought of it as a little crossroad in our house. There were the stairs to our right, laden with potted house-plants and herbs, and also loose dirt lying on the stairs nobody ever bothered to clean up.

To the left was the door to the living-room. It was a big, illuminated room with many windows; that was why we only ever stayed in there during the day. Well, except for my grandma, of course. She stayed there however long she pleased. I thought whatever roamed the woods at night was too afraid to fuck with her.

Up front was the kitchen, where my mother was still clattering around, probably cleaning up after herself. From the kitchen, one could go to our veranda; our second, more relevant veranda behind the house. The veranda overlooking the garden, bordering the woods.

When we were kids, my brother and I were only allowed to play in the garden in the summer, because the days were long then, but that was also the time when the stench of rotting flesh was the strongest.

Well, you couldn't have everything. I stole a quick glance behind me and saw that Alex was looking around curiously. His eyes caught on the wall to our left. It was clustered with stuff–mostly crucifixes my grandma had gathered over the years, even though no one really believed in the conventional gods around here.

Besides those, there were also many family-pictures; my brother and I when we were kids, our family outside in the garden, my parent's wedding-picture, my grandma when she was still young–that one photo of us all gathered in the living-room, playing monopoly. No one knew who took that picture. It was just on the camera-roll one day.

Alex made a confused little humming sound that drew my attention. He was looking at a framed newspaper-article and squinting at the headline.

»Man drowned after breaking into closed swimming-pool?« he read. »It isn't even from around here–it says Hamburg there.«

»Yeah... we only got our hands on that because it's the only document left of my grandfather. My Pa's a little sentimental, you see.«

At that, his eyes widened in terror. »You mean-« He whipped around to the article, then looked back at me in silent horror. »That's your grandpa?! And you framed the article and hung it with your family-pictures?!«

»Well, yes. It's not a big deal. Gran likes to be reminded of him sometimes.«

He pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes tightly. »That's so fucked up, man.«

I raised an eyebrow at him, a little grin fighting its way onto my lips. »You think that's fucked up? Dude, you've come the wrong place.«

Nightfall approached quickly. Well, actually, it didn't; but it sure felt like it, with Alex pacing and mumbling to himself in the living-room while Mom and I watched from the sofa, fairly uninterested. I told her about the things I'd seen and done in the past months and she listened gladly. It was nice to talk to someone from home; everyone else was exhausting to have a conversation with.

I looked out the window in caution, noticing that the sun was setting behind the woods. We needed to leave the room soon. I told Alex as much and was met with a new-found suspicion of anything concerning me and my family. It was ridiculous.

»C'mon, Alex, only yesterday you trusted me enough to come home with me. What happened?«

He stopped his pacing and stared at me for a while, his eyes looking like he was having violent flashbacks of something unpleasant. »This place happened!«

I sighed, uncrossed my legs and got up. »Chill out, dude. Nothing is going to happen to you. At least as long as we leave in a few days time, but we planned to do that anyway, so I don't see what the big deal is.«

He sputtered, seeming to choke on his own words. »Well, first of all, I would have appreciated if you had told me that you basically lived in Night Vale! Secondly–what do you mean 'as long as we leave in a few days time'? I'm feeling slightly threatened here!«

I heaved another sigh. »No one is threatening you. Well, no one is threatening you in particular. It's just that this place does weird things to outsiders if they only stay here long enough–I mean, you've met Mom, so you should know what I'm talking about.«

He looked at the open door my mother had left through a few moments ago, then back to me and repeated that a couple of times frantically. Stepping closer to me, he lowered his voice to a whisper. »You mean- when 'outsiders',« he gestured quotation marks into the air. »Stay here long enough, they become... like her? This place gives you dementia?«

Why did he always have the need to find words for everything? »You could certainly say so, even though that's not really it. But for the sake of simpleness–yes. It basically gives you dementia. The people who were born here are pretty much immune to it, though.«

Alex breathed in and out a few times, presumably to gather his wits. »What do you mean, 'pretty'?«

For fucks sake, could he just stop picking all the relevant words out of my sentences?

»Some people are a little easier to influence than other people. No big deal there, though. It only happens like once every generation. I think.«

He stared at me thoughtfully, as if considering my words; and probably figuring out which snippet he would pick out next to make me explain some more.

I glanced out the window again, noticing it was about time we got out of the living-room.

»C'mon, we need to get out,« I said, obviously interrupting his inner monologue. He narrowed his eyes at me, but stepped out into the hall nonetheless. I followed and closed the door firmly behind me.

»Why exactly do we need to leave the room now?« he asked nonchalantly. Ah, Alex. You think you are starting to figure things out, don't you? Keep trying, buddy.

»It's the things living in the woods. You don't want to mess with them–even though things have been considerably calmer since Arden left, we still don't want to take a chance with those fuckers.«

And there he went again, looking extremely uncomfortable. »And what are 'those fuckers'?« He really liked his quotation marks, didn't he.

»Who knows,« I answered with a shrug of my shoulders. The only thing we knew about them was that they came out at night and ate pretty much everything consisting of flesh. Except grandma and Arden, of course.

He frowned in obvious frustration. »Why do none of you people know what's going on around here? You fucking live here!«

His little outburst didn't really impress me, so I simply shrugged again. »Ah, you know. No one really cares.«

»What do you mean-« he began, but I stopped him right there.

»If you fucking say 'what do you mean' one more time, I'm gonna haul your ass out into the garden and leave you there with the Woodkeepers. Fucking watch me, mate.«

He looked slightly taken aback at that, but recovered quickly enough, his gaze sweeping me from head to toe.

»Is this why you are never impressed by any horror-movie we watch? Because you live in a horror-movie?«

Now, that was hilarious. I couldn't help myself, I started laughing. Alex was first surprised, then pleased with himself.

»Probably,« I answered, grinning.

Mom made dinner and Alex and I set the table. We didn't have anything to do anyways. Grandma was still out on the veranda, pinning shed snake-skins she had found somewhere to the side of the house.

Alex watched her with interest from the window and grandma ignored him. Mom was humming in the background, checking on her meatloaf in the oven. It was the kind of strange domesticity I had missed during my time away.

»You said since your brother had left, the... Woodkeepers, I think you called them, hadn't been as persistent. Why is that?« he asked quietly as I stepped up to him and leaned on the windowsill.

The old oil-lamp illuminating the veranda flickered, and grandma stopped what she was doing for a second to throw a stern look into the darkness beyond, making a shooing hand-motion. The flickering stopped and she continued undisturbed.

I let my head fall against the glass of the window. »Because Arden is... well, he's special. Not special like Gran, but still. Special.«

»If I were to ask how exactly he is special, you would say you don't know, right?«

»Yep.«

He heaved a tired sigh. »How can you live with this not-knowing? It would drive me crazy.«

I smiled and vaguely gestured in my mothers direction. He followed my hand, and his eyes widened comically in understanding.

»No,« he said with an unbelieving shake of his head.

»Yes,« I retorted. »And that's the only thing I know.«

Half an hour later, grandma had come back in and was staring at Alex. She had been at it for a few minutes now, and it had crossed the 'uncomfortable', the 'creepy' and now the 'really unsettling' mark.

Alex looked over at me, seeking help, but I couldn't do anything. Grandma would take her time, no matter what.

Finally, she swept her intense gaze over to me and leaned back in her chair.

»I hope you didn't bring him here to tell us you are marrying him,« she said, with an obvious edge to her voice. Alex managed to look both offended and relieved at once.

I snorted. »Of course not. We are friends, Gran. You know my standards.«

At that, he only looked offended.

»No offence, Alex,« I said.

»Full offence!« Grandma butted in. She stabbed a crooked finger in Alex' direction. »That one wouldn't even last two months here!«

»That may be,« I answered as I seated myself next to Alex and patted his shoulder encouragingly. »But we aren't here to stay and we're also not here to get married. Don't you worry, Gran.«

»Still,« she continued. »Imagine what your father would say if you were to marry that one. I would never hear the end of it!«

I chuckled lowly and Alex threw me a dark glare.

»I know. Where is the old man, anyway?«

»He went to visit your brother, dear,« My mother said from the kitchen-counter. »He should be back soon.«

Grandma shook her head. »That brother of yours, Arden, he is only making trouble these days. He keeps disturbing the Woodkeepers; they even went and took a chicken from Old Lady Miller! Can you believe it!«

I frowned and looked over at Mom for confirmation, but she kept her back to us. Alex looked as confused as I felt.

»How is he disturbing them? I thought he was off doing his own thing.«

»That is what keeps disturbing them! Arden doing whatever Arden is doing!«

I didn't answer. It seemed very improbable that Arden of all people could be railing up the Woodkeepers, but when grandma said he did, it must be true. And Pa probably wanted to stop him from whatever it was he was doing out there.

Before I could continue my hypothesizing, three gunshots in quick succession sounded outside, breaking the peace and making Alex jump in his seat.

»That's gotta be Pa,« I mumbled to myself and got up. The door swung open as I jogged down the corridor, revealing my father in all his glory. The shotgun with the three barrels was slung over his shoulder and he looked grumpy as usual.

He kicked the door shut behind him and threw the shotgun from him, toppling a big potted plant.

»It's always the same with those three,« he muttered under his breath and unclasped the breastplate he wore for obvious reasons, then ruffled my hair as he walked by.

»It's good you're here, Ryn. I need you to talk to your brother.

#you can tell a lot about my mental state back then by reading this #ray was really going through it #short story #unfinished #i really stopped writing this mid dialogue #very iconic of me #rayrambles

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star-felled · 4 years ago

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Cats 2019, but I try fixing the horrible script

Victoria in bag yeah whatever been there done that

Jellicles are and Jellicles do Je

Maybe the Jellicles introduce more of themselves and Misto's like "yeah that's my name lol but I'm also called Quaxo" segwaying into The Naming of Jellicles, OR cut out the song to make room for Pekes and Pollicles. Depends on how much runtime you're willing to have

Have Macavity watching but like not super obvious. He's watching from a distance instead of blatantly talking to Vic this time

Demeter can be worried about trusting Vic but if Munk trusts her then Dem trusts her

Misto's like "oh yeah almost time for the ball" Vic is like "wtf" and Munk explains and leads her to Jenny

NO EATING COCKROACHES

Tugger's still there, Jenny's like "how tf did you get inside my house. stop terrorizing the mice"

Tugger goes and does his song or whatever, Vic's expression is like "wtf is up with him" but Misto just shakes his head and calls him a bore

Tugger go "here Vic lemme show you how to have fun" and Vic lets herself go loose!! (and unfortunately joins Tug's fanclub)

Misto's like "UGH FUCK NO TUGGER NOT ANOTHER KIT (lovingly)" but everything's cancelled by Griz showing up

They do the Griz thing

Maybe Vic tries to touch Griz when Munk gently pulls Vic back, then she asks why Griz isn't cool anymore, but gets interrupted bc NO MORE "WENT WITH MACAVITY" HALF-ASSED EXPLANATION

A local building alarm goes off and Dem's like "MACAVITY" and Vic is like "WHO" and gets dragged off (spoiler alert it wasn't actually Macavity)

When they think they're a safe distance away they start Bustopher Jones but better

Maybe it could be like "ok we get you kits are scared but Jones is a respectful mature man he would take care of you" ((I oh-so desperately want Misto to excitedly agree bc uncle Bustopher hcs are the cutest))

LET MISTO FOLLOW THE MAN AROUND GODDAMMIT

When the rest of the cats are distracted Vic slinks off and meets Jerrie and Teazer. they cause chaos and honestly good on them

I like to think that, instead of the whole Vic getting stuck on bedpost thing, the twins try to bring her through the window but when they land they're caught and get reprimanded by Munk

Misto goes up to Vic like "that was fucking stupid of you now let's go meet ol doot"

Vic is like "uh okay (I've learned not to question things at this point)" and follows them, when she sees Deut she gets that fatherly vibe from him and starts to understand why they trust him

Deut goes "ohoho who do we have here" and when everyone excitedly introduces her he'd like,,, nuzzle her and go "welcome to the clan"

She's mystified and immediately trusts this man with her life cuz who wouldn't

Victoria watches Pekes and Pollicles performance bc it's a bop

Maybe bonding moment between Vic and Deut after the show where he's like "theyre a mess but they try and I love them for it"?

