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fandom-puff · 4 years ago

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Muggle Contraption

Pairing: Newt Scamander x reader Requested by: anon Prompts: A8 (with toys), A14 (face sitting), from smut list Summary: Newt finds an intriguing muggle device while looking for some plasters... AN: The original request had like 5 of the smut prompts in it, so I’ve ended up splitting it between a few different imagines :) also this is my first time writing for Newt Scamander, so I hope it’s okay!! Warnings: Toys, face-sitting, smut.

“They’ve got to be here somewhere,” newt mused aloud, searching through the drawers, careful not to drip blood on anything. One of his creatures had given him a little nip. He wasn’t angry with Roger, not in the slightest- poor little thing must be in terrible pain with that swollen ankle of his. He’d have to have a proper look at it tomorrow once he’d bribed him out of his little hollow with plenty of leaves...

Still, having run out of his own bandages, newt was looking through your makeup drawers- he’d seen you using cotton wool pads to remove your eye makeup a few times. they would do the trick.

Aha! He found the cotton pads and picked them up, fumbling with his hand for a moment. He was about to put them back when he noticed something shiny in the draw. odd. You kept your lipsticks in the drawer above. He shrugged, picking up the item and getting ready to put it in the right drawer when he stopped. It was smooth metal, much too heavy, and a little too long and thick to be a lipstick. had you gotten a new one? he smiled, twisting the top. He hoped it was a new red one... you always looked so lovely with red lipsticks...

It was not a red lipstick. The little metal cylinder started buzzing angrily at him and he almost dropped it in surprise. “Finate,” he mumbled, but the buzzing didn’t cease. It was a muggle contraption then. He fiddled around with the top again, frowning as it only seemed to buzz harder, before twisting it the other way. He let out a sigh as it stopped, and he quickly set it back where he found it. he would have to ask you about this when you got back.

“How was your day?” you asked as you finished your dinner, moving to wash the dishes.

“Alright,” newt replied. “Roger got a little nippy though,”

“Poor dear. Is his ankle still sore?” you hummed, setting the scrubbing brush to do its job by magic as you dried your hands and went to see newt. You picked up his hand and inspected it.

“I used some of your cotton pads,” he said softly, looking up at you shyly as you kissed the little mark on his hand. It was healing over nicely.

“That’s alright. They have something in them that stops them from irritating my face. Must’ve cleaned the bite mark up,” you mused, kissing his cheek.

“YN... did you know your new lipstick buzzes?” he blurted and you looked up, blushing deeply.

“New lipst-oh...” you whispered, shutting your eyes.

“Is that magical too? Because I don’t think you need anything to enhance your lips, YN... they’re beautiful,” he said bashfully, trying to get you to look at him.

“It’s not... It’s not lipstick, love,” you mumbled, shifting in your seat. “It’s... it’s a vibrator,”

It was quiet for a second before newt asked “What’s it meant to do? Vibrate, obviously, but what for?”

you blushed even more, burying your face in your hands. “For... to... it’s a toy, Newt,” he looked more confused than ever. “A sex toy. Wizard’s don’t really have them, there’s spells and stuff but, I... I like the muggle version,”

Newt’s mouth formed a little ‘O’ shape. “could you... could you show me, YN?” he asked quietly, as red as you, possibly even redder. You shifted on the spot for a second before nodding, leading him to the bedroom.

You drew the curtains and switched on the lamps, before retrieving the toy from its place. You turned to see Newt standing on the spot. “Lay on the bed, darling, next to me,” you said gently. “You can take your clothes off if you want. I’m taking mine off. It’s comfier that way, but I don’t mind if you-”

“YN, relax,” he said gently. “Come here beautiful, lets get you out of that dress,” you blushed, flinging the toy on the bed and letting Newt slowly undress you. You clambered into bed next to him, pleased that he was shimmying out of his trousers and shirt.

You nibbled your lip as you turned the toy on its lowest setting. “Okay...” you murmured, calming your nerves as you laid back, relaxing into the pillows, as you trailed the toy up your thighs, teasing them open, before running it up to your tummy and breasts. You repeated this motion several times, biting your lip and letting out little sighs as the vibrations ran through your skin. You turned it up to medium, paying close attention to your nipples, circling the buzzing tip around the peaking buds. You let out a soft moan, arching your back slightly, and Newt swallowed a groan

“M-May I?” he asked, and you looked over at him with needy eyes, pupils dark as you nodded. You handed him the toy and he smiled, kissing your temple and turning onto his side, propping himself up on his elbow. “You’re so beautiful, YN,” he whispered, copying your earlier actions on your nipples, ducking down to lick gently when the toy was on the other. You moaned quietly, spreading your legs, feet together.

“newt,” you moaned quietly, stroking your fingers through his hair. “please... please use it on my... my...” you couldn't finish your sentence, because newt smiled and obeyed your every wish, holding the vibrating cylinder to you aching clit. You whimpered softly, tipping your head back. Newt hummed softly, reaching to kiss you, still holding the toy on you, but pressing just that little bit harder. You panted and wriggled, tangling your hands in his hair and-

You were coming. He swallowed your moans, kissing you gently, and soon eased off the pressure on your clit. You still jolted and spasmed, crying out softly. He chuckled gently, setting the toy aside and tugging you into his chest. “I imagine it must feel very... pleasant,” he said after a moment.

“Would you like to try?” you asked, your voice soft and small, but already filled with longing despite your earlier release.

He looked at you with wide eyes for a moment, before nodding. you pushed him gently onto his back and slipped his underwear down his thighs, tossing it aside. “YN... darling, I want... I want...”

“Want what, darling,” you asked gently, knowing he often blushed and bumbled over his dirtiest requests. “Can’t give you what you want if I don’t know what it is,” he nodded and took a breath.

“I’d like you to... to ride my mouth, while you do... it,” he babbled. “Please,” he added on the end, and your heart melted. you nodded, allowing him to hoist your thighs up either side of face, bending you in a sort of 69 position.

“Ready?” you asked quietly, and he nodded, his tentative tongue already flickering over your sensitive pussy. You groaned quietly, switching the toy on and swirling it gently over his inner thighs, pleased to see his muscles twitch slightly. When you let it trace over the underside of his balls, right where they joined to his perineum, he let out a high groan, which vibrated against your entrance as he probed it with his tongue. You grinned slightly, trailing it up between his balls, letting it rest on the underside of his shaft for a moment, letting him feel the vibration as he swirled his tongue around your clit. You were both already throbbing, but neither of you were quite done yet.Swallowing back a whimper, you switched up the setting, letting him feel the hard buzzing on the head of his cock.

That seemed to set something alight in him. He gripped your thighs hard, sucking your clit harder than he ever had before as you pressed the very tip of the toy to the head on his cock, teasing the slit slightly.

“YN,” he moaned lowly against you, thighs quivering uncontrollably.

“Let go, baby,” you moaned, sitting up and riding his face properly still holding the vibe to his cock, albeit a little clumsy now. He let out a cry against your soaked heat as he came, his come splattering your hands as he bucked his hips desperately. You whined out louder, as you came, clenching on his tongue. Tigether, you rode out your highs, quivering, shaky and panting as you flopped next to him, cleaning the toy and bedsheets, licking his come from your fingers as he wiped his mouth. You vanished the toy back to its drawer and nuzzled into his side.

“That was... wow,” you murmured, hooking your leg over his as he drew the covers over you. He held you close, kissing your head gently.

“You’re so very beautiful, YN,” he mumbled, already exhausted from the intense orgasm you had gotten out of him. You smiled and kissed him gently. As you settled down to sleep, you couldn’t help but imagine his face if you told him there were toys designed specifically for penises and prostates...

Tag List: @obsessedwithrandomthings @haphazardhufflepuff @diksy1112 @zodiyack @axriel @hiddensapphic @samnblack @tinylumpiaa @in-slytherin-we-trust @thatoneasrastan @emmaloo21

#newt scamander #newt scamander x reader #newt scamander smut #prompts #requests #fantastic beasts #fantastic beasts imagine #fantastic beasts smut

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impishnature · 4 years ago

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Iron Blessing

So! Here we are! The first of what I’ve jokingly dubbed ‘Imptober’. This actually is number one in the list but I’m not sure I’ll stick to it as some I’m finding harder than others to think up ideas for.

AO3 Fandom: Good Omens Rating: T+ Prompt: Shackled Summary: Crowley could really use some angelic intervention to get himself out of the hole he’s dug himself. Small warning for violence/injuries.

"What? No witty one liner this time?"

"I thought you didn't like them?" Crowley smiled, wide and vicious, bloodstained teeth visible as he spat to the side. This wasn't quite how he'd expected to be spending his day but then again, when did anything ever go to plan for him?

The man before him scowled, a deep, dark expression that was filled with loathing and disgust. "Whatever you're trying this time, it won't work."

Crowley rolled his eyes, hating that his sunglasses had been removed, although grimly satisfied as every movement of his pupils seemed to make the guy more nauseously repulsed. "Obviously." He rattled the chains that held him tight against the wall, his arms stretched further than was comfortable and his feet barely touching the floor. Every small jostle caused another spike of pain to spark down his arms, nerves alight with electricity, but he refused to show that pain as he nonchalantly looked around the room.

Whatever he did, it unnerved his target more and more with every passing second, and without a plan or any means of escape, it was about all he could muster in the hopes of somehow getting free.

"Mind slackening these off a bit? I'm starting to lose feeling in my fingers."

The man snarled, stepping closer, their faces inches apart. "Why should I? You don't deserve any mercy."

"Charming. Real religious of you, that is." If Crowley could move he'd have tugged at the clerical collar around the other's throat. So, maybe he'd been trying to tempt him into things he really shouldn't have been, luring him away from his religious teachings and the like, but weren't these people meant to be all about forgiveness and that other rubbish?

"As if you're one to talk." Crowley bit his tongue at the once over he was given. His quick witted tongue had got him more than one punch over- well, however long he'd been chained to this wall- and he was slowly learning that perhaps staying quiet was more likely to get him out of here quicker. "I don't know what you thought you were going to accomplish coming after me, but you chose the wrong person to mess with..." He wished he could wipe that stupid smug smile off of his face. "And soon you'll be back where you belong."

"Oh? Where's that? 'Cause I could really go for a bite to eat right now- oof."

Crowley winced, coughing at the sudden gut punch. OK, so, he wasn't the fastest of learners, but who could blame him when he kept giving him openings like that? He grunted as his head was pulled back, his hair taut and tugging at his scalp until he was eye to eye again with his captor.

"Joke all you want, soon your vessel will be free and you'll be back in Hell." Part of him almost wanted to laugh. His vessel? Oh, if only they knew how it actually worked. If it wasn't such a worrisome thing to be cast from his body the way they planned, he'd almost like to stay and watch their victory turn to horror as the body crumpled before them, only ever having been his. A particularly hard yank dragged him from that hysterical amusement, made him curse and the man's smile widened. "Just a little while longer. Enjoy yourself while you can."

And with that his head was dropped, the jolt causing another bolt of electricity to snap down his arms. He bit the inside of his cheek to stop the cry that wanted to bubble from his lips, refusing to be vulnerable, refusing to be anything but the monster they thought he was. He waited until he was left alone to give a shuddering breath, to wince at the manacles biting at his wrists and try to gently roll his shoulders from the pain. All it did was cause more issues, each movement a burn across already red raw skin, but everything ached enough that he couldn't quite stop himself from trying.

"Shit, what have I gotten myself into here..."

"Yes. What have you?"

Crowley's head snapped up in surprise, his entire body flinching and causing another stream of pain to circulate his system in a spasm. He cursed, eyes screwed shut, though the relief swelling in his heart outweighed it all as he opened one eye painfully and stared at the apologetically concerned, though also somehow irritated, face before him. "Angel, you have impeccable timing as always."

"I try my best." Aziraphale shuffled forwards, looking over his shoulder as he did so. "I'm not sure how much time we have-"

"Should be a little while, he only just left."

Aziraphale nodded. "I thought I saw someone leave this room, it's why I'd hoped I'd found the right spot." His eyes trained back on Crowley's, his eyebrows furrowing deeply as his hands outstretched uncertainly, hesitant and hovering around him. "Why on earth are you letting him hurt you like this?"

Crowley huffed, rolling his head to one side to stare at him disbelievingly. "Like I'd let him if I had a choice." He shook his hands, belatedly hissing at the movement before grumbling through gritted teeth. "Ble- fuck- blessed chains. Thought your lot had stopped making these years ago."

Aziraphale winced sympathetically, though his eyebrows were vanishing into his hairline. "So had I. There were memos and everything against creating such things- I haven't heard about anyone being allowed to bless items for the humans like this since the 15th century."

"Yeah, well either this guy is an avid collector or someone on your side is ignoring protocol." Crowley shrugged, before looking between Aziraphale and the manacles pointedly. "So... any chance of a hand? Or did you just come here to gloat at my misfortune?"

Aziraphale ruffled at the accusation. "I came to find you, thank you very much." He put his hand on Crowley's chest, steadying him, as his other hand flew upwards, a faint miracle burning Crowley's wrists even warmer before the binding snapped entirely and with a groan of relief he fell forward into Aziraphale's waiting arms. "I will admit, I didn't think I'd find you in this state."

"Yeah, well, I wasn't expecting it either." Crowley hissed as Aziraphale accidentally pressed on forming bruises, wishing yet again that he could put his glasses on as the other eyed him carefully, concern ever present amongst his fluttering hands. "Not every day I get a job like this."

"Why didn't you inform me you had a job? Isn't that part of our arrangement?"

"Yeah, well, couldn't have you interfering with this one." Crowley clung tightly to Aziraphale's coat as he made to move away. "Sorry! Sorry, don't-" He sighed as Aziraphale huffed and pulled him upright, steadying him once more. "I just meant that I was being watched. Kind of put my foot in it down in the office. Hadn't done enough demonic temptations recently and it was made rather clear that they thought I was losing my touch." He rested his head against the other's shoulder, relaxing into the hold as his legs felt like jelly beneath him. "Couldn't have that. Not if I wanted to be able to stay top-side with you."