Tugger's like "DAADDDDD CAN WE START YET" and they start dancing,, Vic is all awed and then Deut goes "c'mon you're one of them now" and nudges her forward so she can join

It's a blast but in the middle of it Vic notices Griz in the background, so when everyone else goes to sleep she sneaks off Yet Again, this time Jemima following her cuz curious little kitten

They hear Griz sing and see her try to dance like the others, and they were gonna go invite her but then Deut taps em on the shoulder and says "we gotta wait for the others to accept her" except super vague. the kittens have no clue what he's on about but accepts it anyway cuz it's ol doot

I think keeping the choice be an audition sorta thing is fine, it kinda felt like that in the musical. just no more solos, no more solos ple

They're all just now waking up but Misto and Gus are Extra awake. like y'know when you go downstairs at like 7 am to get cereal, expecting no one else to be there but then There Is. they do that lil talk they do in the movie, dunno what I'd alter there quite just yet? Misto would be less outwardly anxious for sure though, gotta let the boy keep his calm

When it's like "ok who now losers" maybe Misto could start singing for Gus and hand it off to someone else after a line or two? then Gus gets his part and maybe we see some subtle character development coming out from Misto. show don't tell y'know that sorta thing

Gus is like "ok that's cool but I can think of another person to start singing now" and takes a seat when Munk gets the hint to start the next song

SKIMMMBLESHANKSSS THE RAIIILWAAAAY CATTTT THE C

The fake train they build gets fucking destroyed and it's bc MACAVITY

He runs around wreaking havoc, starts fighting with Munk but when Munk puts up a better fight than he expected he kidnaps Deut

Probably would've restrained Deut in some way before running around bc the guy could very easily beat him up

Anyways Macavity retreats and everyone's worried for Munk and Deut

Victoria's like "OH YEAH RIGHT WE HAVE MISTO" and he's like "????? you're asking me to teleport THE HOLY CHRIST HIMSELF??????" and starts mentally panicking

Tugger comes in like "oh but you OUGHT to ask mr mistoffelees the original conjuring cat there can be no dou

Bc he's hyped up Misto brings Deut back first try and gets more confidence in his abilities, we love a character arc

They go back to make the Jellicle Choice but then OH THERES GRIZABELLA and the clan is gonna kick her out but Victoria's like "no let her sing!!" but bc she's new no one cares but then JEMIMA goes "let her sing it's almost time!!! just this one bit plssss" and bc it's Jemima and they love Jemima they let Griz sing

Then she gets picked and cat god takes her away or whatever

Ol doot does the speech but like addressing the clan instead of breaking the 4th wall and then the movie ends and we DON'T have to deal with 10 minutes of end credits

✨ The end ✨

Extra notes / Things I'd change

Add in the bg interaction!!! That's what makes the 1998 version so fun, it allows the chorus cats to have so much personality despite only being bg characters

Pls for the love of all that is holy make the chorus cats more easy to distinguish and recognize, not only do they look different from the costumes of every other production Ever, they also all look the same as one another

If Misto still did that excited thing at the beginning of The Gumbie Cat I'd lose my marbles I think

Let Tugger interact with his dad more!!! Munk got so much interaction with Old Deut in the movie which I LOVED but Tugger got??? Nothing????? I get that Jason Derulo is expensive to keep on set but if you can put that much effort into that audio system you barely even used 4/5 of the functions of, you can spend a little on letting Tugger love his dad

We got so many Misto and Tugger interactions in the 2016 revival, is it too much to ask for that back... . ... .. ..

That's about it I think, I mostly made this for myself bc I've been thinking of making a fic based off this and wanted to give myself an outline :) I really like the idea of giving Victoria a story as to how she joined the jellicles but...... it was butchered so terribly..... .... .........

Anyways!! If you've got anything you wanna say or add on I'd love to hear it :DD (no pressure though ofc ^^)

#cats the musical #cats 2019 #cats victoria #please tell me thats the right tag to use for her ple #long post

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izzyfandoms · 4 years ago

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Right if you’re seeing this then I guess I finally managed to successfully put down all my thoughts on how I think the finale two-parter is gonna go! Yay!

I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately lmao

(Edit: adding a Keep Reading cos this is LONG)

SO SVS2 ended pretty badly didn’t it. Yeah, Janus got accepted, but Roman is pretty clearly not doing great because of that - and quite understandably too

Janus treated him pretty badly in SVS1, manipulating him whilst simultaneously giving everyone the impression that going to the callback (following Thomas’s dreams, aka listening to Roman) was a bad thing. Now, did he do that deliberately? No, I don’t think so - I doubt Janus realised that his whole strategy in SVS1 just made everyone else more anti-callback, and I also doubt that he realised how much that hurt Roman

Just look at Janus’s behaviour in SVS2! He thoughtlessly admits that his flattery before was false (saying that he no longer needs to flatter him) - something that probably really hurt someone with such low self esteem like Roman. Like no wonder he lashed out, I’d be pretty upset too if I were in his shoes

And when Roman describes Janus’s behaviour in SVS1, Janus calls it a funny prank, likely not realising that that’s what Roman was referring to

(I’ve talked about this before, but watching Roman’s expressions when he reacts to Janus thoughtlessly saying these things is heartbreaking)

So, here we see that Janus treated Roman pretty badly in SVS1 - using him so he could get Thomas to do what he wanted - and then admitting to it in SVS2 like it was nothing

And I’m not saying this to be anti Janus, not at all, I love the guy! I’m just pointing it out to highlight one of - if not the - biggest flaw he has:

His selfishness and how self-centred he is

Now this probably comes pretty naturally to Janus, given his role, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t need to improve. Black and white morality comes naturally to Patton, and he still needs to wok on and is currently working on that. Being aggressive comes naturally to Virgil, but we’ve already seen him work on that

I don’t think he noticed how much his behaviour hurt Roman, and you can see that in SVS2 as he doesn’t seem to understand (or often notice) just how upset he was, and he didn’t seem to realise that what he did was wrong. He talked so casually about these things, and not in a smug way, but like it meant nothing - because that’s what it meant to him, so he doesn’t notice how it affects Roman

Janus doesn’t just do this with Roman either, you can see him basically doing this with Logan too, just without such an obvious reaction

He actively excludes Logan from things all the time - he silenced him in CLBG, he replaced and then excluded him in SVS1, and then replaced him again in SVS2

Logan above all else just wants to be listened to - by Thomas and by the other sides - and Janus is too focused on getting Thomas to listen to him then he is on how his behaviour hurts others. He doesn’t seem to think about how Logan just wants to be listened to too

Now Im sure you’re wondering how this is all relevent to the season finale two parter, which I already said that this post is about

Basically, I think that this is what the season finale two parter will be about

I think that Roman is going to continue opposing Janus, and that he’s going to turn to Virgil to assist him in doing so - as Virgil likely will, as he gets along well with Roman now and does not get along with Janus

(A lot of people seem to think that Roman’s going to go full dark side because of all this, and that that’s what the finale will be about, but I completely disagree. Mostly because from what we’ve seen so far that seems literally impossible. Sides are sorted into ‘light sides’ and 'dark sides’ by Thomas alone, it’s not a choice - Roman can’t just become a dark side because he feels like it

Virgil is only a light side because Thomas accepted him - which is part of the reason why I dislike how some people villainise him for leaving the dark sides. He decided to duck out, he didn’t decide to be accepted or to become a 'light side’. Choosing to befriend the light sides and choosing to duck out isn’t something I’d consider a betrayal

If the sides themselves decided who is 'light’ and who is 'dark’ then Janus at the very least probably never would’ve been a dark side. It’s not a real classification, because it’s purely based on how Thomas views his different traits)

I think that Roman and Virgil are going to confront Janus (with Thomas and Patton likely also present) and try to convince Thomas that he shouldn’t have been accepted. They’ll bring up the behaviour in SVS - perhaps even bringing up how the outcome was Janus’s fault, something you’ll know I firmly believe if you’ve been following me since before SVS2 - and we’ll probably also find out more details about Janus and Virgil’s history

(Janus probably felt betrayed when Virgil turned light side, despite how (as I said) it wasn’t entirely his choice, nor was it a bad thing as it benefitted Thomas greatly. Janus probably had a more self-centred view than he should’ve, but Virgil was probably less than sympathetic to Janus’s perspective and lashed out. That’s just some general speculating though, I’m really not sure and I’m quite excited to find out more about their history)

Janus will finally actually realise how his behaviour hurts people - or I guess the other sides, as they’re not people. He’ll probably get defensive at first, but I think he’ll realise and try to improve by the end of the finale

Hopefully lol - if not then I guess we won’t have the happiest ending to season 2

But this is not the only thing I think will happen in the finale, oh no

Because we’re missing two very important characters here - two characters who have probably been the most impacted by Janus’s behaviour, more than anyone else

Remus and the orange dark side

(This is honestly the main reason why I disagree with the fandom’s popular view of the dark sides as a family similar to the light sides. Because Janus was the one actively hiding Remus up until DWIT, and still is the one actively hiding Orange. He seems to have a lot of control over it, too, as he was able to reveal himself and seemed to Choose to reveal Remus in DWIT when it suited him

Hiding the dark sides seems to have been less Thomas’s choice than the dark side/light side split - this is something the sides involved seem to have actual control over

That doesn’t seem like a family dynamic to me - one hiding the other two from Thomas, someone who is basically Everything to the sides - and if it was/is one it doesn’t seem like the healthiest

Again, I’m not trying to villainise Janus here either. This was his job - he did it because he thought it was best for Thomas - and it’s a lot more complicated than Janus just locking the two of them away out of cruelty. He isn’t the sole side to blame, though he was the actual action of hiding them. Remus (despite the fact that he seems to desire attention more than anything else, the one thing Janus deprived him of) doesn’t seem to hold much of a grudge - though most of this I believe is due to Remus as a character. He isn’t really the grudge-holding type, though I really doubt he likes Janus much

Virgil talking about how Remus “used to really unsettle” him, and Remus describing DWIT as “just like old times” seems to support this in my opinion. They don’t seem to have ever been close, so I doubt the dark sides as a whole were/are close

I believe the dark sides were split between Virgil and Janus (the two dark sides with control - Virgil being allowed out, and Janus being in control of hiding himself and the other two), and Remus and Orange (the two hidden))

Anyway I’m rambling a little lol

BASICALLY, I think that Roman and Virgil are going to confront Janus, and that nearer to the end of it (either when the tension is at its highest, or when the characters are starting to come to some kind of agreement) Remus and Orange are going to pop up and bring themselves into it

I think this partly because this is very relevent to them, but also because I firmly believe that Orange will be introduced by the end of the season so they can have a new intro with all the sides in season 3

I think that throughout these two part episodes Patton will probably be mostly on Janus’s side, and that Logan will probably be the most neutral party, though his side of things (being repeatedly excluded by Janus) will probably be brought up by either Roman or Virgil

Most likely Virgil

So overall this will be about Janus and his self-centredness and how it’s harmed the other sides, and Thomas finally properly confronting how perhaps suppressing multiple different traits of himself were a bad thing

Aaaand that’s about it! Sorry that this got really rambly lol, I just have a lot of thoughts and wanted to fit them in

I love Janus - he’s one of my favourites, probably The Favourite side rn honestly, and I adore overanalysing him

Please don’t start discourse in the reblogs/comments, though debates and sharing your own thoughts on the matter are always welcome! Pls don’t bring any unsymp sides stuff into this either, as that makes me pretty uncomfortable

#sanders sides analysis #me #sanders sides #janus sanders #deceit sanders #roman sanders #virgil sanders #remus sanders #patton sanders #logan sanders #thomas sanders #orange dark sides #sanders sides theory #sanders sides theories

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mordoriscalling · 4 years ago

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The Colour-Magic Theory (1/?)

Intro

Here comes part 1 of me playing with magic and giving myself Geraskier feels. Hope you enjoy! (Also, no beta, pls have mercy.)

***

From a look, a song and unwanted friendship, new lives are born. The stack of firewood is swallowed up by flames the moment Geralt casts Igni.

“Oh, I love that trick,” Jaskier says and puts his hands close to the fire, warming them after his fingers got stiff from playing the lute in the chill of the autumn evening. “Why don’t you use it every time, I wonder?” the bard asks, observing his companion sitting across the bonfire. “It’s so much easier.”

The witcher only grunts in reply, as is his way, and continues munching on a strip of beef jerky. Jaskier, however, isn’t deterred by the silence, and continues staring at Geralt expectantly. His questioning gaze is like a physical touch. It sends a tingling sensation down the witcher’s spine, the way it always does.

With a resigned sigh, Geralt answers, “I usually want to save my magic for when I really need it, but you were whining so much about the cold that I just wanted to shut you up quicker.”

Jaskier gasps and lays a hand on his breast, about to dramatically take offence, but doesn’t voice his hurt in the end. Something else intrigued him. “Save your magic?” he asks, “what do you mean?”

The witcher measures the bard with the blank “no more questions” look for long enough that any sane person would give up. Jaskier isn’t exactly sane, in Geralt’s (and some others’) opinion, and stares at the witcher right back, unmoved. When it comes to stubbornness, their relation is a diamond cut diamond type of situation.

Finally, Geralt gives in, huffing in irritation. “Magic always has a price. When you take power from Chaos, you have to give something back. The give and take tends to affect your physiological well-being, especially when the stakes are high.”

“So...” Jaskier begins, confused about his understanding of the matter, “casting signs weakens you and that’s why you don’t use magic often?”

“No,” the witcher answers, confusing his companion even further, “My extra mutations... they must’ve changed it. Using magic doesn’t have any effect on my body at all.”

“Fascinating,” Jaskier replies, then immediately gets up to rummage through his travel pack. He comes back to sit across Geralt with a notebook and a pencil in his hand. “What is the price you pay, then?” he asks the witcher and starts writing something in the notebook without waiting for a reply.

“Jaskier,” Geralt growls, “I haven’t told anyone about this.” The bard’s head snaps up and he stares at Geralt in shock. Then, understanding dawns on his face. “Oh.” He clears his throat. “Alright.” The next moment, the page is torn out of the notebook. It lands in the bonfire and turns into ash. Geralt stares into the flames silently while Jaskier waits for him to speak up.

“My powers deplete themselves,” the witcher says, “It takes time for the magic to return.”

“Peculiar,” the bard remarks, “And a pretty shitty deal, too. I’d rather have it affect my physiology than have to wait after every silly spell.”

Geralt shakes his head. “There’s something else. It’s... hard to explain. In a way, I can negotiate with Chaos. Make my magic not exhaust itself as quickly as it should. It’s useful when I’m in a fight.” His mouth sets into a grim line. “I still haven’t figured out the price I pay for that, though.”

Jaskier smiles a wry little smile, not commenting for once, and Geralt lets himself look at the bard, who meets his eye squarely. The bright gold connects with the cornflower blue and time stands still. Just between the two of them, the colour of the bard’s irises is suddenly so vibrant that it alerts Geralt’s witcher instincts. Jaskier tends to have that effect on him. The bard is always full of energy – all flutter and movement, brightness and sounds – and it’s too much not to be suspicious. Too much for Geralt’s heightened senses as well; Jaskier’s constant chatter almost gives him a headache every day. His singing is even more bothersome, considering that Geralt’s medallion reacts to it.

“Maybe the price is putting up with you,” the witcher jokes, deadpan. “You!” Jaskier cries, directing an accusing pointing finger at Geralt, “You bastard! I’m a delight and a gift to this world!”

Geralt huffs out a laugh but does nothing to deny it. Jaskier may be annoying and strange but he’s a blessing all the same. Since he joined Geralt two years ago, he’s been working relentlessly on improving Geralt’s image and changing the public perception of all witchers. The bard wants him reborn as a hero, which is a fool’s errand, but he’s grateful for it anyway. The thank-you gets stuck in Geralt’s throat whenever he wants to say it, even though he’s already less spat at in villages. Thankfully, Jaskier seems to understand. Many things pass between them with little words.

Later, when they lay down to sleep, Jaskier’s quiet question reaches the witcher’s ears.

“Geralt?”

“Hm?”

“Thank you.”

“Hmm.”

The bard walks a few steps ahead of Geralt, who follows him on his horse’s back. Jaskier is composing. He’s always in front of Roach when he’s preoccupied with the creative process. The song about the healing of the Striga that he’s working on is in the middle stages – the first version of lyrics is ready but every single line needs perfecting. This is exactly what Jaskier is doing now: trying out the sound of every word and looking for ones that fit the melody better.

The bard is so engrossed with the task that he doesn’t notice the obvious – how the nature around him moves to get closer to his voice. Geralt’s keen eyes notice the way each straw of grass and every leaf lean in, just a touch, to “listen”. The air has gone completely still and the meadow is eerily silent; even Roach seems to be holding her breath. Geralt’s medallion vibrates.

The witcher decides that this moment is as good as any to confront the issue.

“You’re not human.” Jaskier freezes in his tracks, his body going rigid with tension. The acidic stench of fear fills the air and Geralt shifts in the saddle, disturbed by the smell for the first time in decades. “I am not,” Jaskier replies, his back to the witcher. “Do you want to tell me?” Geralt prompts, his voice gentle like it almost never is. The bard turns to face him, face pale and hands trembling. “You really don’t know what I am?” “You should be the one to say it,” the witcher answers softly. Jaskier releases a shaky breath and nods. Stepping off the path, he walks into the tall grasses and strums his lute. When he opens his mouth, he sings in a language which the witcher has never heard in his long life. The tongue consists mostly of croons, trills, whistles and swishing sounds, and it’s enchanting even to Geralt’s ears. The air becomes thick with power immediately. It’s not Chaos, however. It’s a whole different type of magic.

The fae are creatures of nature – they are born from its energy. Guarding its Order and sustaining its sacred rhythms is their ancient task that they’ve always been fulfilling, hidden away in their own dimension of the world. They belong to the magic of nature and they don’t move out of it. Usually.

Jaskier didn’t belong anywhere, not until recently. His rhythm has always been too fast. He flutters from place to place, both quickly bored and immensely fascinated with everything and anything. The skies have always drawn him in the most – he still dreams of being a bird and flying anywhere he wants. In the end, Jaskier’s Queen found his temperament unbearable enough that she didn’t clip his wings any longer and allowed him to mingle with mortals.

Jaskier’s done his fair share of that, along with quite some mischief, but his life of adventure truly began only when he saw the brooding loner in Posada. The man’s restrained disposition and the guarded gold of his eyes were arresting, intriguing. Jaskier instantly wanted to know what secrets the witcher held. A few years later, he’s sure he won’t ever grow tired of uncovering them – every little bit of information, of understanding Geralt better, sends a thrill of rightness and belonging through his being.

Freeing his magic puts him at ease, lets him truly breathe. And so, the bard carries on singing, not afraid anymore. He smiles, radiating happiness. His glamour has dropped a bit and his sharp fangs are showing but the witcher only smiles back with the tiny upturn of his lips. Jaskier laughs in between the lines because from this moment on, he’s well and truly safe.

When the song ends, the meadow is completely silent for a moment, then the buzz of insects picks up anew and the gentle gust of wind returns.

“You’ve said enough,” Geralt remarks, and that’s all he has to say on the matter.

After that, the bard opens up to his companion even more, if that’s even possible. Geralt has a suspicion that Jaskier’s chatter was to serve as a distraction from his magic. Now that it’s out in the open, Jaskier’s silences, previously almost non-existent, has got longer. The bard doesn’t shy away from using his power around the witcher, too, and uses it in various ways to make their lives easier. He enchants a client into compliance when they don’t want to give Geralt the promised pay, or asks plants and animals to tell them where the nearest shelter is. When Geralt has a restless night, Jaskier’s humming puts him to sleep. The witcher’s medallion always vibrates then but Geralt isn’t alarmed by it any longer. It’s become a welcome thrum.

Their dynamic changes but they don’t look for any ways to describe it; they simply live the new way and enjoy it. The lazy, warm afternoons are the most pleasant, when Geralt stretches out in a shade of some tree and dozes off to the sounds of Jaskier's lute. Other times Geralt uses Aard to toss some object and Jaskier tries to catch it, laughing, his giggles lovelier than the tinkle of silver bells. Chaos and Order swirl around them, the sky is blue and the sun shines bright on the lush green grass. It could mean nothing or it could mean the world but what matters is that they both find peace. This is why Geralt doesn’t call Jaskier his friend – the word doesn’t fit.

Then Cintra happens and they part ways for three whole years.

TBC

Part 2

#myfic #geraskier #geralt x jaskier #the witcher fanfiction #The C-M Theory AU #magical!Geralt #fae!jaskier

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greekgeek21 · 4 years ago

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Percy Jackson and the Avengers: Convergence - the avengers are humbled

Welcome back! I know it's been awhile but I hope I didn't lose too many of you. I just wanted to say thank you for all of the support I've been getting on all platforms. Honestly, I did not expect this story to take off the way it did.

Now that that's over, I'm gonna clarify something for SOME PEOPLE. I started writing this last October, which means that I have absolutely no interest in going back over already-edited work just to change a minor detail some people seem to find maddening. This chapter, I can say for certain, was written during December, so I don't always remember what happened. Okay?

This chapter is kinda just one big fluffy piece but I love it so no hate pls.

Now please remember to comment, like, follow me, and reblog!

- you author

Ω ♆ Ω

"Okay! Assignments...Annabeth and Piper, go with Widow, Frank with Hawkeye, Hazel and Leo with Tony, and Jason and Percy with Bruce and I. Everyone okay with that?" Steve said.

"Yep."

"Got it, Cap."

"This should be fun..."

The heroes separated into their groups and stood, waiting for more orders from Captain America.

"As I said before, this is just to further evaluate and document your abilities. It shouldn't take long. That's it, get to work," He ordered, turning and walking towards the sparring pads with Jason, Percy, and Dr. Banner.

They were back on the training floor for the evaluations, after an uneventful lunch break. Well, unless you count Frank's disgust with the attempt at proper Chinese food as eventful.

Ω ♆ Ω

Despite them being on the sparring mats, Percy and Jason would not be sparring. Even to someone who doesn't know the full extent of the sons of the Poseidon and Zeus' relationship, it's pretty obvious that they should not be allowed to fight each other. Their personalities are almost exact opposites; Carefree vs Serious.

"Just show us something we haven't seen from you before, and then we'll build from there," Bruce told the teens.

Percy and Jason looked at each other expectantly, waiting for the other to begin. Their powers were similar in the way that they could get out of hand quickly. Neither of them wanted to be the reason that the tower lost power or got flooded. Zeus knows it would be a mess to clean up.

After a whole two minutes of waiting for them to get started, Steve let out a sigh, "Oh, for God's sake! Jason, you go."

"Umm...let's see here," Jason muttered under his breath, looking around the room for inspiration, "Oh! I got it!"

He positioned himself a couple of feet away from a practice dummy and held his hands together in front of him. Taking a deep breath and imagining his goal, he let sparks fly around his hands. He let them grow for a couple of seconds before slowly starting to separate his hands. While doing this, he made sure a line of electricity was stable between his hands. He kept separating his hands until he couldn't anymore, and then he slowly released his grip on the line from his left hand. He made sure to keep feeding the lightning rod so that it held form.