He'd probably hate being quite so honest when he'd slept for a week, which was entirely what he planned to do once they got out of here.

"You still should have told me." The words were faint, disappointed in a way that made his heart ache. "What would you have done if I hadn't found you?"

"Well, we don't need to- wait, how did you find me?"

The tips of Aziraphale's ears went red from where Crowley could see them. "I told you, I came looking for you."

"That doesn't answer the question."

"You weren't in your home asleep, and you hadn't been to see me in a while. So naturally I got worried."

Crowley blinked at him for a few moments as they wobbled forward, watching his rather determined stare directly away from him before grinning as widely as his forming bruises would allow. "You didn't."

"I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about."

"Oh, you do. What will management say when they find out you used a miracle to locate a demon?"

Aziraphale sniffed. "If I had done that- which I didn't- then I'm sure I could justify it, such as making sure you weren't getting up to any of your serpentine tricks."

"Mm-hmm? Maybe don't tell them your next miracle was helping me escape then."

"I have no intention of giving paperwork in on any of this." Came the soft mutter beside him. "And now is not the time for this discussion. I'm assuming you're not up to getting us out of here?"

"Unfortunately-" Crowley tried to stand on his own two feet, before promptly falling into Aziraphale's side. "-that'd be a no."

"Of course." Aziraphale finally looked at him, expression trying for unamused but falling short at the image he was obviously seeing, something that Crowley would feel utterly mortified by if he wasn't still on a strange high from the angel coming to get him in the first place. "You owe me one for this."

"Always, Angel-" Before the words were quite off of his tongue, there was a jarring pull to the back of his collar, not dissimilar to the jolts the manacles had sparked around his wrists, and suddenly they were back in a familiar bookshop, the smell of old paper and tea catching him off guard as he stumbled off course at the motion.

"Easy, I've got you. I've got you." Aziraphale muttered words to him as if it was a mantra. As if he was worried he would pass out on him as he shuffled them both over to the nearest couch, propping Crowley up like a limp puppet before kneeling back on the carpet with a wounded noise. "Dear me, you are a sight."

"Charming." Crowley huffed out a pained laugh, letting himself sprawl into a lying position as Aziraphale knelt before him. "S'not my fault I look good even with a few bruises." He couldn't help but smirk at the cluck of disapproval he received for his smart response. He opened his eyes ever so slightly, too exhausted to do much else. "Thanksss. Angel."

Aziraphale blinked at him, shocked and confused by the gratitude. "Of course. I couldn't just leave you there."

"You could have." Crowley let his eyes fall closed again. "Probably should have, really." When his words gained no sharp response back, he opened them slowly, frowning as the other ignored him, eyes focused on something else entirely. "What?"

"What's that on your wrists?"

Crowley's frown deepened. He pulled his hands up towards his face with much difficulty, his limbs struggling to hold their own weight let alone fight gravity right now. He had assumed that there might be red raw skin from the manacles and was about to jest as much but the thick covering of black, charred scales that spread wherever the cold metal had touched made him speechless for a second too. "Oh, must be a reaction to the blessing." He winced, rubbing his fingers across them to assess the damage, as painful as that was, even as Aziraphale made a pained noise and pulled his hands apart. "Easy, angel, I just needed to see how damaged they were. Scales are weird, you don't really feel when they're burning. A couple of sheds will hopefully do the trick." He tried to smirk again, though he wasn't sure if it came out as more of a grimace. "Guess I'll have to make sure I wear long sleeves for a while."

Again, his words were ignored as Aziraphale continued to stare down at the hand within his grasp. Fingers trailed across his palm, sending goose bumps and heat across his body in a far different and far more pleasant way than the manacles had. The fingers slipped further, softly tracing scale and skin, flitting worriedly where they met as if testing the waters, testing if it hurt, before gaining courage and pressing on the wounded flesh itself. Crowley gasped at the moment of pain before a cooling sensation washed over every imprint, each touch a soothing balm that coated each individual scale and sealed it over, every press a wash of relief that melted into muscle and sinew and relaxed them all from their coiled state.

Crowley stared down at his wrist quietly as Aziraphale moved onto the other. It looked the same as it had before, the softest of miracles caressing his skin as if the angel still held him, medicating him so that he could heal with some respite.

When Aziraphale was done with his other wrist, he sat back on his haunches, the pair of them staring at each other as if not quite sure where to go from here.

Another appreciative comment was locked to the tip of Crowley's tongue, unsure whether to let the moment lie or break it where it sat.

As the moment stretched on and on though, the other watching him for signs of further pain, he felt obliged to do so. "Tha-"

"Don't."

He knew he shouldn't have tried.

Crowley sighed as he was cut short. Of course they weren't going to talk about things like rational beings- when had they ever been rational? Communicated? He got it though. If they didn't bring it up then it didn't happen and Aziraphale didn't have to think about why he had done the things that he had just done. Didn't have to defend himself in fear that he'd have to do the same again once he went back upstairs.

But maybe more importantly, if they didn't talk about it, he didn't have to think about what all of this actually meant, deep down.

Crowley knew all the things that could be spinning in his head, they'd spun around his own often enough. They were always orbiting one another but at different speeds, never quite connecting at the right time for both of them and always missing opportunities that could have changed everything.

He couldn't say he wasn't disappointed though, even as tired as he was in that awkward silent moment.

Thankfully, Aziraphale broke it, changed the entire momentum of their orbits, almost bringing their trajectory back into their normal, pleasant routine.

"Perhaps Downstairs was right."

"Excuse me?"

Aziraphale raised an eyebrow, mouth tweaking up in that way that suggested he was up to no good. "That you're losing your touch. You've never gotten yourself into quite that much trouble before with just a simple temptation."

Bastard.

Crowley tried to sit up, the hand on his chest stopping him as he was pushed back down on the couch. "How was I supposed to know the priest they were sending me after was a certified exorcist?"

Aziraphale stared him down, anger and shock mingling in his gaze. "They didn't tell you that before they sent you on the job?"

Crowley blinked back at him before groaning, head flopping back against the arm of the chair. "No. No, they did not. Happy? Fuck all details are ever given down there. You deal or you don't. No one cares."

"...Of course I'm not happy. Not at all."

Crowley looked back over as a hand softly trailed across his temple, that glimmer of righteous anger still visible in the angel's eyes as he no doubt took in every bruise across his face. He raised a hand to stop him, wrapping his fingers around the other's wrist and softly pulling it away. "No more miracles, angel. You'll start to cause suspicion."

"I can't just leave you like this."

"You can. And you will." Crowley winced as he shuffled, twisting himself into a more comfortable position. "I just need some rest and I'll do it myself. Don't you worry. I'll be back to my stunningly gorgeous self in no time." His cocky grin was no doubt marred by the yellow and purple mottling across his cheeks but it seemed to soften Aziraphale's face nonetheless.

"Then you should rest."

Crowley nodded. This was more than their arrangement had ever dictated, but he knew better than to push further. The last time he had tried he had moved too fast and he refused to break this moment, especially when he was so exhausted and vulnerable. He didn't want to cause distress, or for the other to feel the need to defend his actions and take him back to his own minimalistic flat to deal with this alone.

...He really didn't want to be alone right now.

So, if the angel covered him with a blanket when he thought he had fallen asleep, or softly carded his fingers through his hair, soothing his scalp... Or Heaven forbid, whispered softly above him-

"Rest. No one will hurt you here, my dear. I promise you that."

Well, his lips were sealed.

No one would ever find out that he had escaped only due to an angel's intervention.

And he would never bring up the obvious affection and concern the other seemed to hold for him, unless the other brought it up first.

#good omens #good omens fanfiction #crowley #Aziraphale #imptober 2020

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40sbarnes · 5 years ago

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Medici: Spymasters of Florence

Chapter 2: Ring Ring

so here’s part 2!! sorry it’s been a while lol, i will be trying to post a new chapter every sunday from now on

pairings: lorenzo x reader (slowburn), lowkey some francesco x reader but not really

"Work for you?" You questioned, your harsh hold of the blade against Lorenzo's neck faltered, but only for a second. By the time he took his next breath, the cool steel was threatening to break skin again as the air made its way through his body.

“Isn't that what you do, thief?" His title for you sounded like it pricked his tongue as it left his lips.

"Maybe," you shrugged shamelessly, not everyone could be born into the richest family in Florence, "but why?"

His eyebrows furrowed for a moment, his smirk remaining on his lips no matter how close you got to slicing a viral artery. "I thought you were smarter than that, y/nn," he tutted. You despised how calm he was even with your favourite dagger to his throat. "You work for the Pazzi's," he mused. You already knew what he was insinuating, but you had decided to go down the clueless route. Try your luck.

"You know nothing of what you speak, Lorenzo," you shook your head slightly, your eyes trained on his, "that was a once off," you lied effortlessly.

"You're not making this easy for yourself, y/n," he warned.

"Need I remind you that it is I who has a knife to your throat?" You were quickly wearing of his overconfidence. You were in control here.

"Need I remind you that you're in my home, the Medici home, and I could have my men in here within a second if I pleased," his cocky smile faded, his anger finally showing as he bared his teeth at you.

"Go ahead," you raised an eyebrow, calling his bluff as you repositioned the knife so the tip of the blade was aligned with his Adam's apple.

You could see his frustration clearly. "What would be the point in both of us dying?" He questioned, trying to recollect himself. You knew he was trying to utilise his infamous 'way with words' you'd heard of.

"You're right..." you sighed, acting as if you were going to pull away before using your free hand to cover his mouth. "Call your guards now," you grinned, your eyes wide with excitement as you slowly tipped his chin upwards with your knife. You watched as his own grew bigger with fear. You had finally shaken his facade.

Lorenzo tried to speak, but it was muffled by your palm. "Please," he mumbled against your fingers, you hadn't expected him to beg you so quick, you moved your hand away slightly. "I'm not stupid either, I know this is about gold for you. You know I have more than the Pazzi's. But if you would work for-" he lifted his chin higher, straining as you dug the knife under his chin, a millimetre from spilling blood onto his carpet, "work with," he corrected himself, sharing a smile with you when you approved of it, loosening your grip slightly, "you could still get paid by the Pazzi's, and then get the same from me with barely any extra work," he finally finished his pitch.

"Double," you negotiated, stepping back from him, finally freeing him from your grasp, your blade still in your hand. He ground his teeth together after scrunching his nose at your proposition, you were clearly testing him.

"I don't know if you're worth that yet. All I've seen is a failed attempt to steal some parchment and you not so slyly break in here," Lorenzo teased, raising his brows as his grin returned, "I don't even know if I can trust you yet, and you don't appear to be the best thief."

"Do you truly think so little of me?" You scoffed, raising your hand to reveal the ring he had been wearing previously, now in between your thumb and forefinger, shaking it slightly as if you'd performed a magic trick. "Ha, ha," he laughed dryly. "What about your loyalty?"

"The trust is part of the fun. Double or nothing," you held your hand out, so he could take the ring back.

"Keep it," he sighed, walking back around the table to sit in his chair, "double it is." He knew you were well worth it, no matter how irritating you were. An inside (wo)man was invaluable at this time. He needed you.

You grinned, slipping the ring onto your finger as he began tiredly talking to you about your first mission.

——

You played with the ring idly where you sat waiting at the Pazzi fountain. You had always loved it here, the atrium was forever peaceful. You had been doing odd jobs for Jacopo for a couple years now, although he hadn't had as many for you as of late, you always delivered, just like you were doing now. You felt into your bag to ensure the parchment Lorenzo had returned to you was still there. It was all in his plan. You could still betray him. You had the parchment. You could tell Jacopo you only went along to get it back. Sure, he'd be upset you lost it in the first place, but your new intel was worth so much more, he wouldn't even care about your mistake. You were pulled out of your thoughts of becoming a triple spy by a voice.

“Who's the lucky man?" Guglielmo seemingly appeared out of nowhere, taking your hand to admire your new jewellery, his head almost in your lap as he took a seat beside you.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" You teased, ruffling his hair slightly as you pushed him away, both of you chuckling. You heard the familiar creaking of Jacopo's door opening. You turned to face the sound, seeing Francesco exit the room, seeming disgruntled. His eyes jumped between you and his brother.

"Y/n?" He greeted, a trace of a smile appearing on his lips. You hadn't seen him for a while, seeing as you weren't around as much.

"Francesco," you stood up, straightening your dress as you did. Your eyes locked, and you stood still for a moment.

"Bellodini," Jacopo's voice rung throughout the atrium as he stood in the doorway impatiently. He simply motioned towards his office and you followed.

Francesco grabbed your arm just before you entered. "Will I see you later?" He questioned, his face hiding any emotions he might've been feeling.

"Will you?" You countered, before going into Jacopo's office.

"Close the door behind you!"

—-

He'd never say it, but it was evident Jacopo was delighted with your work. He had only assigned you that job a day ago, he clearly expected it to take you longer to find a secure way into the building without being caught. You didn't care to mention that you hadn't precisely located that point. It didn't come up.

"Thank you, Messer," you dipped your head slightly as you accepted the small purse of coins. You made a mental note to collect your subsequent pay from Lorenzo. "Is that all?" You questioned, ready to leave.

"Not quite," Pazzi lifted the parchment you'd retrieved to a candle burning on his desk, watching as it set alight, "just one more small task I wish of you for now."

You closed over the office door on your way out, your new orders fresh in your mind. You were deep in thought, wondering whether to just complete it or run to Lorenzo first.

"Y/n," Francesco turned away from his conversation with his brother when you emerged, "are you busy?" He held his chin high, his voice rough as he asked the question.

"Always," you reminded him, sliding your payment into your bag as you walked through the atrium to leave.

"Perfect," he grinned, falling into stride beside you, "we can catch up," he threw an arm around your shoulder. You couldn't help but laugh as you shook your head at his audacity.

"Bye guys!" Guglielmo called as you left him behind.

"Bye!" You both yelled, turning backwards to wave before making your way back onto the busy streets of Florence.