Meanwhile, on the sidelines, Percy, Steve, and Bruce were all watching with equal amounts of shock. Percy had never seen or known Jason could do this, and Steve and Bruce were completely new to all of this. Then, Jason proceeded to shock them further.

He made the line of electricity into a whip. He made a lighting whip.

Percy was so proud of his friend's imagination. It was almost enough to make a grown demigod cry...

Jason readied his whip and struck the practice dummy, slicing it completely in half. Then, he turned to his group, smiling and making the lightning dissipate. It should've been illegal how easy he made it look, in Percy's opinion.

"Dude! That was awesome! I didn't know you could do that!" Percy exclaimed, slapping the son of Zeus on the back with a proud, blinding smile.

No matter what it seemed like sometimes, Percy was the big brother of the Seven.

"Yeah! That was pretty good, son," Steve said, nodding his head in appreciation, "Now we only need to get that process sped-up and it will be an amazing asset in a fight."

"This means you could do so much more with your abilities, including maybe providing infinite power, which we have been searching for for decades! You kids are truly lucky to have these powers," Bruce rattled off.

Percy whispered to Steve, "Does he get like this a lot?"

Steve nodded, "Yeah. I tend to tune-out the sciency rambling and just focus on stuff I can understand. He had Tony if he needs to bounce ideas off of someone, anyway."

"Got it," Percy said, "I guess this means I'm next?"

He had thought about this a lot during lunch, and had decided to go into the exercise with the comfort and ease he had possessed using his powers before Tartarus, and see where he got from there. Like Annabeth said, it was all in his head. He just needed to believe that he had control, and he would get it.

Simple, in theory.

"Yep. I want you to copy Jason, but with water," Steve said.

He gave more specific instructions to Percy because he felt like he needed that. He was a leader, and leaders need to notice and know what their troops need. Percy needed specifics because he was cautious with using his powers, and he wanted to know exactly what was needed of him before going in. That way there is no possibility of him losing control.

Once again, only in theory.

"Okay, Percy... you got this," Percy muttered to himself, bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet and cracking his neck.

He shook his hands out once before readying himself in a slightly-more relaxed version of Jason's stance. But this time, he did not hold his hands together. Instead, he reached his hands out towards the bucket of water the Avengers had brought to the sparring mats earlier. Taking a deep breath, he felt the barely-there familiar tug in his gut before a tendril of water was rising from the bucket and reaching towards his outstretched hands. Percy willed it to wrap around his arms and hands, and then he slowly put his hands together like he had seen Jason do (he wasn't quite sure how he planned to make the whip yet, so this seemed like the best bet). Taking another deep breath, he started separating his hands, but keeping a solid tendril of water stretched between them.

He tried to move slightly faster than his cousin did, just because of the ever present, unconscious competitiveness ingrained between them.

Finally, he let go with his left hand and let the water form into a whip in his right. It kept shape, but was more flexible than the rod had been. Percy turned to the other practice dummy and whipped it twice, forming two straight slices right through the rubber.

Everyone in their group stood in shock, including Percy after he had deposited the water back in the bucket. He hadn't known he could use a whip.

Must be another natural demigod thing, he thought. Most weaponry came easy to him (except archery, of course).

It took a moment for them to recollect themselves, but Steve shook himself out of his stupor first, "That was...impressive, Percy. I didn't know you had such control over your powers."

The demigod in question shrugged modestly, "Yeah. I didn't really either, to be completely honest."

Jason surged forward and hung an arm around his friend, "Stop being so modest, Kelphead! That was amazing!"

Sure, Jason had done the same thing, but he hadn't gone through literal Hell and come back scarred forever, emotionally and physically. But mentioning that topic wasn't wise, so he stuck with just congratulating his older cousin.

"What else do you want us to do?" Percy asked Steve and Bruce, trying to move the attention off of him.

"Well...I guess just do a couple more small things with your powers and then we can be done. I think you've proved your point of not being newbies," he answered.

Percy and Jason smiled at each other once, then nodded at the Captain.

Ω ♆ Ω

"Okay, Frank, let's see what you got! Any special skills besides turning into animals?" Clint asked.

Frank shifted from foot to foot, "Well, I'm pretty good at archery, I guess. Better than my swordsmanship, anyways."

Clint smirked, "You guess? If you're going to be on this team, you need to be completely sure of your skills. So let's see what you can do."

Frank had grabbed his bow and magical quiver during lunch because he figured he would need it for something during this exercise, so he only had to sling the bow over his shoulder to be ready. The quiver was designed by Leo to never run out of celestial bronze and imperial gold arrows. The celestial bronze ones were normal, and the imperial gold were exploding. A combination of both metals would shoot out hardening foam (also designed by Leo) to stop monsters. Or in this case, people.

He set himself up on the first line on the archery range, and let the arrow fly. It hit the bullseye dead-on. Frank turned to look at Clint to find him raising his eyebrows in appreciation.

"Good. But I'm not impressed until I see you do that from a longer distance and on the move, so let's work our way up there, huh? I'm interested in seeing if we can finally have another good archer on this team," Clint said.

Frank smiled, "I've been doing this practically my whole life, so I'd hope I was pretty good by now. Plus, I've been in battle before, shooting on the move."

There was the newfound confidence that still baffled a certain son of Poseidon after a whole year. You go into the deepest parts of Hades with a shy Canadian Baby Man, and then miraculously you make it out and the kid is taller, buffer, and much more confident.

"Sounds interesting... Any war stories you care to share with the class?" Clint asked, intrigued.

Frank's happy expression steeled over, "I think I'd rather keep those to myself, thank you. Maybe another time."

Clint nodded, but you could see he wasn't going to let that go. Frank had made a mistake saying he had seen battle before. It was pretty obvious that the teens had, but he had just confirmed it, therefore furthering the Avengers' curiosity.

So, basically, he had screwed them over further and faster.

With a great sigh, Frank went aimed and shot another arrow, choosing to ignore the awkwardness that had formed between the two archers.

Ω ♆ Ω

Leo and Hazel were... unsure how to react to Tony's exercise, to say the least. They got over to their part of the room and their eyes immediately tunneled-in on the giant block of metal in the center. Nothing special about it besides the fact that it was black, and about four feet tall, and four feet wide. They weren't sure what to make of it.

Tony was beaming next to them, which was a sure sign of nothing good. It was pretty maniacal, too.

"Mr. Stark... what exactly are we doing with this?" Hazel asked.

Somehow, Stark's grin managed to widen even more before he answered with, "Oh, you know, a simple thing, really. I want to see something unique from both of you, so I brought this out of storage. I designed it years ago, not knowing what the hell I would be using it for, but it turns out my genius brain was just preparing me for this moment where I would evidently be training a bunch of teenagers... but anyway! This will mold to any specifications that I need it to, kinda like the LMDs. Just tell me what you're planning to do, and I'll program it to follow your needs."

Hazel raised her eyebrows at Tony's complete disregard for modesty. The others were not kidding when they said he was an arrogant mortal. She was even considering going all "I am your superior because of my divine blood" on him, but then she remembered that that would make her a huge hypocrite.

Leo, on the other hand, was starstruck. He was convinced that he could never come up with even half the stuff Tony invented. He was a true genius in every right. A role model of many Hephestus kids.

"So... who's going first?" Tony asked.

"I'll go!" Leo exclaimed, like an eager child vying for their father's attention.

"Great! That's the spirit! What're you gonna do?"

Leo thought about it, and then the perfect idea came to mind. It wasn't really using his usual extravagant and fiery powers, but it wasn't any less impressive. He wanted to impress Mr. Stark, and this was the way to do it.

"Make it the hardest safe to crack in the world," he answered, a, well, fire lighting up his eyes.

Tony was intrigued, that's for sure. It was pretty obvious what the kid was planning on attempting, but it would be just that: an attempt. Nobody could crack this safe. It was designed by himself personally to house some of his most secret projects for the Avengers. He was literally the only one in the world that even knew of its existence. There was no way Leo could pull off cracking that type of safe without years of preparation.

But, he still programmed the block to make itself into the safe. If anything, it would show these teens how not to underestimate Tony Stark.

"Okay, kid. Good luck," he said, and then whispered, "You're gonna need it."

Leo didn't comment on Tony's quieter remark, but he did smile wider at the prospect of a real challenge. Sure, he could come off as a little overconfident sometimes, but he really was smart and powerful when he tried. He just wasn't a serious child of Athena, he was a fun son of Hephaestus, and he would act as such.

Still, when the block turned into something he had never seen before, he took a deep breath, focused his mind on the task at hand, and got to work.

Tony was smiling wide over his shoulder, interested in seeing how far the kid could get, but little did he know, Leo had this under control. To someone who didn't know him, what he was doing would seem weird, but he was actually just listening to the machine. Yes, listening to it.

He had his ear pressed up against the safe, both hands pressed flat against it next to his head. Leo was already learning the mechanisms of it, and in no time, he would be able to tell the safe to open itself without even lifting a finger.

He was almost vibrating with excitement over how Tony would react. It was sure to be a show.

Sure enough, a little less than a minute later, there was a series of soft clicking heard before the light on the pad flashed green and the door was open.

Of course, it was empty, but Tony was still in shock. A sixteen year old kid had beaten his strongest security system besides JARVIS. It wasn't possible. There was no way that Leo had just cracked his safe.

"No. Not possible," he insisted, turning with wide eyes to stare at the demigod, who had a proud grin on his face.

"Yep, it is. I just did it. Were you not watching?" Leo said, channeling his inner-Percy for sass.

Tony so wanted to protest more, but he knew it was futile. Plus, having someone almost as smart as him around might be some fun. Bruce was always worrying whenever they worked together, and Leo gave off way different vibes.

"I was watching, still working on believing, though," Tony said, "That was some pretty cool shit there, kid. Care to tell me what it was?"

Leo said, "I just talked to the safe. It was a little harder to crack than some of the other ones I've done before, but I got through to it eventually. It was pretty strong. Good work on that design."

"Thank you... I guess," Tony said.

Tony couldn't remember telling Leo who had created the safe, but he figured he would get the same answer as before if he asked. Believing these kids' powers was a little difficult, especially when all of them defied the laws of any science. Tony was starting to think that they were Asgardians, with how they fought and everything.

"Well, let's move onto Hazel. We don't have all day," he said, turning to the daughter of Pluto, who had stayed to the side during Leo's entire turn, "What are you gonna do? It's gonna be pretty hard to follow up on that performance."

Hazel had had time to figure it out while she was waiting, so she answered right away, "I won't be needing the box for my turn. I just need you."

Tony gave her an incredulous look, "What do you need me for?"

"Just tell me a metal. Any metal in the world, and I'll bring it here," she answered.

Okay, Tony was done. There was NO WAY that was possible, and he knew it. He wasn't stupid. These kids were messing with him now.

"Seriously?! I'm not falling for that! You can't do that!" he exclaimed.

Hazel just gave him a knowing smile, "I get that a lot. But I always seem to prove those people wrong..."

Tony sighed, "Okay, sure. Let's do... Vibranium."

He kept a straight face on the outside, but on the inside he was smiling like a maniac. Vibranium could only be found in Wakanda, and they barely had any left. There was no way she could get it all the way here, even if there was any left.

Hazel nodded and closed her eyes, letting her powers search for the precious metal. She had heard of it before from some people in the Underworld. Apparently, it could only be found in a small country in Africa, so she had to widen her search.

It didn't take long to find some, but that was only because what she found was Steve's shield. She hadn't known that it was made of vibranium, and stored that knowledge away for future use. Then, she kept looking.

Soon, she found some and told a very small piece to come to her. You couldn't ask her how it reached all the way up through the tower, but she always just concluded that it was magic. It's the simplest solution.

When she opened her eyes, a content smile on her face, she looked up at Tony with expectation of a shocked outburst, only to find him looking expectantly at her. So he hadn't figured out what she had done yet, apparently.

"Look down," she instructed.