——

"I missed you," Francesco admitted, as you walked away from a perplexed stall owner, chuckling together.

"I don't blame you," you shrugged, although you couldn't hide your smile at his words. You didn't really have anyone, at all, really. Francesco was probably your only friend, even though you acknowledged that you were defintiely not his only one, he was always there for you. You didn't care much for friends, but you cared for him.

"I missed you too," you finally conceded. His smile reached his cheeks, and in that moment you decided you wouldn't bother telling Lorenzo about your new mission just yet. You'd see what you discovered first, it would probably be nothing anyways. You figured there was no point in having to talk to him for a dead end.

"How couldn't you?" He teased, as you stopped walking. "It's getting dark, I'll walk you home," he decided.

"Oh will you?" You lifted an eyebrow. "Who said I was going home?"

Francesco didn't respond at first, how was he supposed to? "Be careful?" It was more of a question.

"You know I always am, besides," you smiled, before sliding back the slit in your dress to reveal the dagger he'd given you in its holster on your thigh, "you always walk me home," you winked.

Francesco's hand fell onto yours to push your skirt back, his eyes shooting you a warning although a small grin remained on his lips, "you still have that?"

"Goodnight, Francesco," you leant up to give him a brisk hug, ignoring his pointless question, before leaving him on the street.

—-

The wind was colder by the docks, it always was. You made your way down the cobbled road towards the gathering of stalls by the largest dock. It was a black market of sorts, but to you it was just an easy place to sell the goods you borrowed. You had just so happened to borrow some other shiny things when you had been leaving the Medici's, besides the ring.

You approached Carolina, the older woman you always dealt with. She gave the fairest prices, although that wasn't saying much, and seemed trustworthy enough. You dropped your bag down onto the wooden counter as a greeting.

"Hello to you too, y/n," she opened your bag evaluating the goods. "You haven't stayed away long, when did I last see you? Wednesday? Have you snaked your way into another rich family?" She smiled jokingly.

You held back a laugh at how accurate she was without knowing it. "Rich family?" You acted oblivious.

She lowered her voice before speaking again, one of the reasons you believed her to be trustworthy, "don't act like you just didn't spend the day with that Pazzi boy." She knew you did jobs for the Pazzi's, you had shared a drink one lonely night, but luckily she had never broken the trust you stupidly placed in her.

"You know I'm a lot smarter than to steal from such a family," you rebutted. You would never steal from the Pazzi's at least.

"This is some fine china," she commented, taking it all and stashing it away, before handing you your gold.

You examined it, it seemed generous. Thank you House of Medici. Before you had a chance to pocket it, Carolina grabbed your hand, turning it over to look at your ring.

"Not selling this?" She questioned, her eyes fixed on the jewellery.

"Oh," you had forgotten to take it off. You had meant to put it in the bag with the rest.

"It's not like you to accessorise, dear," she pulled away, allowing you to put your money away, "so what's your price?" She always loved a good haggle.

You began to think, glancing at the ring on your finger, just imaging how much you could get, but all you could think of was Lorenzo telling you to keep it. It was quite beautiful, the gemstone - whatever it was- caught the light just right. "It's not for sale."

#lorenzo de medici #lorenzo #medici #medici: spymasters of florence #lorenzo de medici x reader #medici fic #medici: masters of florence #medici: the magnificent #daniel sharman #daniel sharman x reader

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ahh-fxck · 4 years ago

Text

Modern Gay Bar AU: Warrior’s Blues Chapter 2

Hey guys, it’s here! I DID IT! I did the thing! Chapter 2 is complete for your reading pleasure. Hope you like it :)

Author’s Note: This fic deals with some pretty heavy themes, including but not limited to alcohol, homophobia, military trauma, and PTSD. You have been warned.

Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24903460

A big thanks to @stressedspidergirlsfandomblog , the best beta in the world.

Tag list: @astouract @smolpoe @yes-im-the-violin-girl @ladyknight-keladry

Please let me know if you would like to be tagged for future installments!

Chapter 2: Do I Look Like I Have A Permit?

“Selling drinks to minors?” He asks quietly, as Jaskier hangs up the phone with a heartfelt curse and then picks it up to dial again.

The younger man nods, lip curled in a snarl, punching the buttons on the base of the phone as if he could slake his rage on them. “Fucking ass cocking cheerios, yes, and of all the nights-” There is the sound of a voicemail beeping coming out of the handset, and Jaskier snaps, “Julia, if there’s any God in heaven right now you will pick up this damn phone. I need a bartender yesterday. Call me if you get this tonight.” He slams the handset back down onto the base and presses his fingers to the bridge of his nose, slumping down to sit on the desk.

Geralt shifts awkwardly again, eyes playing over Jaskier’s graceful body as he hunches in thought. His eyes drag over his sequined shoulders, linger on the soft hairs at the nape of his neck. The skin on his chest pulls hotly and prickles as he studies them, searching for words. “Uh…” he manages, throat tight, then grimaces. “No one else to call?” His insides feel like they are fizzing, the sensation making it hard to think clearly.

“Mmph,” Jaskier mumbles, flapping his hand at the cards in irritation. “No. No, my staff isn’t very large, and I’ve never… never had to call back up on Pride.” A quick grin, more a snarl, flitted across his usually soft face. “Tips are too good. God’s cock, Lars is a fucking idiot. I swear if I see him again I’ll-”

“Do you need help?” The words tumble out of Geralt’s mouth before he can think them all the way through.

Chapter 2: Do I Look Like I Have a Permit?

He awakens an unknown amount of time later to a rhythmic buzzing that shakes the bed frame subtly. As he lifts his head, the sound resolves into a thumping bass beat that reverberates through the whole building. He sits up, swinging his legs off of the bed, and scrubs his face tiredly. His stubble scrapes against his palms, his bandages, his injured hand beginning to distantly throb as he awakens. His head is still swimming faintly, and the sensation of his aching hand doesn’t feel quite real. The humid air is cooler now, taking on a clammy quality in the old brick room, and it smells faintly of the night.

He sits for a long moment with his face in his hands, trying to pull himself together. The sleep has helped, but the clarity it brought carried with it unmistakeable despair, as well. Staring numbly at his boots, he feels a wave of shame creep up his body as he remembers again what he’s lost. He eventually fumbles them clumsily on, desperate for something to do with his hands, some way to feel less vulnerable and lost. The process is hampered by his injured hand, but he manages it eventually. He barely has time to steal another guilty look at the phone before he hears the bang of the back room door slamming, followed by raised voices.

“...Kids, Lars! I swear to fucking Jesus Christ on rollerskates, you absolute asshole, if I get shut down because of you I will find you. You always check ID, especially on 18 and up nights! ALWAYS,” There was a mutter, and the louder voice cut it off, “I Do Not Care if it was dark, you absolute fucking dumpster fire of a human being! This is literally what I pay you for. NO! That is what I paid you for. Get out! Out, out, out! You’re fucking fired, and if I catch you anywhere near any of those fucking boys, I will personally see you to the fucking hospital!” The last word is roared, loud enough that Geralt startles on the bed. The springs creak as his body jars, and as he is beginning to stand, the door to the office bangs open. Jaskier, alight with fury, barges into the office and seizes a rolodex on the desk, flipping through it with short, sharp motions.

“Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, fucking bag of cocks, FUCK!” he swears. Abruptly he stops, stormy blue eyes coming up and fixing on Geralt standing awkwardly near the bed. “Ah, fuck me. I’m sorry, I hope I didn’t wake you,” he says, pulling a face. “I ah, just had to fire my bartender in the middle of the rush.” His gaze drops back to the rolodex, still flicking furiously. “Fuck me, I don’t think any of these assholes are even going to be near their phone at this time of night. Not on fucking Pride…” His voice shakes with stress as he pulls out a few cards, tossing them onto the desk. Geralt watches silently as he begins to dial, shifting from foot to foot.

“Selling drinks to minors?” He asks quietly, as Jaskier hangs up the phone with a heartfelt curse and then picks it up to dial again.

“Do you need help?” The words tumble out of Geralt’s mouth before he can think them all the way through.

Jaskier groans out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “Oh, darling, do I ever. But what could you possibly do? Bounce? Bartend? Have you even been behind a bar before?” He drops his head into his hands, soft chestnut hair falling over his face as he rubs his eyes. “Fuck me,” he adds as an afterthought, muffled between his hands.

“...I think you underestimate the amount of time servicemen spend in bars,” Geralt finally says, a lopsided smile creeping across his face. “I can make most drinks in my sleep.”

Jaskier’s head comes up, and he eyes Geralt suspiciously. “Drinking is not nearly the same thing as mixing, dear heart,” he says doubtfully, but Geralt can tell from the way he is hesitating that he is at least listening.

Sighing, he steps away from the bed and goes to lean against the wall in front of Jaskier, crossing his arms across his chest in a confident gesture. Here, at least, he is on solid ground. He may have lost everything, but he knows drinks. “Old Fashioned. One teaspoon simple syrup, two dashes Angostura Bitters, orange peel, two ounces of rye or bourbon, one maraschino cherry.”

Jaskier draws back, tilting his head to the side as he listens with a little furrow between his brows.

Warming to the topic, he feels more sure of himself as he begins to list ingredients without a second thought. “Dark and Stormy. Two ounces of dark rum, five ounces ginger beer, garnish with a lime. Long Island Iced tea. Half ounce gin, half ounce vodka, half ounce rum, half ounce tequila, half ounce triple sec, two tablespoons fresh lemon juice, spoonful of sugar, ice cubes, cola, garnish with a lemon wedge.” Geralt begins, slowly, to grin. It feels good to surprise Jaskier, to show him that he’s competent. “I can keep going.”

“How…?” Jaskier finally asks, mystified.

Geralt’s grin widens, and he finds his eyes traveling down Jaskier’s half-naked body, then dragging slowly back up again. As their eyes meet, he drawls, “Always had a good eye for proportions.”

Jaskier sits back a little further, small spots of color forming on his cheeks, but then narrows his eyes at Geralt. “What about a Cuban Rose?” he asks, suspicious but also intrigued.

Geralt replies promptly, “One and a half ounces white rum, three-quarters ounce orange juice, and a dash of grenadine. I can do more.”

“Dark N’ Fluffy,” Jaskier presses. He is still eyeing him doubtfully, but his eyebrows shoot up as Geralt replies.

“Two ounces marshmallow vodka, two ounces chocolate liqueur, one ounce cream, garnish with mini marshmallows and cocoa powder.” He chuckles, shaking his head. “Tastes like an easter egg kicked you in the teeth, but to each their own.” He can feel his body beginning to relax as he speaks about the drinks, feeling on firmer footing at last.

Jaskier sucks air between his teeth thoughtfully, then says, “Mai Tai.”

“Hmm… That’s a trick question. Do you want the Trader Vic’s version, or the crappy one?” Geralt fires back.

Laughing, Jaskier raises his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay. Fine. Got a server’s permit?”

“Do I look like I have a permit?” Geralt retorts, drily.

Jaskier tosses his head back and barks out another laugh, then shakes his head. “No. No, I suppose I can’t have everything.” He hovers on the edge of his desk, hesitating, then throws up his hands. “You know what? I can’t think of a better way out of this. You’re hired for the night.” Pushing upright, he bustles out of the office and into the dimly lit storage room beyond. “Come with me, let’s get you started.” He flings his arms out in a broad gesture, declaring merrily, “If I’m going to go out of business for breaking the law, I want it to be with drinks all around.”

“Hmm,” Geralt drawls, finding himself oddly charmed by the showy way Jaskier moves. Pushing off the office wall, he follows him into the storage room beyond.

Jaskier gestures around, pointing at necessary supplies. “Beer kegs, cups, napkins. The bar back knows where everything is, but don’t let him touch the cocktail shaker, the man is a menace. Mm, let’s see, straws… Yes. Alright, let’s go, darling, out front. It’s going to be loud, are you ready?” He pauses, blocking the doorway, turning an appraising eye on the big man behind him.

Drawing up short, Geralt also pauses as he reflects on the question. Normally, he would have scoffed and barged right past Jaskier out into the club, but he was still frazzled enough from earlier that the question merits a moment of consideration. Finally, he nods. Fierce blue eyes rake across him, and this time he meets the gaze steadily, unflinching. That seems to satisfy the younger man, and he gives a quick nod.

“Well, then, let’s be off!” he cries, pushing through the door and into the noisy, crowded club.

A wall of sound, scent, and colorful light hits Geralt like a truck as he steps out behind Jaskier onto the dance floor. Booming bass in a disco style beat thrums through the bodies as they dance, and a woman’s voice threads tinnily out from the speakers. “Look around, everywhere you turn is heartache, it's everywhere that you go,” she sings, Jaskier weaving along the wall towards the bar. “You try everything you can to escape, the pain of life that you know. When all else fails and you long to be, something better than you are today, I know a place where you can get away. It's called a dance floor…”

Geralt sets his shoulders and puts his head down, following quickly after Jaskier, trying not to look too closely at the people he is passing. The scent of sweat and cologne and sex is thick on the air, making him dizzy. It is with palpable relief that he ducks behind the bar, glad to put a solid piece of furniture between himself and the beautiful, gyrating people on the dance floor.

Over closer to the bar it is much quieter, even with the growing crowd queuing for drinks. The bar itself is surrounded by small tables, places where little knots of people gather to sit and drink together off of the main floor. He feels a little lost as he watches two men lean together, tongues sliding into each other’s mouths. Heat races across his shoulder blades and pulls at his groin, mingling with a sharp twist of fear. He is relieved when Jaskier begins to speak, half shouting over the music.

“Okay, darling, here’s how it’s going to work. I will show you where everything is, you show me your chops, and you get to keep the tips. Make sure to split them with the kitchen and bar staff, or they will hate you for life, I warn you now!” He begins bustling around behind the bar, identifying taps, pointing out hidden locations of necessaries like maraschino cherries and clean towels, then steps back. “Okay, I think that’s everything. Questions?” Geralt looks around the bar carefully, memorizing the locations of everything. Someone calls a complaint out to Jaskier, who holds up his hands apologetically. “We’ll be right with you, gorgeous! One moment!” His gaze returns to rest on Geralt, who is cracking the knuckles of his uninjured hand thoughtfully against his bicep.