And Tony did. Only to find that a small rock of Vibranium was poking up from the floor. At first, he wasn't sure how to react, but then, he reached down to touch it, trying to make sure what he was seeing was actually true. But before he could put one finger on it, Hazel shoved him away.

"Don't pick it up! It's cursed, you idiot!" she yelled, but then her own face slacked in shock.

She hadn't meant to say that last part. It was the truth, but her powers could definitely be linked back to the gods. She was not going to be the one to let the secret slip. That was going to be Percy or Leo, if anyone.

"That's amazing," Tony breathed, openly staring in shock at the metal.

But before another second had passed, the rock popped back through the floor and was gone as quickly as it had come.

When Tony looked up at Hazel in question, all he got was a shrug in response. It wasn't safe to keep the metals lying around.

Tony physically shook the shock out of him, and said, "Alright. That was pretty impressive, I'll admit, both of you. We can be done for the day. I'm gonna go check out what some of the others are doing."

"Yeah, I'll do that too," Hazel said, turning to Leo. "What about you? What are you gonna do?"

"I think I'll try to help JARVIS find the bad guys," he responded. "I'm getting nervous just waiting for them to blow something else up."

While Tony was walking away, he yelled to Leo, "Don't break anything! Everything here costs more than everything you own!"

Leo wasn't so sure about that, considering the amount of celestial bronze he owned, but he didn't comment on it.

Ω ♆ Ω

Annabeth and Piper were hard to find an exercise for. Neither of them had very obvious superpowers (one didn't have one at all), in Natasha's opinion. She wanted to see how much the others would have to protect them if it came down to a fight of powers. Sure, she didn't have any abilities, but she had also been training how to make up for that almost her whole life.

So, if anyone could find a weakness in these two girls, it would be her, and Natasha was determined to find it.

"Okay girls, this shouldn't take too long. You're only throwing knives at moving targets. The trick is, you won't know when the targets will pop up. You'll be standing in the middle and holographic targets will form around you at random times, always speeding up. If you're as good as you say you are, you can handle this no problem," Natasha said, eyes piercing into Piper and Annabeth.

"Yeah, we got this," Annabeth shot back, standing proud. "I'll go first."

Natasha was not making it unknown that she didn't trust the demigods, and Annabeth was not going to let that continue. Only the "kids" knew what was really going on, so the adults needed to get in line with their way of doing things before somebody got killed. These people that they were hunting had already killed many people, so they knew they were capable of it. This makeshift group needed to be a well-oiled machine by the time they found the bad guys.

"Okay, just step into that square on the ground, and it'll begin. Piper and I will be stepping out of the range," Natasha said, grabbing Piper's arm and dragging her back about seven yards, "Let's begin!"

It seemingly came out of nowhere, the target. Annabeth had barely been able to grab some of the knives from the table next to her before it formed. It was an orange color, and very pixelated. As soon as she shot the arrow right through the bullseye, it exploded in a shower of orange pixels. She barely had time to let that sink in before another one popped up. They seemed to be stopping the knives, but as soon as they deformed, the weapons just dropped to the ground.

It was rapidly speeding up, but it was nothing to being overrun with monsters trying to kill you. Soon enough, the targets started moving, so she had to adjust her stance to hit them where they would be, not where they were.

It was exhilarating. She hadn't had this much of an adrenaline rush in a year!

Her five minutes of throwing seemed to end all-too-quickly. Soon, the targets stopped popping up, and Natasha was walking towards her with an almost-impressed look on her face.

"Not bad, Chase," she conceded.

"Thanks," Annabeth responded, going and helping Piper pick up the knives lying around their area.

When she got to her, her friend looked up, "That was pretty good, Annabeth. I don't know how I'm supposed to follow that, though."

Annabeth rolled her eyes, "Oh, shut up. I could've done better. And you'll do great, Pipes. I trained you, right?"

She had a light twinkle in her eyes that always came when she was joking around (and that wasn't often). Piper had been trying her very best to see it out as much as possible after Tartarus. Percy and Annabeth put on a strong front, but the Seven could all see they were still recovering, and probably would always be. Nobody just jumped right back into things after something as traumatic as that trip through Hell.

But Piper didn't let it be known how proud she was of Annabeth for making a joke; that would only stop the fun right in its tracks.

"Thanks," Piper said, picking up the last knife before replacing Annabeth in her previous spot in the square.

In her opinion, she wasn't doing as good as Annabeth, or making it look as easy, but it wasn't too difficult. She had been practicing all the time on her fighting skills, and she especially focused on daggers. Knives were balanced a bit differently, but it was the same concept. She just had to compensate for the loss of weight.

Soon enough, Piper found the flow and could slightly anticipate when the next target would pop up.

Annabeth knew Piper would be fine doing this exercise. Sure, it got the blood flowing, but it wasn't the hardest thing they had done. They had fought in actual wars.

Before Piper had known what happened, the targets stopped showing up, and the five minutes were up. She was breathing a little heavily, but a giant grin was taking up her face.

"Not bad, either," Natasha complemented, "You will probably be able to take care of yourselves in a fight."

"Probably?" Annabeth glared.

Natasha returned the glare, "Probably."

Annabeth wanted to say more, but a shout from Leo, who had just sprinted back into the room, interrupted her.

"Guys! Guys! We got a hit!" he screamed, eyes wild with excitement.

Ω ♆ Ω

Everyone but Hazel and Tony stared at Leo in confusion and concern. They didn't know that he had gone to work with JARVIS on tracking the bombers.

Tony ran up to Leo, "What? Where?"

"In Las Vegas," Leo answered.

The rest of the heroes had all formed a group around Leo. Percy and Annabeth had naturally gravitated next to each other. At Leo's answer, they clasped hands and shared a look. They knew why Las Vegas was chosen: The Lotus Hotel and Casino. Flashbacks to zebras and old games flashed through their minds.

"What would they want in Las Vegas?" Steve asked.

"Who cares?! We're going to Vegas baby!" Tony exclaimed, pumping his fist. "JARVIS? Prepare the jet."

Tony was the only one who hadn't noticed the oldest demigods' reaction towards

Las Vegas. He didn't realize how bad this could really be. The demigods didn't have the time to make sure the Avengers didn't get stuck in the casino, if that's where they were going (which it probably was).

"Um, care to share what's bothering you two?" Steve asked Percy and Annabeth.

"We've been to Vegas before. If we're going where we think we might be going, this could be bad. You need to listen to us exactly, okay? It's important," Percy answered.

Tony gave him a confused look. "What are you talking about, kid? We'll be fine. I don't need a teeanger telling me how to do what I'm best at."

Annabeth glared at the billionaire, "And what is that; what you're good at? Because I thought it was being lazy and never taking anything seriously."

"Annabeth, just let it go. We'll just have to watch him closer." Percy said, resting a hand on his girlfriend's shoulder.

With one last glare at Tony, and a warning look to the other Avengers, Annabeth stormed out of the training room, heading back up to her room to prepare without another word. Mortals were so stubborn, she thought, especially when you're trying to protect them. It's literally their birthright to protect mortals, and they never let them!

Storming into her room, Annabeth grabbed a duffle bag and started stuffing supplies into it: weapons, spare clothes, ambrosia and nectar, armor, and a couple other things. She was so distracted by her anger that she didn't see the shadows fluctuating in the corner, or the black snout poking out.

She didn't see it until it was too late.

Ω ♆ Ω

"Are you going to tell us what that was all about back there?" Jason asked Percy as the rest of the demigods were walking back to their rooms.

Percy sighed, exhausted with the day but knowing it was not even close to being over, "Las Vegas is where Annabeth, Grover and I went during our first quest together. We got stuck in the Lotus Hotel and Casino. It's the home of the Lotus-eaters. They trap you in there and you don't feel time passing. We were in there for a week without realizing it. It's dangerous, man."

Piper and Jason shared a worried look, and Piper said, "So... we need to keep a close eye on the mortals on this mission, right?"

"A very close eye," Percy nodded.

When Percy reached Annabeth's door, he decided to go check on her. "Go get your stuff. Let's meet in the living room."

"Okay, Aquaman," Leo said, dashing into his soot-stained room.

Percy wasn't sure what he was expecting to find, maybe Annabeth crying, screaming, or angrily throwing things into a bag (that's the most likely), but he was NOT prepared for nothing. Literally nothing; the room was empty. There was an open duffle on the bed, along with a couple of weapons lying around it, but no Annabeth.

He wasn't getting worried yet, though. She could just be in the bathroom. That was a viable option. He would not allow himself to freak out yet. At least not until he checked the bathroom...

... And the bathroom was empty! Now he allowed himself to freak out. He started storming around the room, tossing things around looking for a clue as to where she went, anything!

"Annabeth! Wise girl!" he called, though he knew it was fruitless.

In their lives, nothing was ever as easy as simply calling for someone and they came back. Annabeth was missing, and he had no idea how to find her.

Unless someone was stupid enough to leave a trail of shadows, that is. Looking in the corner, Percy saw that the shadows in the right corner were moving around unnaturally, a lot like what happened after they were used for shadow travel. He had spent enough time around Nico to understand what it looked like.

So this meant that someone with access to shadow traveling took her, and that wasn't a long list. It was probably a hellhound that took her! Oh, were they going to pay.

Percy could feel his powers slipping, and the walls were giving scary creaks. No matter how much he wanted to just explode, he knew that he had to take a deep breath and focus on recentering himself. He would be no help to Annabeth if he wasn't in control. Some part of his brain was telling him that maybe letting off a little steam WOULD help get his powers under control, but no, he promised Annabeth. And Percy refused to break that promise if he could.

"JARVIS!" he yelled, already rushing out the door, "Call everyone to the living room! Now!"

"Right away, sir," JARVIS responded.

Percy ended up just running to the living room, not wasting any time being careful. Annabeth was missing, and he needed to find her and get her back NOW.

His emotions were running high, so he could sense all the water and liquids around him (it was a lot), and it was becoming distracting.

When he got there, only Steve, Clint, and Natasha were waiting so far. Though Hazel and Frank walked in right after him, probably having heard him scream before JARVIS had even called everyone.

"What's going on?" Steve asked, concern filling his eyes.

Percy paced and said, "Wait until everyone else is here. Then I'll tell you."

His mind kept flashing pictures of all his and Annabeth's enemies. Years and years of fighting monsters and wars were playing on his brain. There were so many possible people, even if it probably was the current gang that they were searching for. He didn't want to let himself believe that mortals could be so messed-up that they worked with monsters, monsters that they couldn't even begin to understand. It was so far-fetched, and yet it was his life!

As these thoughts were going through his head, the rest of the team had finally made it in. They were all sporting confused and concerned glances. Natasha seemed to have figured out that one of them was missing, and that it wasn't normal for that person and Percy to be separated. Annabeth was missing.

"Percy, man. Stop pacing and tell us what's wrong," Jason laid a hand on his friend's shoulder.

Percy's eyes got a little misty as he told them, "Annabeth is missing. Taken. She's gone, and I don't know where to find her."

Hazel gasped.

Nothing was right with this. Percy without Annabeth was wrong. So wrong. They needed to be reunited soon, and quickly.

Percy started pacing again, absentmindedly twirling Riptide around his fingers. He had decided that it was best to start in Las Vegas and go from there. There was a good chance that it was the gang who had taken her, and that they were holding her there. It was his only idea.

The others had just been sharing worried looks and a few whispered thoughts before Tony suddenly jumped up, holding his phone like it might explode.

"Guys, I think I know who has her..." he said, making a few hand gestures before his phone screen was projected in front of them.

It was a picture. Of Annabeth.

She was hanging from celestial bronze chains, with a leather gag in her mouth, and shackles on her ankles. Her hair was a matted mess, and she was unconscious. Even so, Percy could see that she had a black eye, probably from struggling. She wouldn't go without a fight, that's for sure. But still, this was not the Annabeth they knew. The Annabeth they knew was a strong force to be reckoned with. This...person was not her.