Finally, Geralt shakes his head “I think I’m all set. Who’s the bar back?”

Jaskier grins, turning to shout back over his shoulder. “Yarpen? Where the fuck are you? It’s slammed out here!”

Around the corner of the kitchen door, a short, wiry man with a bald head and a full ginger beard appears almost immediately. “Here, just replacing the orange sli- hello,” he breaks off, taking in the towering figure of Geralt standing behind Jaskier. “Why, aren’t you fine!” The man’s green eyes twinkle playfully, his teeth flashing in a crooked grin. He is dressed in jeans, a leather harness adorning his spare, muscular torso, and a nipple ring winks up at Geralt in the dim light of the bar.

Rolling his eyes, Jaskier steps out from between the two of them. “Yarpen, this is Geralt, our new bartender for the night. Play nice, he’s new in town. Geralt, this is Yarpen, my bar back. Don’t let him get to you, he’s an idiot.” And with that, Jaskier smacks Yarpen’s muscular shoulder lightly. “If he needs to know where anything is, show him. Run the register. Keep an eye out in case he misses anything.” Turning to Geralt, he taps the man’s broad chest, “And check. Every. ID.”

Geralt grins easily down at Jaskier, studying his cerulean eyes, taking in his soft handsome face as it sets in a ferocious expression. His golden gaze lingers for a second on his thinned lips before flicking back up, eyes locking with Jaskier’s. “Got it. Check IDs, don’t fuck it up.” His body hums with the nearness of the other man, blood still fizzing like champagne. He feels better now, confident, almost forgetting to be afraid and heartsore as his eyes travel across the face in front of him.

Jaskier’s tongue flicks across his lips briefly as he considers Geralt, then seems to shake himself, nodding. “Exactly. Don’t fuck it up. I’ll be at the door if you need me.” He whirls, making apologetic noises to the deepening crowd at the bar. “Sorry darlings, had a minor emergency. Meet Geralt, your new bartender!” And with that, Jaskier flits out from behind the bar and races back to the front door of the club, relieving a man in a cook’s apron. The broad-shouldered man has wild red hair and an ominous frown, but as he approaches, Geralt sees that most of the lines on his face are from laughter. He moves aside, noting with surprise that the cook is even bigger than he is as he slides around him and passes into the kitchen. Then he turns to the crowd. “Right. Who’s first?”

#modern au#geraskier modern au#geraskier pride week 2020#gay bar#gay bar au#modern gay bar au#geralt#jaskier#geralt x jaskier#jaskier x geralt#geraskier#geraskier fic#geralt of rivia#julian alfred pankratz#pride#witcher#the witcher#the witcher fanfiction#the witcher fanfic

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c-rose2081 · 5 years ago

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Red Roses

Day four of the EOA Ship Appreciation Week on Discord. I really appreciate this challenge so far, as it’s just giving me reason to flush out my new favorite ship XD today’s theme was music/favorite ship, so more Isabel x Quique ❤️

—

Isabel was bored. Nursing a fluke of soft champagne, a heavy sigh escaped her lips. Of course she loved to support Elena as Queen of Avalor, but at the same time, being cooped up in the palace after an entire year in the vast spaces of Cordoba felt somewhat burdensome.

Dressed down in a simple turquoise bell dress, Isa made sure no one important saw the drink in her hand as she mindlessly twirled a ringlet around a finger. Her eyes watched Gabe and Naomi float easily across the dance floor. They both looked content, Naomi proudly sporting the baby bump which would eventually become a new addition to their little household. Eyes drifting again through the bodies, Elena was sitting on the steps of the throne. Baby Vista sat in her lap, looking almost as bored as Isa felt.

Mateo was doing his best to entertain the baby with his magical Jaquin trick, but the half Sirena girl apparently wasn’t so easily amused. Clucking her tongue in humor, Isa downed the rest of her champagne in one go. Of course she had drank her weight while away, but Elena certainly didn’t need to know that; neither did Gabe, who was almost as unnecessarily overprotective as her sister.

Handing the cup to a passing hand, Isa shivered suddenly as a presence suddenly appeared by her side. Fearing a nobleman wanting a dance, she slowly turned only only gasp as her wrist was grabbed and she was pulled out the nearby balcony doors. Stumbling awkwardly for a moment, she eventually came to rest in strong arms.

“Quique?”

“Hola, chica.”

Staring up at the boy, he had a snarky look on his face, like he had just pulled off the most amazing prank. Hitting his chest lightly with a scoff, Isabel pulled away.

“Don’t do that. I could have screamed, and you’d be in jail.”

“Oh come on, don’t get your dress tied into knots.” Smirking still, Isabel couldn’t help the smile which flicked onto her lips.

“What are you doing here anyway? I told you I was busy tonight.” Placing both hands on her hips to appear more cross then she was, Quique responded in kind, dwarfing her small frame with his broad one.

“Oh yeah. Real busy hogging the champagne and warding off possible dance partners.”

“You’ve never been to a Royal event, obviously.” Shaking her head with an exaggerated eye roll, Isa couldn’t help but chuckle, “so what do you need?”

“You.”

“What?” Tipping her head to one side, Quique motioned to himself, “I am your date tonight. And we are going dancing.”

“Are we?” Isa challenged, lifting a fine brow, “we can dance here.”

“Nah. This isn’t where the party’s at.” Waving his hands in faux irritation, the young man motioned downwards, “the party is down there. This? This is boring,”

“Can’t argue your logic on that one.” Isa admitted l dryly, “alright. What do you suggest? We can’t just walk out the front doors.”

“When have we ever done that?” Quique questioned, “come on, we’re going over the wall.”

Pulling her to the balcony’s edge, a long rope dangled down to the grass.

“Did you climb all the way up here to get me?”

“Sí, Princessa. Aren’t I romantic? Now are you going to come willingly, or will I have to carry you?”

“I’m offended that you think I’m some damsel who can simply be picked up and wisked away.” Isabel scoffed, unable to keep the laugh behind her teeth. Nodding to the rope in challenge, Isabel stuck out her tongue as she flipped over the balcony edge, curling her foot in the rope’s thick embrace as she slid down with ease. This left brown scuff marks on her shoes, but it didn’t hurt Isabel’s feelings any as Quique zipped down after her, his long dreads waving in the breeze.

Unhooking the rope as it fell down to earth, Quique caught it and grabbed Isabel’s hand, pulling her to the wall. Scaling it as she had done dozens of times before, Quique’s horse was waiting on the other side, grazing mindlessly.

“After you,”

“Shut up.”

Smacking the boy’s chest with the back of her hand, Isabel mounted side saddle, Quique’s large arms coming to rest around her sides as he took the reigns. Close to him, Isa could smell the hint of dust still on his skin from being out all day, and see the worked muscles of his neck as they flexed. The young princess kissed him quickly, smiling as though she had stolen something important. Quique smiled right back, the two of them galloping away from the palace and towards town.

Isabel almost wished the ride was longer, as she loved the feeling of being cradled against a strong chest. But as they trotted into the square, it was alight with life. The air smelled of baking and flower perfumes, a small mariachi group playing music. Couples in their Sunday best danced and whirled across the cobblestone, laughing as they were passed from one partner to the next. It made Isabel’s heart leap with excitement.

“Told you the party was better down here.” Quique joked, allowing his horse to stand at the water trough as they dismounted, “now, you’re my date. So how bout a dance?”

“Please.”

Feeling the boy take her hand, Isabel’s smile wouldn’t fade as they entered the fray. It was magical, being twisted and spun so easily. Isa almost wished she wore a larger skirt, as she felt free and wild.

It was several songs before Quique pulled her aside, towards a small stand where a woman was giving flowers.

“Wait here, chica. I’ll be right back.”

Nodding and partially grateful for the break, the woman behind the flowers smiled softly.

“Ah niñita. A red rose for you.”

“What for? I have no money, señora.”

“From me to you. For a woman in love. Tuck it behind your ear for luck.”

Taking the flower, Isabel gladly did as the woman said. As she did, Quique returned to her looking smart, but also quite soft.

“That looks nice on you.” He complemented, “come on, one more dance.”

Nodding, Isa gladly let herself be led out. This time, they went straight to the middle of the square. Softly, one of the band members began to strum on an acoustic. The music was slow, and reminded Isabel of her late grandfather as Quique gently rocked them back and forth, twirling her round carefully, but keeping her only a finger length away. Isabel was completely taken by the song, her eyes stinging with memories and love. She was dipped down, her hair brushing the stones. Upon return Quique reached up and undid her ribbon, allowing the chestnut waves to fall down her shoulders and back.

Out here, there was no stuffy party or nobleman wanting a dance. There was no wall just outside keeping her in. She was free and young, and so desperately in love that it hurt. Not realizing she was crying, Quique used a thumb to wipe it away.

“Are you happy, amore.” He whispered into her ear, the voice deep and soft as she shivered in delight and nodded.

“Yes. Kiss me?”

Spinning her around again, neither teen cared they had an audience as Quique gladly took hold of her hips, pulling her close as their lips met. And as the music pulled them deeper into love and tenderness, Isabel smiled as she remembered the flower in her hair.

Maybe she’d wear them more often.

#disney #cartoon #animated #elena of avalor #isabel castillo flores #fanfiction #quique #cute #romance #ship appreciation week

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hqwkeyes · 6 years ago

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Champagne

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 1519

Warning(s): alcohol consumption, language (only a little bit), fluff

Summary: Y/N successfully completed her mission and, upon her return, decides to celebrate with Bucky in the wee hours of the morning.

She arrives at the compound at around 2 am. Fury told her he would have someone handle the paperwork and to get some well-deserved rest, but she wasn’t all that tired despite the late hour. The difference in timezones left her wide awake, actually.

She dropped her bags off in her room to unpack the following morning—or afternoon, depending on when she would wake up—before strolling into the kitchen to grab a snack. There’s a dim glow that peeks into the hallway leading to the room, indicating that someone either left a light on or that someone had the same idea as her. She safely decided that it was the latter, as F.R.I.D.A.Y. likely would have switched off the light if it had been left on accidentally.

Striding into the kitchen, she discovers a disheveled super soldier.

“Good evening, Barnes,” she says comically and much louder than someone should be speaking at two in the morning.

“It’s 2 am, Y/N. Did you just get back?”

“I did. Mission successful, as per usual.”

“Didn’t expect any less from you,” he says with a soft smile. He might’ve had a hard exterior, but Bucky Barnes was a big softie on the inside. He had taken a liking to Y/N. She never treated him as anything other than normal, but was there for him when he was having a rough day. She also made jokes that Sam was often the subject of, which delighted him.

“Why thank you, James.” He quirks an eyebrow at her using his first name, but dismisses it a moment later. “Would you like to join me in my celebration?” she offers. “Or will I be a party of one tonight?”

“What do you have in mind?”

She makes her way over to one of the cabinets, moving in graceful waves. There’s something about her that’s captivating, Bucky thinks. Something that drags him in like a riptide. Maybe it’s the fact that she’s the perfect balance of caring and care-free, drifting around lazily while simultaneously crashing about recklessly. She’s some kind of paradox or oxymoron in and of herself.

She opens the liquor cabinet, which Tony has set at a specific temperature so the fluctuating temperature of the kitchen doesn’t disturb the alcoholic beverages, and reaches up to retrieve a certain bottle.

“I think my success calls for a drink,” she says, waving a bottle of champagne around in her grasp. “Care to join me?”

“You know alcohol doesn’t affect me, right? I can’t get drunk. I’d just be watching you get drunk.”

“Of course I know that. I tried to get Steve drunk a few years back and it ended with four empty bottles of wine and Steve carrying me to bed as I mumbled about,” her voice trails off. “I swear he told me the next morning but I don’t remember. It’s irrelevant anyway. Are you gonna drink with me?”

“I guess I am.” He chuckles.

“Great!” she says, thrusting the bottle into the air gleefully. “Let’s pop this bitch open.”

She begins rummaging through drawers for a knife, her reckless side coming out a bit more.

“Oh my God,” she freezes before turning to face him. “Can you just flick it open? Y’know, with your super strength and all? That would be such a sick party trick!” He stares at her for a brief moment before bursting into a fit of laughter, covering his face with his hands.

“You don’t even need this alcohol right now,” he jokes as he calms down.

“Wait I’m serious though. Can you do that?”

“How about we figure that out another time. Hand me that towel over there,” he says, pointing to a towel hanging behind her. As she retrieves it, he starts preparing to safely open the bottle.

“You’re no fun, Barnes,” she pouts, tossing the towel in his face. He chuckles and motions for her to come closer. She does, and he places her hand on top of his flesh one that rests on top of the bottle.

“Let’s pop it open together, okay?” he says, and she nods, squeezing his hand a bit.

“Three, two, one,” they count down in unison before popping the bottle open. A little bit of the liquor spills, but only because Y/N tipped the bottle a bit too far.

She pours each of them a glass and he makes a toast.

“To your successful mission.”

“To my successful mission.”

The two of them polish off the bottle by around 3:30. Y/N is a bit tipsy by then, but not too tipsy. She’s even more whimsical, bubbly like the beverage they’ve been sipping on, Bucky mentally notes.

The two have been chatting for a while, their conversations growing sillier and sillier as Y/N grew more inebriated. She shares stories about past missions and stupid shit that Steve has put her through. He especially loves the story about how Steve nearly gave her a heart attack when he was shot and had failed to notify her that he was wearing a bulletproof vest. Somehow, the two grew closer as the hour and a half flew by. She was sitting on a stool, facing him. Her knees were pressed against his and her gaze shifted to his face.

“Y’know, Barnes, you’ve got the prettiest eyes I’ve ever seen,” she says slowly, and if it wasn’t so dark she might be able to see the way his cheeks redden at the compliment.

“I- Thank you,” he replies softly.

Without warning, she hops off her stool and waltzes over to the couch, plopping herself down on the soft cushions and setting her nearly empty glass on the coffee table.