Percy let out an almost animalistic growl at the sight. They were going to pay, whoever had taken her. All of them.

"It has a note," Tony said, throwing up another picture.

It said:

We are The Truth Seekers. We have your blonde bitch, and she will be dead in the next 24 hours unless you reveal yourselves. The world deserves to know! It is our right to know the monstrosities that go unseen, right beneath our noses! 24 hours, or she's dead. We're at the Lotus Hotel and Casino, another one of the hidden monstrosities in our world. Tell the truth!

Percy was going to kill them. He didn't care if they were mortals, they were going to die. They hurt Annabeth, he hurts back. Worse.

"We need to suit-up, and then we can get going and rescue her. But first, we need a plan," Steve started to speak, but before he could, the world flooded in.

Screw control, Percy thought.

He let the pipes and burst and break the windows. Standing on the very edge of the empty window seal, he let out the loudest taxi whistle the Avengers had ever heard. Waiting only a second for a black blur to show up on the horizon, Percy jumped.

Ω ♆ Ω

other chapters :)

#pjo #the avengers #mcu #avengers #percy jackson and the olympians #heroes of olympus #crossover #fanfiction #fanfic #wattpad #webnovel #inkitt #this is a big fluffy piece don't judge

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prince-toffee · 4 years ago

Text

Entrapdak Month

9. Human AU

“Oh sorry. Is Hector home?” The short woman in purple asked with a smile on her youthful tanned face. Freckles on her cheeks and nose, spread out like stars in the night sky. Her smile wide enough to go ear to ear. Two purple pigtails on the back, a beanie hat covering the top of her head. She wore a sleeveless shirt with ‘Dexter Morgan is my role model’, two strange fingerless gloves, a pair of dirty purple sweat pants and a pair of high welling boots. Also dirty. And muddy. She stood proud, she gave off a feeling of mighty height, always towering with her personality. A bag hanged across her left shoulder. She stood on the welcome mate - which had a red ‘not’ sprayed on it, probably one of V’s pranks. She seemed unphased by it or by the light drizzle of rain that night.

Infront of her, in the doorway of the dark mansion, stood eight or so oddly similar looking siblings. Most towering over her, with the exception of Moe in his wheelchair, and Zed who was ten. All of them looked at each other, heads and eyes turning from side to side, disbelief plastered on their facial expressions. After a few moments of awkward silence of staring at each other the disbelief turned to satisfaction and smug happiness. A smirk formed on each of their faces, except for Lee who never smiled, and Zed who was too young to understand. They looked as if they had won a deal or a prize, which they did.

“Sure. He’s in the living room. He’s been waiting, all nervous like.” said V, he was the one with the short shaved hair dyed red, even though all of them looked identical, boys and girls alike, yet he had a more vulture-y look to him with his pointy chin and even skinnier form then Hector, which Entrapta thought was impossible. His voice held a cocky tone to it.

“Please come in.” The woman with the blue mohawk welcomed her in, moving off to the side giving her space to move past them, gesturing with her hand to come into in the house. This was Dess.

“Oh, thank you.” Entrapta tapped her boots on the not-welcome mate getting off the mud before entering the household. The tap was half-hearted so the boots still left semi-muddy imprints on the nice wooden floor. Which had Moe scrunch up his face at the sight, he decided to just pass it, he was going to take care of that later. But hey, it’s the thought that counts. She was kindly asked to take them off and walk around freely in her socks. Dess gestured to the living room. Once again all observers stayed under the door frame of the living room, looking in on the interaction with giddy expressions on their faces.

Sure enough the short visitor spotted Hector in the centre of the room pacing back and forth, looking down at his phone screen. He looked nervous. Entrapta, from over his shoulder, saw her and Hector’s photo from the science fair, with her name above in contacts. She suddenly realised her phone was buzzing the entire way here, Hector must’ve been texting her all this time. He was always so worried, so self-conscious and unsure of himself, but only around her. She found it cute, in a way. Hector still hadn’t noticed her. Entrapta pulled out her phone and glanced at her messages from ‘Hordikins’, 48 messages unread. A giggle almost escaped her throat, she looked at the stream of continuous texts, her lips curling up. Messages were minutes apart. First:

‘Entrapta, you wished to meet. Where would that take place?’

‘Did you mean at your house? I would like to make sure, I wouldn’t want to intrude unwelcomed.’

‘WAIT, did you mean my house?! Because it is a bad idea!’

‘No. No. No.’

‘That is an awful idea. My Brother would kill me.’

‘My Brother will NOT allow it!’

‘Pls stay away!’

‘No please hold on, that sounded wrong. I’m sorry!’

‘I did NOT mean it like that!!’

‘Entrapta please answer!’

‘I am sorry!!!’

‘We can meet at your household. I could come over to your place.’

‘NO wait i didnt mean it like that either!’

‘Plase text bak’

‘Or call’

‘if you wish’

Entrapta had never seen Hordak’s grammar diminish as it continued, well not in text, he turned to an intelligible red tomato in real life every time he talked to her. And just as she finished reading over the last text bubble a new one blipped in. Hector must’ve heard it, because he turned around, his gaze was met with her own eyes, and for a moment he froze. A blush ran across his face, he was paralyzed on the spot with a heatwave storming inside him. Entrapta took the sight in, he wore a black turtle neck, his standard glasses and a black and gold dress with none of his famous slits - which slightly disappointed her. But it got better when she noticed he was wearing the pair of Star Trek socks she gave him for his birthday, she couldn’t believe he actually wore them. She felt her heart melt a little. She could barely hold back an ‘aw’ and it took all of her willpower to do so.

Hector’s blue dyed hair was messy, like he was, prier to her arrival, running through it frantically. A single lock of hair hung down his face, she looked to see Hector nervous, confused and paniced. They maybe realised that they stared at each other in silence a little too long, so Hector cleared his voice. He combed back the rogue lock of hair to look more presentable. His gaze shifted to the cluster of his siblings in the door way to the living room, pocking their heads in with smiles on their faces. Some suggestive ones too. He scowled at them. He set his phone aside.

“Entrapta, could we step out for a moment?” He asked with a wobble in his voice, trying his best to act tough and strong like he always did.

“No, no. We were all just going out for the game anyway... So you two will have the house to yourselves.” Dess stated as she directed her brothers out to the front door. She and Hector locked eyes, she was up to something he felt like. He narrowed his eyes at them, but didn’t do much else. Entrapta was pretty oblivious to the tension and implication.

Hector rubbed his nose, the unwanted audience wasn’t leaving quick enough for him, so he barked at them to chase them off, “Get out!” he yelled as they exited the house with V being the last one out, showing his tongue to him. The doors closed. He returned his gaze to Entrapta. He gestured with his hand to the coach as he himself sat down, Entrapta gladly followed suit as she plopped down on it. “I- um- I’m sorry about them... W-why are you here, Entrapta?”

Entrapta smiled back at him, “Because I wanted to see you silly. I missed you.” Hector wanted to reseed into the coach and never come out, she missed him? He didn’t know she cared that much for him. He found he didn’t know what to do with his hands so he had them strangely intertwined with each other. “And also because I wanted to show you something!” Stars in her eyes, Hector loved looking into them, he could do so all day. Entrapta unzipped her bag and plunged her hand into it and retrieved an item from it. She held it high into the air, “Ta-Da!”.

“What is it?”

“It’s a movie! I thought we could watch something together. Haven’t seen you all week. I missed you.” There it was again that confession, she missed him. He could not believe it, he couldn’t wrap his head around it. He looked at the DVD cover his guest waved in his face, he did not recognise it, he didn’t watch many movies. Nonsensical activities were not allowed in their household by their big Brother. The first game he ever played was Candy Crush on Entrapta’s phone, two weeks ago. He had very limited knowledge and interaction with pop culture. He did not go out much.

“Again, what is it?” Hector asked discombobulated.

“Well, I don’t exactly know, the blurb is super enigmatic. But I heard it’s really good, or that it’s a sin against god, no real middle ground when it comes to it. But I thought we could watch it together!” She rotated the rectangle container side to side, like a mother dangling keys infront of a baby, “Come on, I know how much you love being negative and critique things. You could actually have fun with it.”

“Fun?! You take that back.” He actually managed to make a joke, and it seemed to get Entrapta as she started to giggle. He really hoped it was genuine rather than a pity laugh. The short woman got off the coach and slotted the CD into the DVD player. Hector almost had a heart attack, they weren’t supposed to use it, it was off limits. He thanked the lord that his older Brother was out of town. Entrapta hopped back to the couch. And laid her own head on his shoulder. He stayed quiet, his pose stiffened, his breathing became heavier, his heart rate became more rapid. He hoped his heart wouldn’t jump out of his chest. He looked down on the resting angel woman, she was otherworldly, outstanding, absolutely gorgeous. He then turned to the screen of the television, and saw the movie starting. Perhaps this wasn’t going to be so bad. This could be fun.

Well, it would’ve been, if he didn’t spot his siblings spying on them through the living room window from the outside.

#entrapdak #entrapta #hordak #entrapdak month #entrapdak positivity month

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chloebeale · 5 years ago

Note

I was rewatching episodes of AF and the scene where Brittany tells Roxy she doesn’t want her there, that gave me major idea vibes of Chloe Beale having an argument with Beca’s father and kicking him out of their home at Thanksgiving for disapproving of their relationship and never supporting his daughter, spending much of Beca’s life absent from her life except to show up and pass judgement. Cause nobody belittles or upsets Beca and gets away with it.

TURNING TABLES

RATING: T.WARNINGS: Homophbia.PAIRING: Bechloe.WORDS: 3.3K.NOTES: Let’s pretend Beca’s father isn’t the same one from Barden pls. Thank you for this, I could totally see it too!

Chloe can count on one hand the amount of in-person interactions she has had with Warren Mitchell. (She’s willing to bet Beca could count hers on two.) Beca doesn’t really talk about him, and given the way he didn’t even walk Beca down the aisle at their wedding, and instead sat in the back with his wife and proceeded to leave before the reception, Chloe already has a pretty clear picture of the type of person he is.

So, Chloe understands why Beca is currently so jittery, why she’s seemingly lost in her own world as she rearranges the place settings at their Thanksgiving-ready table for what feels like the millionth time, and Chloe finds herself watching the other woman sympathetically from across the room.

“Bec, everything looks great,” Chloe states in a gentle tone—though not quite gentle enough apparently, because Beca jumps slightly along with the sound of her voice.

“Yeah,” Beca nods, clearing her throat somewhat awkwardly. Her gaze scans over the table, and while Chloe can’t actually read her mind, she knows she’s still questioning the seating arrangements. Almost like she’s forcing herself away, Beca slowly turns from the table, and Chloe catches sight of just how exhausted she looks. It’s worrisome, considering the day has barely begun yet, but again, Chloe understands it. “I just feel like I need to be doing something, you know? You won’t let me help with the food.” Her brow wrinkles in that familiar way Chloe can’t help but adore, and prompts a subtle smirk in return.

“You remember the green beans last year?” Chloe reminds her, auburn brow arching knowingly. “We were still finding them under the fridge at Christmas.”

“Fine,” Beca grumbles, turning back toward the table without missing a beat. Her hand outstretches to pick up Warren’s name label, though Chloe decides it’s time to intervene.

“Hey, stop,” she mumbles soothingly, pale arms wrapping delicately around Beca’s middle. While she hears a sigh fall from her lips, she also feels the way Beca’s body relaxes into the embrace. “It’s going to be fine,” Chloe continues, her chin resting gently against Beca’s shoulder. Her heartbeat drums gently, hopefully reassuringly, against Beca’s back. Slender fingers settle on top of her lightly freckled arm, and Chloe allows herself a brief glance down toward the wedding ring on Beca’s finger, painted lips tugging up into a contented smile.

Soft fingers squeeze delicately onto her arm, and Chloe tightens her hold slightly. “You just…” Beca’s shoulders slump, volume lowering some, “You don’t know my dad.”