“Come here, Buck. I wanna play with your hair.” She makes grabby hands at him as if she were a toddler, waving her arms around as she does so. He laughs and takes a seat on the couch with her, setting his own glass, which also contains very little of the beverage, beside hers. She drapes her arms lazily over his shoulders, resting her forehead against his chest.

“I thought you said you wanted to play with my hair, doll.”

“I do, I just need a minute. That walk made me tired.” He chuckles.

“You mean the five feet from the stool to the couch?”

“Exactly. You really get me, Buck,” she mumbles as she runs her fingers through his hair. She has somehow moved so her body is awkwardly sprawled across his lap.

“Look at these pretty lips.” She runs her hand over his mouth messily, and he can’t help but laugh. “They’re so red! Did you steal my lipstick, Bucky?” she points a finger at him accusingly before reaching out and poking his lower lip.

“I didn’t steal your lipstick, doll, I promise.” He tilts his head down a bit to look into her eyes. She smiles at him—fully smiles, dimpled cheeks and all.

“What are you smiling about?,” he asks.

“It’s a secret.”

“Do you wanna share this secret?”

She tilts her head a bit in consideration and then nods. She knows that her sudden surge of confidence is from the alcohol, but decides to roll with it anyway. She could just blame it on the champagne tomorrow if things go poorly anyway. “But you can’t tell anyone.”

“I promise.”

“I have this uh, this little crush,” she says, playing with her fingers.

“Oh yeah, on who?” He hopes and prays that this is going in the direction he thinks it is.

She doesn’t answer, continues playing with her fingers, and he deflates a bit, having lost his confidence. After a moment she stills, then reaches up and boops his nose with her forefinger. Giggles. She giggles, and he doesn’t think he’s ever heard a more beautiful sound.

“Me?” he questions her. She nods.

“Of course! Bucky, Bucky,” she babbles, and he lets out a laugh once more.

“Doll, are you drunk?” He loves the way her eyes light up whenever he uses that pet name on her. It’s like a stunning display of fireworks going off, and it makes his heart race a million miles a minute.

“I most certainly am not, James,” she says with a little tug on a strand of his hair. “Tipsy at best.” He smiles.

“Then would it be okay if I kissed you?” Ah, Bucky Barnes, ever the gentleman. There’s that giggle again, setting his heart alight.

“It would be more than okay, Buck,” she says, leaning in and nuzzling his nose with her own. He smiles a broad, bright smile, so bright it could light the whole damn city, and he kisses her. It’s slow and lazy and sweet and more than he ever could’ve imagined. His hands move to cup her face, and when they pull apart breathlessly, he rests his forehead against hers, gazing fondly into her eyes.

“You taste like champagne,” she notes in a whisper.

“You taste like champagne,” he echoes her softly. “I didn’t know it could be so sweet.”

She reaches out and grabs their glasses off the coffee table, handing his to him.

“To us,” she toasts.

“To us.”

#hqwkeyes #marvel #marvel writing #fanfic #fanfiction #marvel drabble #marvel post #marvel fluff #marvel fanfiction #marvel fic #marvel drabbles #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader

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vegetacide · 5 years ago

Text

Whump prompt#4 - part III

Veg-notables - I noticed in some of my older stuff that I tend to write a lot of internal dialogue and thoughts so I decided to push myself to write more about the surroundings and such..for this part I actually looked up the picture of an old, wood mill and I attempted to draw a picture of it with words.. Not sure if I was successful but I think it was good practice.. Let me know what you think.

Thank you to @gumnut-logic for hashing out plot points with me.

Proofed by me..mistakes.. Blah blah blah .. be nice.

Likes, shares and comments are my motivational fuel and all that jazz

Rating: M for suggestions of torture.

Characters: Kayo, Scott and John is floating about

Prompt snippet - no title yet ‘cause I am still lazy and haven’t thought of one

Part I can be found HERE and Part II HERE

Enjoy….

oOo

Part III

Kayo approached the ramshackled grouping of buildings on silent feet. The red rust of the corrugated siding staining its rocky footing as if the dilapidated structure had met its end by exsanguination. Chunks of decaying metal sat like the curled husk of a dreadful creature across the marred vacant yard that was nestled between the forsaken mill and her bricked siblings. The bracket space between, a parody of some sick graveyard that lay ragged and open to the sky littered with the fossils of rotten wooden pallets and tipped over oil drums.

Pressing her back to an ash coloured brickwork of the stubbier of the two outbuildings, Kayo held her breath and listened. Her eyes ever moving over the landscape of disuse before her, scanning the skeletal remains for any sign of life. The gaping holes in the main structure absorbing the dying light of the summer sun and obscuring her gaze from seeing anything more than pitted cross beams and the ragged teeth the massive head rig.

Hearing nothing but the sound of wind through the four and a half story mill and the distant sound of the GDF patrol flyers that had been called in, Kayo allowed her lungs to once again expand. Alighting along the building’s perimeter she kept the scarred brickwork close to her back, her fingers dragging along its craggy surface as she continued her reconnaissance of the abandoned facility.

Coming to a wide opening, she halted her forward motion. Shuffling along to the very edge of it, she carefully peered around the broken framework of what was once a large, framed window. The mullions broken or missing in the absence of what would have been a rather hefty sheet of glass, the remains of which crunched under foot and glinted dully in the tapering light of day.

The dimly lit mottled interior was in utter ruin, particles of dust dancing about in the shafts of sunlight that filtered in from the ceiling, parts of which had caved in decades ago. Bits of old roofing tiles lay scattered across the moss covered floor along with support beams and metal fittings.

Across the large space of what she could only perceive was the main room, hung two heavy insulated doors. The once pristine polish of their surface now scuffed and tarnished. One sat open, its maw revealing nothing by darkness beyond. If she could guess this was a kiln house. A building that housed the large industrial ovens used to dry out and season newly milled wood.

Stepping out from behind the safety of her cover, Kayo gripped the edge of the decaying sill and made quick work hoisting herself in. The fact that the large machinery that made up the kiln hadn’t yet fallen through the floor, telling her that the structural integrity was most likely sound enough to support her weight.

Once within the confines of what was surprising a very large space, she tapped her comms twice, signalling to John that she was on site and triggered her camera. Recording everything she saw in case reference was needed later to correctly recall a poignant detail.

Stepping gingerly around the detritus of wood shavings, mouse escarpment and bird dropping Kayo began her search. The tracks she found at the further part of the mining camp some five clicks away had pointed her in this direction. They’d been hastily and haphazardly concealed and she’d picked up the trail easily after going another 30 feet or so into the underbrush. The snapped saplings and disturbed soil standing out is stark contrast to her well practiced eye.

After a quick call up to 5, John had provided her with an overview scan of the surrounding area and it hadn’t taken her long to stumble upon the old mill even though the likelihood of this actually leading anywhere was slim but she had to check. Only an idiot would use something so obvious as a…

A glint of something out of place brought Kayo up short and she stilled, eyes tracking back and forth along the floor boards. Something had caught the light as she’d been panning her vision around the space in her inspection.Tilting her head, she crouched as the change in angle caused something to catch the light again and her slender browns dipped downwards in concentration.

Four inches from the floor a fine, silver filament stretched across the expanse of a large archway at the head of a back hallway that appeared to run the length of the building. A tripwire. It was old tech but given the environment very practical and very skillfully applied.

Stretching her body out carefully alongside it, her eyes traced it length to it terminus, looking for any sort of trigger or devise hidden under the stacks of broken factory paraphernalia pushed off with little care at the base of the archways wooden support pillars.

Hidden just out of sight and strapped to what appeared to be a heavy old canister of some sort was a small, blinking red light. Definitely a trigger, though whether it was for a security system or an explosive she couldn’t tell and she couldn’t risk disturbing it to figure it out. Someone was definitely here if the trip was live..

Tapping her insignia, Kay opened an audio only channel to 5. As per protocol for Kayo, John would only be able to communicate with her verbally over the line, no visual holo-cast. He kept it short and professional, falling back on old CB radio codes on the small chance someone was piggy backing their secure line and eavesdropping. “10-2,” a short pause followed by “10-18?”

It was old school but it worked and kept chatter on the line to a minimal. With two short transmissions, John had verified that her channel was securely receiving her communication and had asked if she had anything to report. That last part she knew John would usually leave out as she wouldn’t have made contact otherwise so that meant that Scott was on the line too and chomping at the bit for anything he could get on his missing brother.

“Possible contact, have the GDF stand by”

“Message received. Alerting GDF to hold at perimeter.”

“10-4” Kayo heard a click over the comms as John change over to the GDF frequency but the quiet was short lived as he once again patched back over to her. Shaking her head as she lightly got back up to her feet and stepped over the tripwire, she should have known with the Defense Force so close they couldn’t sit still.

She had enough experience with Rigby to know there was good reason for the Colonel to call on her expertise for the more delicate operations. The man was good at his job in the guns blazing, hit them first sort of way that marked his and a lot of the other GDF personnel main character traits.

“GDF strongly advising use of backup before proceeding.”

“Negative.” Came her blunt, clipped reply. The GDF were not known for the ability to be stealthy and in this situation that was exactly what was needed. There was no telling what else she was going to find around here and the last thing she needed was their big boots stomping about the place tripping god knows what. Virgil’s life could very well be in the balance and that was a risk she just would not take.

The line went silent again after that and Kayo let out a breath. John would pass the information on and he wouldn’t bug her about it again. The GDF would be either mollified by that or not, she didn’t really care at the moment.

Scott on was another matter altogether though, she would prefer to handle this on her own but she knew that despite her hard no on the GDF joining that it wouldn’t forestall the commander of iR from racing over from where he was reconning. She just hoped she could clear the scene before he got there.

Pausing a moment to mark the hazard on the digital layout her wrist comm was compiling so Scott wouldn’t trip the thing when he inevitable got there, Kayo pulled a small pen light from her pocket and flashed it up the dark hallway. Light back here was poor with only a small 12 by 8 window every 10 feet or so making the long length a veritable minefield of hazards. A sprained ankle was the last thing she needed or worse if she happened to come across another surprise like the one she’d just found.

Picking her way cautiously down the hall, eyes alert and ears straining for any sound out of the ordinary she continued on.

Coming to a blind corner, Kayo glanced back up the hallway and assessed what she’d already seen and heard. With the skill needed to trick John with a false call, getting the upper hand on Virgil, left barely a trace and the set up with the trip wire, she knew that whoever was responsible was skilled, very skilled. She suspicions made her think that whoever it behind it was a pro

Hearing the tell tale sound of a jet pack, Kayo did her best to keep her internal mental tirade of courses just where they were and double tapped her comm.

“Sorry Kayo, Scott is en route.”

No shit, she thought to herself. “Be advised, area is not secure. Hold position until further notice.” If she could have, she would have added I will beat Scott’s ass if he doesn’t listen but she left it unvoiced. She hoped that her tone would be sufficient enough to pass that little ditty along.

“Understood, message has been relayed.” Guess it had.

Grumbling at the delay, she carried on until she came to a section of wall that looked like it had been removed with a sledge hammer, the jagged edges of which appeared fairly new and revealed a wooden stairway that descended into the earth.

Hugging the wall, Kayo took them with care, mindful to place her foot as close to the stringer as possible. Settling her feet on the first tread she gave a sigh of relief when the stairs didn’t just outright collapse under her weight. They looked study enough but looks could be deceiving.

Shifting back and forth she tested the next one down and so on and so forth until she reached the landing and the stairs made a 90 degree turn. Taking it as a sign when there was no creaking of loose boards or anything else that might result in her broken bones she alighted down the final flight with a bit more haste.

The tunnel that she found at the bottom was not what she expected. It was roughly constructed and lined with concrete, the ceiling being held in place by rough cut wood beams intersected by a newer spattering of electrical cords that ran off and disappeared behind a sealed door at the far end Pocked marked between the beams was an errant placement of naked light fixtures, the bulbs of which flickered and swayed.

It was damp and water had accumulated in several spots along the uneven rocky flooring. The dampness not only felt with a chill up her spine but smelt. It was earthy and metallic and clung to the inside of her sinuses.

Listening, she could hear the muted pitch of a motor. The faint scent of fuel and exhaust carried along with the wet soil that permeated the air had her picturing a generator, something easy to procure and set up. Her suspicions peaked again that this was anything but a random attack on her family. They were too well prepared for this to have been a spur of the moment, which meant organized and more proof that the perpetrator was not just some run of the mill kidnapper.

The click of her comm activating, had her cursing under her breath. Now was not the time. She quickly shut it off again. Scott could damn well stay upstairs and wait where she knew he would be safe. She couldn’t worry about him on top of all this.

Ducking into a shadowed alcove, Kayo parked behind a large crate, ears keenly tuned to pick up on any sounds that indicated her infiltration was a bust Back pressed to the tunnel wall she could just make out the first door. It was unlatched and moving slightly, caught up in a mild breeze that seemed to originate further down the tunnel.

The gap was just wide enough that Kayo could catch a glimpse of what lay beyond. There was a flickering light but by its random movements she guess a gas lamp of some sort was burning. Crates seemed to line a wall.. They appeared new and from the markings on the side possibly army surplus supplies. So who ever this one, they had been here a while.

Holding her breath as she waited a beat for some sort of reaction from the other side. A voice, a shifting of shoes, anything to forewarn her that she had been discovered. The small hairs on the back of her neck prickling with sensation as her adrenaline spiked a notch.

When nothing changed or came charging out, she plucked a small device from her the pouch at her waist and dropped it. Automatically a duel set of miniature rotors unfolded from it and it began to hover in the air. A little something that Brains had supplied her for just this situation.

The small device carried a micro camera and was easily controlled from her wrist comm. The magnetic rotors were virtually silent and their independent movement allowed the tiny bot the agility to move about basically anywhere that Kayo required.

There were some downsides to the tech, like heat sensitive and its range capabilities and battery life were limited due to its size but overall it was perfect for Kayo’s uses. It had a few other handy add-ons though that more than made of its for what it was lacking.

With a flick of her daft fingers, her wrist unit sparked to life and an image of herself from the little flyer sprang up on the screen. With easy, she maneuvered the craft out and around her hiding place. It hugged the ceiling, its onboard sensory preventing it from crashing into any obstructions and zipped easily over to the open door way. With a quick title on its axis, it breached the gap and entered the room beyond.

Automatically, data and floor blueprints popped up on Kayo’s display. Geological information followed, GPS locations and the general makeup of the room, ambient temperature. Everything that one could possibly need to know about a 10 x 12 space. It was as she had guessed, a storage room of some sort and from the tiny screen, she could make out an empty rustic seating area, remnants of food containers and even a small cooker. No bio reading or heat signatures indicative of a person though and a quick glance at the composition of the wall told her she would have to go room by room.

The little flyer made quick work of the tunnel and in a matter of minutes Kay had a good read of the layout of the place. Four rooms total, and no trace of any occupants. The place had been deserted and deserted in a rush by the looks of things.

Leaving the alcove, Kay stepped out into the middle of the tunnel and hit her comms. “Scott, you can stop your pacing. John, let the GDF know the place is a ghost town and that they can send in their team now.. Give em a heads up about the trip on the first floor and they should watch out for more.”

“Roger that”

Within seconds, the tall brunette leader of iR was striding down the stairs towards her. The scowl in place not impressed at being caged upstairs while she did her initial scans.

“Report?” His voice was blunt with barely contained anger.

“Nothing so far, but the place has been cleared out. No trace of any electronic signatures that could signal additional defenses but watch your step and stay behind me. If I had a choice you would be back at the island..”

“Tough shit.”

The made their way through each room. The storage room was first and proved Kayo’s theory that the facility had been set up for the long run. The next room was a bunkie with a couple of pallets for sleeping and little else. There was a generator room, that had makeshift ventilation system that vented exhausted into the mill above, it was heavily padded to reduce noise and the door was actually steel reinforced.

That left door number four. Pausing outside it, Kayo looked to Scott and laid a reassuring hand on his shoulder. The little flyer hadn’t picked up on anything living down here but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t find something else.

When his blue gaze met hers, he gave a single nod and Kayo put her shoulder into the door.

The room was dark and barren. The only light source the signal bar bulb at her back which swayed lightly, illuminating briefly first one side of the room and then the other as its light cast about in the breeze.

Like the rest of the tunnel system the flooring was dirt covered but the walls appeared damp with water run off from some unknown source. It was colder in this room compared to the others as well and the creepy feeling she’d experienced out in the alcove returned, sending shuddered up Kayo’s spine.

Pulling her penlight out once more she flashed it around the room. There was a metal chair to one side of the room and discarded lashings strewn about the floor at its base. Walking over to it, Kayo did a cursory scan of the floor and didn't like what she found.

“The chair is fastened to the ground.” She pointed out, crouching to examine the bolts holding it down. Picking up one of the lengths of rope she tried her best to push down the fear at the sight of blood that darkened the strong twine, her light once more sweeping over the room.

She could trust Scott to stay out of the way, he knew how she worked and he kept himself over by the door so she could do her job. “What’s that over there?” He nodded, squinting his eyes as he tried to make out what it was from across the room.

Glancing back over her shoulder, she pushed up to her feet aiming her light at what Scott had indicated. “Not sure..” Walking over to it, she bent down to take a look and stilled.

“Kayo?”

Proof. “They had him here.” Turning back to Scott as he finally stepped further into the room she held the torn remains of a soft, grey shirt, one she knew that Virgil had put on some sixteen hours earlier.

In the early hours of the morning she’d been lazing in a tangled mess of bed sheets, languid and completely sated. Happy for the first time in ...she had no idea how long and oh so relaxed. She’d raked her gaze over his fine physique and with a smile watched him pull the soft cotton down over his finger tousled hair before he’d turned and cupped her cheek for a good morning kiss that had once again led to other things..

Clenching her eyes shut she pushed the image from her mind. The shirt in her hand that smelt of his aftershave (the one she’d bought him last Christmas), the irony tang of blood and fear sweat, held tight as she tried to make sense of all of this and couldn’t.

Drawing in her breath, she gathered her bearing and returned to the task at hand. Peridot eyes swept around the earthen room that for lack of a better word it was what amounted to a cell. Archaic as it was, the place looked like something out of one of the many old war movies she had seen and it was hard to believe that in this day in age people still resorted to them.

Eyes narrowing as something caught her attention across the room behind Scott, she canted her head slightly trying to make out what it was. “Scott, behind you on the table.” She directed with a head nod towards the far corner.

Sitting on a small utility table amidst various discoloured rags and a roll of duct tape rested a folded note address to Scott and a holo-recorder. “What is it?”

“I’m not sure.” Picking up the note, Scott examined both sides of it. His name graced one side of it with thick block letters but other than that it was blank. Furrowing his brows he turned his attention to the recorder and powered it up, the small piece of tech casting odd shadows about the cell walls as it started to play some pre-recorded video.

Within seconds Scott’s face went from confusion to a look of abject terror that found Kayo instantly at his side having no idea she’d even made a conscious decision to move. The look in his eyes had her heart stuttering and relocating somewhere North of her chest.

“Scott…?”

Instantly everything else in the room suddenly dissolved, like someone had hit the dimmer switch on the rest of the world. Sound took on a tinny quality and faded into nothingness. Her panic breath and what she was looking at now the only things that seemed to registered in the vacuum.

There on the screen was an image of Virgil, bound to a chair and bereft of his uniform. He was blindfolded, the dark material obscuring part of his face but she knew it was him. She knew intimately that slumped form and the filthy cloth did little to mask the angry bruises and sluggishly oozing blood.

Off screen a modulated voice spoke and Kayo heard it as if it was distorted by some great distance. Movement in the back of the recording drew her eyes as a darkly dressed form came into frame behind the battered pilot. The camera at such an angle that the body of the person was cut off above the shoulders masking their identity.

Virgil’s limp head was yanked painfully back by his matted hair, putting his face in the camera lens as a glint of finely honed steel pressed into the soft skin at his throat. A small nick with the blade let forth a small trickle of blood but by the lack of response and the lax, bloody mouth it was obvious he was unconscious.

Biting back a growl at the mistreatment Kayo didn’t dare blink or look away as she prayed for Virgil to show some sign of life. Anything to set the world in motion again. The poor quality of the holo hampering the search but than the faintest of movements caught her eye and made her breath hitch and her heart gave a mighty kick in her chest.

There, under the ruddy skin along his stubbled jaw, straining awkwardly due to the thrust of his head was a laggy pulse of life at his jugular

“He’s alive.” She thought she heard herself say, not realizing as she began to shiver just how worried she’d been that she would have found something else down here.

The brother beside her cursed and sagged back against her. “Oh god…”

And just like that everything came into sharp focus again and sound returned. Along with it like the rush of a burst dam a surge of anger coursed through her and immediately she registered what the digitally obscured voice was saying.

The robotic cadence crackled through the little speaker of the recorder. “Tracy, meet my demands and your Brother will live. No security, no GDF..if not...” The voice trailed off as another unidentifiable figure came into frame and with a rough hand bared down on Virgil’s shoulder. The scream that the action ripped from Virgil’s split, bloody lips and his body’s shuttered contortion of pain had Kayo nails biting into her palm in anger.

The warped laugh that followed the torturous sound was sinister and laced with an edge of madness, “We’ll be in contact.” A chuckle and the screen went dark.

TBC

#thunderbirds fanfiction #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds 2015 #thunderbird two #Virgil Tracy #kayo kyrano #scott tracy #john tracy #virgil/kayo #gdf

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caranfindel · 6 years ago

Text

I heard there was a secret chord that David played, and it pleased the Lord (14.20 coda)

But you don’t really care for music, do you?

A coda for 14.20, "Moriah."

...

Amara's brother takes her on a tour of the uninhabited portions of his worlds, and she has to admit his creations are beautiful. Without the shabby chaos of humans, his fjords, mountains, and oceans serve as exquisite backdrops for the peace she loves. But after they watch the seasons turn a few times, he grows bored. "Let me show you my stories," he says. "Dean Winchester was your favorite character, right? I have so many Dean stories."

It would be more accurate to say he was the only character she was aware of, the only voice that stood out from the buzz of random noises her brother seemed to adore (even now, sometimes, she hears him). But she acquiesces. Her brother lifts his chin as though testing the air. "Oh, here's a good one."

They land in a motel room long past its prime, where a man with a familiar face slumps at a small table. A pistol and an empty whiskey bottle are laid out in front of him. "This Dean," her brother says. "He shot a pregnant woman in the head before she could give birth, because she was carrying a nephilim. His Sam walked right out the door. Never forgave him. And he's been drowning in guilt and doubt for over a year. See, he doesn't know if it was the right decision, and it's killing him."

“Was it the right decision?" she asks.

"I guess it depends on what you like. He prevented some things, but he caused others." He smiles. "Either way, it's good drama."

The Dean in front of her looks like her Dean, but she can't read him and doesn't feel connected to him. She watches him take a phone out of his pocket and make a call. The person he's calling doesn't answer, and he doesn't leave a message. He slumps further, his elbows on the table, his phone pressed to his forehead.

"He seems so sad," she says.

Her brother's smile widens. "I know, right? Like I said, it's good drama."

"But I thought you loved them."

"Oh, I do! Did you see the look on his face when Sam didn't answer his call? I mean, you could tell what he was thinking, right? That he was wondering if Sam was just away from his phone, or if he knew it was him and chose not to answer? That's why I love these guys. So much anger and pain, and yet, so much love. That's where all the drama comes from."

Perhaps Amara doesn't understand what love is after all. She watches this Dean put the phone on the table and pick up the pistol, pushing the barrel against the soft flesh under his chin. Her brother grips her arm. His face is alight with anticipation. When he notices her watching him, he motions toward Dean. "Watch him, not me," he hisses. "I think he might really do it this time."

Dean fires the gun and crumples onto the floor. Amara's brother squeezes her arm, hard.

"Wow. Wow! He actually did it! He's come so close, so many times, and I never thought he'd go through with it, but he actually offed himself." He leans over the bloody man on the floor. "Or. Well. Almost." Dean's eyes have rolled back in his head, and his breath comes in shallow, pained gasps. "I was afraid of that. He was too drunk. Messed with his aim, or his hand wasn't steady enough, or... anyway." He looks around the room, distracted. "I mean, we can stay, but this part could take a while, and it's kinda boring. The only unpredictable part is over. It could be fun to watch Sam find out, but I don't know when that's gonna happen, so maybe we just... bounce? I can find us another story."

The dying man's fingers twitch as if he's trying to hold onto something. Or someone. Amara's brother closes his eyes and tips his head back, searching for more drama to share with her.

No, she doesn't understand love at all.

"May I?" She motions to Dean. "Since he's dying anyway?"

"What? Oh, sure. Help yourself."

His soul goes down bitter, like blood and ash. But he's no longer in pain, and he's part of Amara now. He'll never be alone again.

Her brother takes her hand. "I found a story with some potential. There's a Dean who's trying to trick his Sam into a really bad decision. Want to go watch? It's fun to try to guess what will happen. They're so hard to predict sometimes."

"This unpredictability you enjoy," Amara says. "Trying to guess what might happen. Is there some way to experience it with less pain?"

"Oh, crap, I'm sorry," her brother says. "I guess you're not used to all the emotions, are you? I've been playing this for so long, I didn't even think about having a higher tolerance than you do. We should try something different. Maybe Vegas." But when they land there, the lights and sounds feel like an assault, and he quickly wings her somewhere else. "Reno will be good for now," he says. "We can work up to the bigger stuff."

Keno is sufficiently unpredictable. And completely emotionless.

Her brother joins her for a while, but soon becomes restless and starts searching for good stories again. He suggests a few, but she doesn't find them tempting, and he seems content to stay at her side. But eventually he comes to her, flush with excitement. "You'll like this one," he says. "It's your Dean, and his mother was killed by someone he loves, so he's got some awful decisions to make. Want to watch?"

"His mother?" She frowns. "But I gave him his mother!"

"Oooh, yeah. That. Sorry." He looks down, as if embarrassed, but she sees the traces of a smile playing about his lips. "That was an amazing plot twist, by the way. And then, stuff happened. It's turning into really good story, if you want to go see it unfold."

He holds out his hand, but she doesn't take it. "And I assume it will be painful for him?"

"Yes, most definitely. For all of them."

"I think I'll stay here," she says. "I enjoy keno."

His hand drops to his side. "Oh. Yeah, sure. That's probably a good choice. This one might turn out to be more than you want to see. I mean, it's gonna be awesome. Biblical, even. I love these two. But I guess it's more of a me thing than a you thing." Her brother kisses her on the cheek. "I'll be back soon. Promise."

Amara returns to her keno. When the screams begin, she looks around, frustrated. This is what she was trying to avoid - all of creation's messy emotions and disruptive noises. All of this unnecessary shouting and wailing and gnashing of teeth.

Then her brother appears at her side and takes her hand. "So... it's getting annoying around here. What do you say we visit some squirrels? I think you'd like that."

She feels her Dean for just a moment. Terror, fury, an almost bottomless well of grief. Her brother whisks her away, and it's gone.

And the squirrels are amusing, she must admit.

#spn #chuck shurley #amara #my fic #14.20 #tw: suicide #episode tag

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monitorsscrawlings · 5 years ago

Text

Jonathan’s Hair-Raising Halloween Adventure Ch. 1

Chapter One: Autumn Leaves & Eavesdroppers

October had scarcely just arrived, and yet the residents of the town of Blackwood were already all a flurry to prepare for the holiday season amidst a surfeit of pumpkins and crisp autumn leaves. The days were getting colder and the nights darker and longer, and all the usual seasonal excitement couldn't quite mask the restless, eager stirring of all manner of things dark, and dreadful, who were looking to join in on the fun in their own ways.