READ THE REST BELOW OR ON AO3!

Given how genuinely wonderful her own parents are, Chloe really can’t relate. She does know she’s glad they’ll be there to act as some kind of buffer today, though. But that doesn’t help Beca’s situation, that doesn’t help to calm her nerves, so Chloe simply pulls her body closer to her own, pushing a gentle kiss into the crook of her neck. “I know,” she whispers softly, “But it’s going to be okay.”

If it were up to Chloe, Warren wouldn’t be joining them at all. But he’s in town for the first time since they moved into their new home, and when Beca had panicked and invited he and Sheila to Thanksgiving dinner, Chloe had been nothing but supportive. She’s very protective of her wife, but Warren is her father, and if Beca wants to try to salvage some kind of relationship with him, then Chloe isn’t going to stand in her way.

Over the years, Chloe has learned to read Beca Mitchell. She knows when she should try to coax something more from her, and when she should leave her to her own thoughts. Right now feels like the latter, and Chloe realizes she’s correct in thinking so when Beca finally releases another soft sigh of defeat, before twisting her body to face her again. Chloe’s arms loosen slightly, though they remain wrapped around Beca’s middle, while Beca’s rise to drape comfortably around Chloe’s neck.

“You look pretty, by the way,” Beca comments, the corner of her lips tugging up into a half smile. “Have I told you that yet?”

Chloe’s soft smirk returns, shoulder shrugging gently. “Mm, once or twice.”

Even after spending the better part of ten years together, it’s easy for them to become entirely wrapped up in one another, completely consumed by the other’s presence alone. And that’s fine when it’s just the two of them, though the sound of the front door opening promptly pulls them back to reality, with Beca freezing in Chloe’s arms.

“Knock knock!” Marie Beale chirps, bright grin plastered across her face as she comes into view. With her dark green dress and small bow holding back her red curls, she’s essentially just an older version of Chloe. “Happy Thanksgiving!”

Chloe’s arms unwrap from around her wife, and she can see the clear look of relief on Beca’s face. Still, even in the company of the most approving of people—Chloe’s parents very much fit that bill—Beca doesn’t love PDA, and tucks a chunk of hair almost shyly behind her ear as she steps out from Chloe’s embrace.

“Hey, Mr. and Mrs. Be—” Beca begins, though corrects herself upon seeing the warning glance shot her way. “Uh… Marie, Andrew.”

“That’s better,” Andrew grins, stepping forward to wrap his daughter into a welcoming hug. Marie quickly pulls Beca into her arms, too.

“Girls, everything smells great,” Chloe’s father comments, stealing himself away toward the kitchen to admire their work.

“Oh, that’s all Chloe,” Beca corrects, following dutifully behind.

Marie shoots Chloe a knowing look. “Green beans incident?”

Chloe nods her head in response, smirk settling onto her lips. “Green beans incident.”

For about ten minutes, there’s a very relaxed, cheerful atmosphere surrounding the four. The food is pretty much ready, and everyone takes the time to huddle on the couches, chatting casually amongst themselves. Beca isn’t a big wine drinker, but she accepts the glass Andrew pours for her, and drinks it perhaps a little too quickly, Chloe notices. However, she chooses not to comment; she knows Beca is stressed, and if a little liquid courage will help her to relax, then who is Chloe to stop her?

For a brief moment, that stress seems to leave her, though the sound of the doorbell almost has her dropping her empty glass, and Chloe quickly glances toward her, offering her a reassuring smile. “Want me to get it?”

Beca shakes her head, handing the wine glass over to Chloe. “No, it’s okay, I’ve got it.”

Chloe responds with a short nod, though exchanges a knowing glance with both of her parents, trying hard not to focus too intently on the sound of Beca greeting her father and step-mother. However, Warren’s first words (“That’s your Thanksgiving attire, Beca?”) are hard to ignore, but Chloe bites her tongue, and proceeds to stand in polite greeting, just in time for Beca to lead both Warren and Sheila into the living room.

“Mr. Mitchell,” Chloe beams, focus shifting to his wife momentarily, “Mrs. Mitchell. You look really nice. Can I take your coat?”

The energy shift between the arrivals of the Beale’s and the Mitchell’s is incredibly apparent, though true to their nature, Marie and Andrew make a point of welcoming the two newcomers warmly into their small party, and both swiftly ignore the judgmental looks they receive in return.

“What are you drinking?” Warren questions, blue-gray eyes moving between the two glasses in Chloe’s hands.

“Oh, just water,” she explains, shaking her glass gently.

“And the wine?”

“Chloe’s favorite!” Andrew responds for her, though Warren has already made his way over to the table, and proceeds to peer curiously at the almost empty bottle.

“This is what you’re serving?” Warren’s brow arches, head tilting as he studies the label, before quickly dismissing it. “Never mind, Sheila and I brought better stuff.”

It’s those comments, the ones that prove Warren Mitchell thinks he’s of a much higher class than everybody else in his vicinity, that cause Beca’s shoulders to sag and her cheeks to darken a shade, but Chloe knows how to play nice, and simply responds with a kind smile.

He doesn’t stop there, of course. He has comments to make about every little thing, it would seem. His chair is uncomfortable, the table is too small, the potatoes aren’t properly mashed. Fortunately, for every negative comment Warren has, both Marie and Andrew have something positive to say, and Chloe does well to bite her tongue. It’s a little upsetting, the way she feels Beca tense up whenever Chloe’s hand slides into her lap reassuringly throughout their meal, but yet again, Chloe understands the resistance. She knows Warren isn’t the biggest fan of their relationship, and while Chloe doesn’t care much for his comfort level, she doesn’t want to make Beca uncomfortable in her own home, too.

“I see you got your mother’s culinary skills,” Warren mumbles as he inspects a shred of turkey. Not for the first time, Beca looks entirely embarrassed, and turns to shoot Chloe an apologetic look, though she’s met with another kind smile, and Chloe gently shakes her head.

“Actually, Mr. Mitchell, the food was all on me this year. If it isn’t good, you don’t have to eat it. I can go whip up something else for you, if you’d like?”

Warren’s brows raise in what Chloe perceives as an entirely judgmental way, and a sickeningly smug look overtakes his weathered features. “Leaving the cooking for someone else? Even more like her mother,” he sneers, turning to shoot his wife a look. Sheila responds with a small snicker.

Again, not for the first time, Chloe bites her tongue, and it’s Beca’s turn to reach for Chloe’s hand under the table this time, giving it a small, reassuring squeeze. The feeling of Beca’s wedding band, the way it sits so comfortably on her finger, only adds to the gentle reassurance.

Apparently, Mr. Beale senses the tension. “Hey, why don’t we do gratitudes?”

“Oh, yeah, that’s a great idea, Andrew,” Beca chimes in quickly, clearing her throat. Her father, meanwhile, practically chokes on his food.

“Mr. Beale,” Warren corrects, “Have some manners, Beca.”

“Oh, no, Andrew is fine,” Marie pipes up, her kind smile the same one Chloe wears. In many ways, Chloe and her mother are very much alike; their fiery red hair, their piercing blue eyes, both with gentle demeanors that will quickly switch when triggered. They both know how to play nice too, though—something Beca is incredibly thankful for. “We’re Beca’s in-laws. We like her to call us by our actual names.”

Warren simply picks up his wine glass, shoulder shrugging briefly, before taking a long swig from his glass. The bottle sits beside him, and he seems to notice the contents are not going down very quickly.

“You know, when someone brings wine to a meal, it’s polite to at least try it,” he says, glare pointed toward Chloe. It doesn’t surprise her that he isn’t her biggest fan, and if her reluctance to try his wine offering is the most he has to throw at her, that’s fine by her.

“Oh, yeah, I’m sure it’s great,” Chloe nods, though motions toward her glass. “I’m fine with water, though. Thank you.”

Her choice in beverage hasn’t been an issue until now, though unlike Beca, Chloe is a wine drinker, and the conversation seems to catch her parents’ attention.

“Is everything okay, honey?” Her mother questions, a look of concern filling her eyes.

“Just try the damn wine,” Warren urges, standing from his seat and picking up the bottle to hand it across the table.

“Dad, no,” Beca interjects, “Chloe…” She trails off, gaze moving toward the woman beside her. Chloe sees clear fear filling her eyes, and honestly, the sight is heartbreaking. Yet again, she shoots her a reassuring smile, hand reaching out to take ahold of Beca’s beneath the table.

“Chloe?” Marie pipes up, that same look of concern still filling her eyes. “Is everything okay? What’s going on?”

Now’s not the time, not with Beca’s very judgmental father seated at the same table, but all eyes are on both Chloe and Beca, and the two exchange an almost cautious glance, before Chloe gently nods her head.

“Uh, yeah,” Beca proceeds, fingers wrapping tightly around Chloe’s. She clears her throat, and Chloe swears she can feel Beca’s palm beginning to sweat. “Everything’s fine. Great, actually.” Blue eyes point downward toward the food, and something they’ve been so excited about for the last two months now suddenly feels like the most terrifying thing in the world. So much so that Beca can’t even continue, not with her father’s stare burning into her the way it is, so Chloe decides to take over.

“Okay, we weren’t going to say anything yet,” Chloe continues, strong gaze shifting between the four sets of eyes on the two of them. “I’m not drinking because,” she glances toward Beca, a softness filling her eyes. “Well, we’re going to have a baby. I’m pregnant.”

“What?” The response is one of shock for the briefest of moments, before Marie rises quickly from her seat, an excited yelp sounding from her throat. “Pregnant? Oh, Chloe! Andrew, we’re going to be grandparents!”

Despite the prior atmosphere, despite the presence of Beca’s father, Chloe can’t help the wide grin that spreads across her lips as both of her parents pull both she and Beca into their arms in congratulatory hugs. She can even hear Beca chuckling softly from the middle of Andrew’s bear hug, and for just a moment, it’s easy to forget that there are two other people in the room, neither of whom has said anything thus far.

“You have got to be kidding me,” Warren suddenly pipes up, the newly stern tone to his voice catching everybody off guard.

Even Sheila reaches out a hand to settle gently on his arm. “Warren, don’t,” she warns quietly, though he promptly shakes her off, clear anger written across his face.

“No, Sheila. It’s bad enough that she insisted on marrying a woman, but now they’re going to bring a kid into this? Mess up your own life all you want, Beca, but a child’s, too? Really?”

For a second or two, it would seem everybody is in shock. Beca opens her mouth to speak, but swiftly closes it again, and Chloe can just tell how hard her wife feels like she has just been punched in the gut. She doesn’t like what Warren says, but it’s that look on Beca’s face, that sheer, undiluted pain, that has Chloe finally seeing red.

“Excuse me?” Apparently, Chloe is done biting her tongue.

“Chlo, leave it,” Beca whispers, hand reaching out to settle on her arm the same way Sheila’s had on her father’s only seconds prior.

“No,” Chloe shakes her head, brows tugging together. Both Marie and Andrew have taken their seats again, and it’s clear that nobody else is going to try to stop her, so Chloe continues. “Mr. Mitchell, we invited you into our home to spend this holiday with us, something Beca won’t admit, but that she has wanted to do for the past only God knows how many years. Her whole life, probably.”—Beca doesn’t correct her, so Chloe proceeds—“We invited you to our wedding, because Beca wanted you to be apart of one of the most special days of her life, and you didn’t even have the decency to stay and actually celebrate with us. You’ve come into our home and basically insulted your own daughter any chance you’ve gotten, and now you think it’s acceptable to talk that way about our unborn child?”

As taken aback as Warren looks, he evidently still has his own strong—and in Chloe’s mind, wrong—opinions, and continues with the same conviction. “A child is supposed to have a mother and a father. You realize it’s going to be bullied, right?”

There’s a rage deep within Chloe that she hasn’t felt before, not like this. While she’s normally the epitome of respect for her elders, Warren Mitchell has lost his right to that by now, so Chloe chooses not to hold back.