There were few places where this was quite as true as the handsome yet somewhat forbidding abode of the Sloan family. Such a charming family, such lovely neighbors. One would hardly suspect that the old house was brimming with magic, with mysteries and secrets. It was here that the families resident monsters were busy as could be; making plans and plotting mischief, subtly helping make the house and grounds properly readied and decorated in celebration of their favorite holiday, all while lavishing their beloved human child with attention and gleefully haunting, spooking and scaring the lad, as was their job.

And it is here that our story begins.

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

The humans had a saying that he was rather fond of: 'There's no rest for the wicked.' It might have sounded trite, but it was oh so true. Likewise, boogey-monster-kind had there own saying, one that ran along a similar vein: 'a monsters work is never done.'

As the monster under his humans bed, Grunk found both to be quite true, a fact that pleased him to no end, as he took the utmost delight in being dreadfully hauntingly wicked and utterly frightful indeed. Scaring and haunting the boy never got old; he simply loved his human and he loved his work, every bit of it Ah, but as wonderfully busy as little JonJon kept him through most of the year, even working and leading the other monsters to ensure a near constant, nightly ghoulish fright-fest for the boy managed to pale in comparison to the frantic, excited busyness that was each October, without fail. It was a very busy and very important month for boogey-monsters like him. Why, it was easily the single most beloved holiday in the Netherworld, and for monsters world-wide. No, there was no question that for every monster in residence that Halloween was their favorite time of year. Creepy-crawly creatures from basement to attic and everywhere in-between were as busy as they could possibly be, working hard to help ensure the household was ready for Halloween while plying their own ghoulish tricks and treats and ensuring their human was not left wanting for attention or scares.

Yes indeed, a monsters work was never done. And that was just fine by him.

With a growling huff the hulking hairy monster crawled out from his ususal place lurking in the darkness underneath his childs bed, glowing red eyes alight as he paused just long enough to shake a few lingering dust-bunnies and cobwebs from his fur with a self-amused snort, before reaching back under the bed to fetch an old, stained and beat-up leather accordion-folder thick with documents and files. Moving swiftly as there was work to be done, Grunk silently slipped across his childs room with scaresly a creak of floorboards or a rasp of his long snakey tail, all in spite of his impressive size and considerable bulk, to open the door to his childs room, twisting the knob with the long dark claws of one hairy mitt, before peeking his head out into the hallway, eyes wide and bat-wing like ears poised for any hint of the houses other humans.

Grunk spared a look down one hall and then up the other. After a moment, satisfied that everything was all clear he slithered and creeped from shadow to shadow, keeping well-hidden while remaining alert for any sign of the boy's siblings or his parents barreling down the hall. Or worse yet by far, his cunning and cold witch of a grandmother stalking about. In short order Grunk squeezed his way into the spiderweb bedecked room under the stairway that adjoined the first and second floors of the old house, just down the hall from their humans bedroom. At one point it might have served as a cupboard or perhaps even a shoe-closet, before his old chum Krolli had staked his claim and made it into his own dark and cozy, spider-infested haunt. Personally Grunk prefered to meet underneath the boy's bed whenever possible, but the spot under the stairs was fine too, he supposed.

Sure enough as he moved deeper into the other monsters lair, slinking around the carefully arranged stacks of comics mixed with the more modest collection of nature magazines, and the thick screens of webbing that clung to the corners and walls of the room or hung like long trailing drapes from the ceiling, he heard Krolli gallomping about excitedly in the very back, slurping and growling to himself before he spotted them. Grunk grinned to himself, carefully easing closer while trying to remain hidden until the very last second, intent on giving Krolli a bit of a fright. Just because they were all busy didn't mean he couldn't play a quick joke on his friend, and whatever project he'd settled on, the bearish, quadrupedal dog-snouted ankle-grabbing lout of a nightmare seemed too preoccupied and audibly excited to have noticed his entrance. Krolli's long, wormy chartuese and orange stripped tongue wormed about as he repeatedly slurped it in before sticking it out again to let it hang well past his chin, pacing in his excitment as he alternated between giving instructions to the massive swarm of spiders and bats arranged around the monster in a semi-circle that covered the back-wall, floor and hung from the ceiling-rafters of the room, and rubbing his hands together while chortling to himself, slitted glowing yellow eyes lively and bright.

"Don't think I don't know your lurking there Grunk. About time you showed up, I haven't seen snout or tail of you all day." Krolli cheerfully threw over his shoulder without missing a beat just as he was getting close enough to spring forward and grab them, pausing long enough in his pacing and shuffling to turn and give him a wide and toothsome smile, wormy tongue slithering out from between his jaws to waggle at Grunk tauntingly before he turned back to his work long enough to dismiss his assembled audience, telling them to take five while making a quick shooing motion and waving him over with large excited sweeps of his shaggy, bearish arms.

Grunk let out a growling chuckle at that, baring his teeth in a wide slathering grin of his own while keeping the clutch of files firmly tucked under one arm as he ambled closer. Idly brushing aside some of the cobwebs getting tangled in his horns with the claws of his free hand. "Darn it, caught me again! What's our score at, three times in the same week now? Now I know you're just showing off. How did you know it was me this time, anyways?" Grunk inquired teasingly, snaking his long serpentine tail out to give the other monster a quick squeezing hug.

Krolli produced a comically exaggerated, noxious wheezing noise like an accordion being stepped on, eyes bulging and tongue sticking straight out, before he cut the slapstick short with a self-amused little laugh, looking downright smug as he tapped his whiskery snout with one claw-tipped finger.

"The nose knows! Why, I can smell you coming from all the way down the hall and then some, if not even further than that, easy as snake-slug stew." Krolli said with a snap of his fingers, before hopping forward to enfold Grunk in a massive hug of his own, wriggling his snout and snuffling and snorting theatrically as he got a good wifff of the other monster, elliciting an amused snort from his friend.

"Ahhh, you're smelling absolutely beastly, as per ususal. The only one who's easier to sniff out is our little up and comer trainee Drool." Krolli said with a chortle, before his wormy-tongue snaked out, giving Grunk's face a friendly lickery-kiss, which his friend returned with a hearty slobbering off his own.

Grunk let out a pleased huff of his own, his tails spaded tip letting out a soft thud as it began to thump against the ground as they broke apart, Krolli settling down onto his haunches. "Naturally, naturally. But yes, he's certainly shaping up to becoming a fine closet-monster, isn't he?" He agreed with a pleased smile, before giving his head a light shake and getting back down to business, taking the accordion-folder and waving it just under his friends nose. "Oh, but before I forget I have some things I thought you'd like to see. Those scare-files you'll be needing for the next couple of months, along with some blue-prints and plans I think you'll want to have a gander at. I'm sure you'll like these."

Krolli, as excitable as ever, eagerly nodded his head, making grabby-hands at the under-bed monster as he bounced back to his feet, ears perking straight up as Grunk handed off the files with a flick of his wrist, before the monster under the stairs trotted over to the old folding-table set aside one wall, mostly clear save for an in and out document tray, a short stack of paperwork, and an old and well leafed through copy of Monsters Monthly, plans and diagrams pinned to the wall above it. Alas, even they couldn't escape the reports and trails of paperwork their jobs required.

"Excellent! Anything I should be on the look out for, or you want to wait until I've read through everything?" Krolli inquired cheerfully, leafing through the folder and beginning to set papers out before turning back to Grunk, eye-ridges arched.

Grunk waved one hairy mitt in a dismissive gesture. "Nothing too drastic, though we'll be trying to top all of our records from last year, and really pull out the stops for Halloween tricks. You will be seeing some new scare-victims this year, and there are a few humans that will need your special touch. Some of them have proven demanding or challenging scares so far though, so you'll want to go through everything carefully."

Krolli nodded along before letting out an evil chortle, wormy tongue snaking this way and that as he grinned wide, eyes blazing with excitement. Krolli did so love a challenge after all, it didn't take much to get him pumped up. "I can hardly wait, I'm sure this will be our best October season yet!"

Grunk let out a rumble of agreement. "As long as it doesn't interfere with what you're already planning, I have no doubt it will. What was that gathering about earlier, anyways?"

"Don't you want it to be a surprise?" Krolli teased, before breaking down into a fresh wave of snickering laughter at the sour, prune-mouthed look Grunk gave him in response.

"Alright, alright keep your horns on." Krolli finally relented with a grin after a moment, before he began slowly pacing back and forth as he explained, gesturing to the maps and diagrams pinned to the wall and letting out a grisly chuckle, looking particularly pleased with himself. "It's pretty simple really: I'll be having my bats ferry spiders and other creepy-crawlies about, maybe even some of the smallest monsters if they can manage the weight. Aside from speeding up the placement of spider-webs and a few other choice surprises, I'll also be working to drill them in bursting out of closets, cupboards, and trees or streaming in and out of windows on command, and flying overhead in mass to drop spiders and such on select targets, things like that."

Grunk let out a low approving growl, eyes alight as he considered the possibilities, grinning broadly all the while. "Why, that's absolutely heinous, I look forward to seeing you pull it off!"

"But of course, nothing to it." Krolli boasted, puffing up with pride.

Grunk could only smirk at that, giving his friend a sly look as he sidled up to them and playfully butted heads with them. "Oooh? Haven't been too busy then I take it? I'm surprised you aren't poring over your comics again or preparing to ambush the kid when he finally gets back from school." He teased with an amused snort, lightly thumping his tail against the floor once again.

"And miss out on all the fun?" Krolli gasped in mock-horror, before shaking his head vigorously in denial of the very thought. "No, no way no how. Comics can wait!" Krolli insisted firmly. "And as for Jonathan," he added while slurping his chops in anticipation and letting out an evil chortle, flashing Grunk a leering grin, "I'm more than ready to jump out and scare him, don't you worry about that!"

Grunk let out a low chuckle at that. "Just don't over do it this time, we don't want him bouncing around in the middle of the night. Going bump at all hours is supposed to be our job after all." He huffed with a good-natured eye-roll, while Krolli pretended to be suitably chastised for all of five seconds.

Things would have no doubt dissolved into the usual friendly banter interspersed with a little light rough-housing before the two monsters parted ways and returned to their tasks, if something hadn't happened to grab their attention just then, the familiar sounds of humans on the prowl, and close by. Both monsters shifted into high alert, ears pricked and eyes wide, Grunk slinking back to the front of the room to crack the door open and peer out into the hallway, Krolli right at his side.

After a moment of listening intently, Krolli slouched forward, the disappointment written plainly on his face mirroring Grunks own as they both realized at nearly the exact same time that it wasn't the boy after all, just his parents, stomping around in the dining room talking as they were want to do.

Grunk would have recognized those voices anywhere, as he'd certainly listened to them read the boy bed-time stories and tucking him in for the night often enough.

Krolli let out a grunt if disappointment deep in his throat as he came to the same realization. "Tsk, false alarm I guess, just his parents. And here I was hoping maybe they'd let the kid out of school early."

"No such luck. A real shame that," Grunk agreed easily, before nodding towards the hall, "ahhh, but shhh, I want to hear what they're saying. Sounds like somethings got them both a bit riled up doesn't it?"

The pair of monsters exchanged a look before pressing their heads to the door-crack and listening in. After all there was a chance, no matter how slim, that this might actually be important, if not interesting.

"—can't you take him this year?" Said Mrs. Sloan, the boys mother.

"Me? Honey come on. I took the kids out last year, remember? Shouldn't it be your turn this year?" Mr. Sloan argued in a wheedling voice, sounding distinctly put-upon and tired, both their voices coming distantly from somewhere down the hall.

"Because you're his father and he should get to enjoy this while he can. He's not going to be a little boy forever! Besides, you know how excited he gets about Halloween." Mrs. Sloan said, before there was a sigh and the creak and groan of one of the old couches in the main parlor as one or the other sat down heavily.

Both monsters could hear the smile in Mr. Sloans voice when he finally replied after a moment. "It has been all he's been talking about for the last week, when he's not jabbering about school. I swear he's obsessed." Followed by another sigh and the familair sound of someone sitting down, couch and floorboards both shifting with a creak and groan.

Mr. Sloans voice piped up after a beat, sounding faintly strangled. "Wait! What about Mich and Abbie? Aren't they going trick-or-treating too this year?"

"Neither of them seemed very interested in going when I brought it up earlier. I think Micheal's planning to go to the autumn festival, and Abby's probably going to the schools Halloween party or out with her friends."

"Oh, good. So then...that means the only one we have to go costume-shopping for is Jonathan then? That'll make things a little easier at least." Mr. Sloan grumbled.

"Mmm, yes, but ones going to be more than enough I think. We'll have to take him costume shopping soon if we want to beat the rush."

"Yeah. Wait...what about you?" Mr. Sloan said after a pause.

"What about me?" Mrs. Sloan fired back with an arch little laugh. "Someone has to stay here to pass out candy and make sure the kids don't stay out too late. Besides, do you want to help clean up the mess the kids will leave for us if they don't get their candy?"

"Oooh. Right, right. Wait, what about your mother?"

There was a sharp derisive laugh from the boys mother, before she finally answered with a loud scoff. "Madeliene? Please tell me you're joking dear. You know how she gets, and frankly she isn't big on children a the best of times. It would be a disaster even if I could talk her into doing this for us."

"I still don't see why you can't take him for trick-or-treating while I stay here and hand out the candy."

"It will be just for one night. Besides you know he's going to want to go with you. Just like last year."

"And the year before that, yeah yeah. Fine, fine, I can see I'm not getting out of this one huh? Just glad we only need to deal with this once a year." Mr. Sloan sighed, accepting defeat with ill-grace.

"And the candy and decorations?"

"I'll pick up what we'll need next time we go shopping, and I'm sure we can get the kids to pitch in, so we'll have the place set-up and ready in no time." Mrs. Sloan said soothinly.

"I'm sorry sweety. I know how busy you are this time of year, and how important it is to the kids, but god it's such a headache."

"Yeah yeah, cheer up, I'm sure it won't be as bad as last year."