“Right, the same way Beca had a mother and a father? I don’t know you, Mr. Mitchell, but I do know that I have spent more holidays, more celebrations, more time with your daughter than you ever have. And the way Beca has been so terrified of you showing up here today, so desperate for your approval, I can guarantee that our baby will never feel that way. Our baby will never have to fight for our affection, because we are going to be incredible parents. Beca especially, and you want to know how I know that?” By now, Chloe has risen from her seat, and again, nobody has tried to hold her back. She hasn’t exactly lunged toward Warren, she’s still in her place, but she towers above him as he glares up at her from his seat, and it’s clear who has the dominance in the situation. “Because you’ve given her the perfect example of what not to do.”

There’s a surge of venom behind Chloe’s words that is almost unrecognizable even to her, and it has Warren glaring back at her, red-faced. “How dare you—” He begins, though Chloe cuts him off abruptly.

“No, Mr. Mitchell, how dare you? This is our home, and I’m sorry, but you’re just not welcome here anymore. I think you should leave,” Chloe states firmly, never breaking eye contact. “That’s not a request.”

It’s not often that Chloe loses her temper, not really. But this is an exception, and honestly, she feels like she’s well within her rights. However, her blinders are up, her pointed glare on Warren and his wife as they rise from their seats, so much so that Chloe doesn’t even think to check on Beca, to make sure that this is okay. Instead, she pushes back her chair and quickly escorts the two toward the front door, ignoring the grunts and grumbles sent her way. It’s only once the door is closed on their unwanted guests that Chloe finally comes back to her senses, back pressed up against the hard wood of the door.

And suddenly, she wonders if perhaps she went too far.

Even more so when the sight of her wife, wide-eyed and almost disbelieving, comes into view.

“Bec, I’m so—”

“Do you know how much I love you?”

The words catch Chloe off guard, stop her in her tracks. It’s not like she doesn’t know it, but a part of her had been expecting a hysterical Beca, or at the very least for her to yell. But she doesn’t. Instead, Beca takes a few steps forward, until small hands are rising to delicately cup Chloe’s blush-covered cheeks, blue eyes meeting blue.

“Of course I do,” Chloe nods, finally finding her words. “I’m sorry, I know he’s your dad, I just—”

“No, you don’t have to apologize.” Beca’s voice is gentle, kind. It’s like all of the fear, all of the hesitation built up inside her has suddenly dissipated, and Chloe suddenly recognizes her again. She’s her Beca again.

“He doesn’t get to talk to us like that, he doesn’t get to talk about our baby like that. And everything you said, it’s all true. You’re going to be the most amazing mother, Chlo. Our baby is so loved already.” She pauses, one hand falling from Chloe’s cheek to rest feather lightly against the small, barely visible swell of her stomach hidden beneath the loose fabric of her dress. “We’re both in the best hands possible.” Beca stretches up slightly, soft lips brushing against her wife’s.

“Seriously, Chloe,” Beca whispers, closing the gap between them. She doesn’t care that Chloe’s parents can see, doesn’t care that there’s anybody else in the room with them. It’s just the two of them in Beca’s mind—or three—and she chooses not to hold back, the same way Chloe hadn’t only moments before. “Thank you.”

#beca mitchell #chloe beale #bechloe #bechloe au #bechloe fic #mine #mine:writing #anonymous #question #turning tables

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ladyalice101 · 5 years ago

Text

jonsa fic recs

alright, i’ve had a couple requests for recs, so here is my list. these are all fairly recent fics, all written this year i think. all of them are from my bookmarks on ao3, but i picked the recent ones which are my god-tier recs, my oh-my-god-i-love-this-so-much-i-think-i’m-going-to-die, the ones i reread. they have very little in common, but if you don’t find anything on here that tickles your fancy, then feel free to check out my bookmarks. i have just over 100 on there, and every single one on there are fics that i think are absolutely phenomenal.

for @abi117 @why-cant-i-be-careless and @orangeflavoryawp

canon divergent

Victory by moutainsbeyondmountains. one-shot, 5489k.

“You won already, Your Grace,” Tyrion said mournfully. “Enjoy your victory. There are no lands left to conquer. And there are no more dragons.”

if you read no other fic on this list, read this one. seriously. it’s d.ny pov, and glorious. genuinely, i couldn’t give this high enough praise. i reread this A LOT. like, a lot a lot. i could probably quote this fic.

I Want Something so Impure by @asilentfrenzy. one-shot, 10166k.

“You have caused this, you and your queen. You allowed her to speak to me that way, allowed her to order my obedience in my own home as if I’m to be her new dog to train. I am the Lady of Winterfell, and your inbred aunt has no right to-”

“Aye, you are the Lady of Winterfell,” he growled, his eyes flashing with an added flame of fury at the mention of the woman’s newly found relations to him. “The same Lady of Winterfell who not too long ago advised me to be smart, yet it seems that you can’t follow your own advice.”

“Be smart,” she repeated, filling her face with a look of mocking humor. “By kneeling? By allowing her to seize my title and command my people? Perhaps I should offer her these chambers as well. Better, I’ll just offer them to you again, seeing as I’m sure you’ll be sharing a bed. Shall I fuck her as well? As I want to be just as smart as you, Jon.”

so if you couldn’t tell from the summary, this one is sassy af. it features darkish/dominant!jon, which is my jam, and is pretty much just 10k of smut, which is also my jam.

it’s a small crime, and i’ve got no excuse by mxash. 5/5, 8214k.

“did you see her?” sansa snarled, a hand come to pull at his collar, pulling his mouth down only hairs from her own. “your targaryen queen has dressed as though she was a whore to catch your eye.” jon smirked as she bit his lip. what was this? dany had almost recoiled in her disgust and shock, but she hadn’t been able to pull herself away from the horrific sight. my lover and his own sister.

this one serves some dark!jonsa realness, and it deserves more comments/kudos. it is written entirely in lowercase, but don’t let that distract you. the characters are dark, and devoted, and who doesn’t love d.ny catching jon and sansa fucking? seriously, this one is a must-read.

Dark in Bloom by @orangeflavoryawp. oneshot, 8304k.

"His gravity wavers, the axis of his world tilted to the measure of her lips." - Jon and Sansa. The stain of desire bleeds slowly between them.

yeah orange, i’m reccing one of your own fics to you. seriously though, this is just like ... mindblowing. i cannot overstate how much i love this one. i literally will just randomly remember it sometimes, when i’m just going about my daily business, and i’m like “shit, that fic by orange was a masterpiece. love it.” so, yeah, if that doesn’t tell you how much i love it, then idk what will.

what i’m asking by @amymel86. oneshot, 1173k.

"I'm not here to talk about that," Theon says, setting off another, thankfully smaller coughing fit. "I'm here to talk about Sansa."

Jon can feel the blood drain from his face. "Is she ill?"

Theon shakes his head, lifting his eyes to Jon as he coughs into his fist. "No," he finally says, his lungs giving him a small reprieve. "The Queen is in her prime. Which is why you are needed."

okay, ya’ll obvi know of amy. she writes so much fantastic fic. but i feel like this one kind of flew under the radar? which is a CRIME tbh. this fic was so ... it was so heartbreaking, but in the best way. it’s not that divergent from canon, bc the main thing that is truly different is that theon lives. seriously love this fic.

A Toss of the Coin by Paige242. one-shot, 3793.

Years after the war, the Queen in the North and the pardoned Queenslayer welcome their first child. Old traits emerge, and Jon worries about this Dragon in a den of Wolves.

ok, so this is a future fic where jon and sansa married. i don’t even know how to describe this one. it isn’t jonsa focused, but that doesn’t make it any less brilliant. it is so unique, and i’m yet to read another fic that explores the idea of one of jonsa’s kids inheriting some targaryen madness. there IS a part two, which was just as amazing. pls do yourself a favour and read this!

Choose by @esther-dot. oneshot, 5630k

“I know the cost of our loves. I know too well how they fall on the scale, one outweighing the other. I know what you tried to tell me. I know.” She was looking at him now, and he was afraid, but he would say the words that he had been unable to silence. “I never had the chance to choose you, but I would. I would choose you every time.”

THE DIALOGUE IN THIS IS INCREDIBLE. i just reread this to try and find my fave quote, but i actually can’t even pick. there are just so many amazing conversations, between sansa and jon, sansa and d.ny, arya and jon .. ugh, the list goes on. love this, please read.

Wink Wink, Nudge Nudge by alltheshinywords. one-shot, 3187k.

Post 8x03, slightly AU. Tormund and Jaime inexplicably find themselves becoming matchmakers when they notice a certain chemistry between Jon Snow and Sansa Stark. Extreme fluff and silliness.

this one is the least angsty on the list, and honestly it’s just such a good time. i remember reading this while s8 was airing, and honestly it was just so light hearted that i laughed out loud several times, despite being heartbroken over what happening in the show.

canon, but alternative universe

leave behind a love story by aetherae. one-shot, 9562k.

Maybe if things had been different, they wouldn't be like this. They would be worse.

ok, so, despite the summary, i naively went into this expecting a happy ending. yeah, so, no. however, this was one of the most interesting fics i’ve read in a while, because each universe it explored was so different to the ones i usually see floating around. and the writing was SUPERB.

i fell in love with a war (and nobody told me it ended) by mountainsbeyondmountains. one-shot, 18752k.

In which the North and the South have been at war for years, and Sansa unexpectedly finds herself on the run with a certain Targaryen bastard.

this is an avatar/bender au, and it is GLORIOUS. after i read this, i promptly devoured every other fic this author has written bc i loved it so much. the bending is just a backdrop to the amazing enemies-lovers this fic delivers.

modern au

Fuel and Fire by @zarahjoyce. currently 4608k, 4/?, WIP.

"You see?" Sansa says, smiling now. "If you really have to have a room far away from me, seems like you need to move into a different hotel." As an afterthought she adds, "Or to another planet."

"Bet you'd just love that, wouldn't you?" Jon asks her.

"Loads," she snarls.

He takes a deep breath, all the while just looking at her.

Truth be told Jon will give anything in the world to be able to just-- just--

Jon and Sansa, and all the tropes applicable to them.

All. The. Tropes.

ok so zarah in general writes AMAZING fic, they’re always so creative and inventive and i’m always genuinely shook by the fic they write. but like, this one is the god tier one BC TROPES.

when we kiss: mmmm, fire by @dancemajicdance. 8/8, 39705k.

Sansa might be seeing someone casually, but thanks to Arya, Robb, and Theon, it’s Jon who’s got the inside track on how to get Sansa to take him seriously.

aka: the one where jon finds out that sansa has a daddy kink, and he uses it to seduce her away from the dating scene and into his arms, heeeey-oh!

yes yes, it’s a daddy kink fic, and it’s fucking glorious alright. if that’s not your thing though (even though i’m pretty sure this fic is EVERYONE’S thing) then please, for the love of god, check out the rest of their stuff on ao3. you won’t regret it. even though they don’t write much jonsa anymore, the prolific contributions they HAVE made will go down in history as some of the best jonsa ever written imo.

As Long As We're Going Down by @alienor-woods. 9/12, currently 42228k, WIP.

Four years after Stannis Baratheon wins the Battle of the Blackwater, Sansa Stark finds herself summoned back to King's Landing to serve as a bridesmaid at Crown Princess Shireen's wedding. When King Stannis tries to marry Sansa off to his illegitimate nephew, Edric, she thinks quick and tells him she's already married--

--to her bodyguard, Jon Snow.

i actually don’t know how to explain how much i love this. it’s written so beautifully, and it’s so realistic and just ugh. read it. the adaption to modern royalty is the best i’ve ever read, and the characters are very raw, and very realistic. (also, yes, the characters have gotten together at this point in the story, in case you were scared of committing to a wip without the satisfaction of some hot and heavy scenes).

#jonsa #jon x sansa #jonsa fic #fic rec #jonsa fic rec #actuallyjonsa

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