Both monsters found themselves making faces when the couple began smooching loudly, before their conversation began to move on to other no doubt reviting topics. Grunk simply shook his head, turning away with a sneer, while Krolli's inital reaction was more subdued, though the dismay and disappointment was plain on his features. Grunk quietly closed the door behind them with a nudge of his tail, before letting out a growling snort, starting to fume as he slouched into a sulk with a dreadful frown that would have surely curdled milk. To treat Halloween and the prospect of taking the boy out trick-or-treating as nothing so much as just another chore?

Such a deplorable lack of holiday spirit, and from the boys parents to boot? It...it was baffling, disgraceful! Feh, why couldn't it have been them who took little JonJon trick-or-treating? Surely no one could do Halloween and all the tickery and spookery it entailed better than the boys very own monsters?

Grunk straightend up with a grin, feeling as if a lightbulb had gone off inside his head as realization struck, eyes alight with excitment as his tail began sweeping slowly back and forth across the floor.

That was it!

Grunk chortled to himself as the idea took hold. Since Jonathan's parents were oh so clearly lacking in the true spirit of Halloween it fell upon him--and the rest of the boys monsters too--to pick up the slack and make sure this would be the lads finest Halloween yet. Finally, this year it was their turn to spend some quality time with their human! Grunk looked to Krolli and Krolli looked to Grunk. Judging from the glint in his eyes and the way Krolli was almost absent-mindedly rubbing his hands together while grinning widely, they were of the same mind.

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" Krolli hissed eagerly, slouching forward.

"That this year we take our human out for a Halloween spree?" Grunk inquired, giving a slow affirmative nod as he bared his teeth in too-wide grin that was the rival of theirs as he began to salivate a think trickle of green ooze.

"Exactly so! I mean, why should the boys parents have all the fun, eh?" Krolli cheered, cackling softly to himself as he performed a hopping little jib with all four of his scaly purple taloned feet, his wormy tongue snaking this way and that.

"Well what are we doing just goofing around here for? Let's get to it." Grunk said after a minute of watching Krolli with tolerant amusement. With that the two of them got back down to business, hauching close together in the gloom under the stiars, heads scarcely a hand-spans apart as they quietly conferred between themselves. They both agreed they would need to adjust all of their plans accordingly now that they were planning to run amok with their human this year. But ah, but how very worth it it would be if they could pull this off!

Once their course was decided, the two split up to spread the word and gather everyone together for an emergency meeting, wasting no time as they slipped out from under the stairs, skulking and creeping through the house as they kept to the shadows, sliding under furniture and hiding behind doors so as not to be spotted out in the open, passing unseen and unnoticed by the houses scant human residence.

Krolli started from the basement, working his way into the kitchen and through the lower levels, while Grunk took the attic and worked his way through his way down from there, the two meeting in Jonathan's room to close the gap and make sure every single creepy-crawly creature, monster, and spook in residence got the memo.

If Jonathan's family noticed anything amiss, or heard any strange or unsettling noises echoing through the halls or emanating from the shadows they promptly dismissed it. Any creaks, any sudden drafts, funny odors or uncanny feelings could be blamed on the old house, which was known to make funny noises and odd groans at all hours.

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Authors Notes: I’ve come a long way as a writer since I started this chapter, and I think it’s going to show in subsequent chapters for this story since there’s such a severe time-gap going on here. These are all still rough-drafts I’m afraid, and this chapter more than any other is slatted for a full rewrite once I’ve rough-drafted the full story. Still, thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it, and feel free to drop some C&C in the comments section or in my inbox if you’re feeling up to it, thank you~!

#Jonathan's Hair-Raising Halloween Adventure #JHRHA Ch. 1 #Kooks & Spooks #Otherverse Series #Grunk Von Hurst #Krolli Modber

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bubblesthemonsterartist · 6 years ago

Note

Obi as a martial arts instructor/assistant instructor, and Shirayuki as the student who keeps needing help with her floor maneuvers >:3c

Prompts are currently closed. I will announce when I am open! :)

Apropos to nothing, Obi saunters to the middle of their little circle, lifts up a single leg and falls like a particularly tall tree. His flat palms slapping flat against the mat is ear splitting.

“Okay!” Obi grins like he hadn’t just rattled her teeth just by watching him, and rubs his hands together gleefully. “Can I havea volunteer? Ulkir, do you care to be today’s sacrifice?”

Kai flushes, turning his face into his sleeve. “I went last time,” he mumbles, looking towards his partner with a plea in his eyes. Shiira clears his throat and looks away.

“Come now,” Obi purrs, flat on his back with a smile made of sharp white teeth. “It wasn’t that bad.”

Shy brown eyes sharpen into a glare. “Easy for you to say.”

“It was a learning experience!” he insists. “You’re only going to get better if-”

“Sensei,” Ryuu’s cuts the both of them off. His voice is soft, but there is censure there strong enough to make Obi freeze mid-sentence. “It’s not fair to have Kai go again. There’s a new person.”

Those sharp yellow eyes flicker to her, then quickly away, his grin growing stilted. “Miss is just observing today,” he explains, voice gentling. “She can go next time.”

“She’s wearing a gi,” Ryuu argues, frown deepening. “New people go first.” And he says it so matter of factly, so blatantly, as if- as if these rules were known to all but her.

Obi and Kiki exchange a glance, a flicker of worry passing between them, and Kiki shifts forward, reaching out to touch Ryuu’s shoulder-

“I’ll go.”

It’s like the room seizes at all once. Or maybe it’s just her. Shirayuki’s fingers fist at her knees, face flushed, and- and she doesn’t even want to be doing this. Doesn’t want to be here. She’s only here because Mitsuhide insisted it would help. But if Obi thinks she will just accept him babying her like this, he’s got another thing coming.

Jaw dropping in- surprise? Shock? Concern?, Obi waves his hands ather in denial. “Now, now, Miss…”

“Ryuu says it’s my turn,” she points out, tipping forward onto her hands and knees and crawling into the center of thecircle. “Now what do I do?”

Huffing, Obi looks at Kiki again, and Shirayuki distinctly sees his lips move, mouth forming what looks to be trouble.

“I didn’t quite hear that, Sensei,” Shirayuki says, so sweetly, sitting back on her heels. “Care to repeat it?”

Obi eyes her. Then sighs, scrubbing his face as he flops back onto his back once again. “I said, ‘Fine, Miss,’” he clips, knees drawing up. Extending his hand in a welcoming gesture, Obi gives her his broadest smile. “Well, then, come on. Wouldn’t want to give you anything less than the full experience.”

Tilting her head in confusion, she wonders just how closer he needs her to be. Shifting forward until her knees brush his side, she asks, “Here?”

A small wave of quiet laughter tinkles like bells across the room, and her cheeks heat, just a little. She was just doing what he said. But even Obi’s lips are trembling with what - she hopes - is humor.

“He meansget on,” Kiki says, not unkindly, but even those placid indigo eyes seem to be teasing her. “It’s called ‘mount’ position for a reason.”

“Oh. Oh!” Heat floods her face so sharply it scalds. “Oh, I mean- I guess, um- how doI-“

Obi’s eyes slide off and behind her. “Shiira,could you…?”

“I can do it!” Shirayuki yelps, bracing her palms across Obi’s chest and throwing her leg over hiswaist. He’s broader than he looks at first glance, and the sudden shock of a very solid man against the inside of her thighs has her stuttering for words. “I mean- um- here? Here is okay?”

Obi mouth opens and closes twice before he manages to make his voice work. “Yes, Miss,” he replies, and she’s- she’s proud. Proud that she could shock his voice hoarse like that. Proud that she was able to prove that she didn’t need coddling, no matter the reason that brought her in here in the first place. “Although you should get your weight off your knees. It would be easy for me tothrow you off like this.”

“Oh,” Shirayuki replies, and her face burns at a steady boil, but she sits back, settling herself down until she’sseated on his stomach. “Then like this?”

He huffs a laugh. “Drop your weight. I won’t break.”

She looks over her shoulder at the rest of him. “But I don’t want to crush you!” she protests.

This time, Obi laughs outright. “Trust me, you won’t.”

“But-”

He taps her thigh twice in quick succession, jolting her upright. “Settle, Miss. If Mitsuhide’s weight can’t crush me, the whole 90 pounds of you definitely won’t.”

Shirayuki mouth flattens into a thin line, but slowly. Carefully. With one eye on him. She relaxes her muscles until her weight settles downfully.

“Good,” Obi grins when she’s done, voice dropped low, and it’s so soft - so nice - that she almost forgets that she is supposed to be annoyed with him. She even preens almost, having completed such a simple task. Then, all at once, she’s reminded of their audience when his chest vibrates beneath her palms, voice booming, “Alright! So!What we’re going to do first is a simple choke hold-”

~ ~ ~

For all the awkwardness of the first few moments, Obi’s teaching style issurprisingly economical. He demonstrates a hold, guides her step by step on how to copyit, then how to break it, and sends the rest of the class to pair up and copy. Rinse and repeat for about ten minutes.

It’s on their third hold that he states the obvious.

“You’re no good at this, Miss,” he grins from above, her arms pinned to her chest, and she glowers athim. “My weight is off. You could throw me if you wanted to.”

He’s not wrong. Not precisely. With his weight all on one arm, she might be able to shove him off of her and gain the higher ground, but instinct is hard to break and she does exactly what he has hold her not to do. She squirms, attempting to wrench her arms out from beneath his open palm. He only pushes down harder, the bone of her wrist digging further into her sternum until she gasps at the shock of pain.

“How am I supposed to get out of this when you’re bigger than me?” she wheezes, going completely still. The pressure lets up, just a little. “I’m small!”

“So is Miss Kiki,” he counters, jerking his head to the side.

Shirayuki follows the motion, and Kiki is not ten feet away, currently wrapped up with a man who has a whole six inches and 50 pounds on her. His arm wraps around her neck, bringing her down and beneath him. Shirayuki almost reaches out, almost calls for her, but with the casual grace of a house cat mid-fall, Kiki twists, flipping him off of her and onto his back with enough force that he’s knocked breathless. In the next moment, her torso is swinging off of his, thighs and shins laying across his crest with his arm cradled between her thighs. It only takes two seconds of her levering the arm back, pressing the power of her hips against the delicate joint of his elbow, and he’s yelling, free hand tapping frantically against the mat.

“See?” Obi drawls.

“Kiki is really strong,” she argues. “And a black belt.”

“Miss.”

His voice rakes across her, equal parts disappointed and scolding, and her frown deepens. “I can’t even move my arms,” she points out, tugging at them to emphasize her point.

“It’s all about proper application of force,” he replies.“You could overpower me. If you wanted to.”

Shirayuki stares at him, eyes wide, and her- her heart flops uncomfortably in her chest. “How?” she asks. “I’ve never been able to-”

“Because you didn’t have the right tools. That’s why you’re here, right?” he asks, thumb pressing against her wrist as he pulls back and it’s- very nice to breathe again. She revels in it for so long that she almost misses the next sentence. “The trick isa proper hold.”

Shirayuki swallows. Hard. Her eyes fastened to the way hisfingers wrap around her, the gap in his gi and the peek of a scar spanning his chest, as he leads her to his collar. “Oh?”

“You’re right. You’re tiny. But that’s what can make you an excellent fighter,” he says, dry skin sliding up to open herpalm, then to close down around the thick material. “But first, you need every bit ofleverage you can get. Now. Tighter.”

The average square inch of human skin has over 1000 nerveendings, and right here, right now, she feels as if all of them are alight.“Like this?” she manages, gripping until her knuckles are as white as his clothes.

“Yea,” he hums, and the vibration of his chest against herknuckles feels… nice. “Just like that.”

Shifting slightly beneath him, her knees draw up on either side of his hips. “And then?”

“I think you know.” His lips cant up in a smirk. “Do what you saw Miss Kiki do.”

She’s not entirely certain what Kiki did, but she- she tries, sharply shifting her weight so she rests on her hip and not her back. The movement makes her tug, makes her pull Obi’s gi with her, and then it’s nothing to just- press with her shins against his waist and the weight Obi had resting on a single knee goes toppling right over.

It’s just physics, but it feels like magic when the room stops spinning and she’s back on top of him, staring down at his pleased grin.

“Not too bad for a half pint,” he drawls with a wink. “Now. Time to finish me off.”

#bubbleswrites #akagami no shirayukihime #snow white with the red hair #obiyuki #martial arts au #sabraeal #TAG YOU'RE IT #THE BALL IS ONCE AGAIN IN YOUR COURT

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snacc-noir · 6 years ago

Text

Kim Week, Day 6: Swimming

Day 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7

Summary: Kim teaches Markov to swim. Again.

“Where exactly are we going?”

Kim shot a side-long smirk at the high-teched robot flying behind him, furthering the adjustment of the blue towel slung over his shoulder. “It’s a surprise, Markov,” he said with little repression of his excitement. “But we’re gonna have heaps of fun.”

“Max didn’t program me with the ability to predict surprises.”

Kim pushed on the swinging entryway door to let himself and Markov slip through the threshold. “That’s because you’re not supposed to predict surprises.”

He looked thoughtful. “Max said to be careful of your surprises.”

Kim tossed the swimming bag in his grasp under a nearby bench and sighed. Max had told him to do a fun activity with his robot while he went to his Math competition thing, and yet warned Markov to be careful of his always fun surprises? Rude.

He commenced into his stretching-routine without facing him and murmured, “He was probably talking about Alix.”

Markov’s digital eyes pixilated into question marks as he hovered beside Kim. “But there’s a zero-percent chance of that? I can remember and record every conversation my microphone picks up. Would you like me to play Max saying to be cautious of what your surprises actually involve?”

He froze stretching his arms and held back a groan.

The robot had been away from his creator ten minutes and already he wouldn’t stop talking about him.

“No, it’s fine,” he assured though his teeth. “But you don’t have to take everything that Max says seriously.”

“Max is my best friend. He set my rules and fills me with knowledge I cannot gain myself.”

“Max isn’t here now,” Kim leered as he whipped off his hoodie and stretched his cap on. “Don’t worry about anything he’s said about me. You finally get to have some fun with your favourite uncle Kim!”

Markov observed him with scepticism as he slid into the empty community pool beside their standing point. “Are we going to time your laps?”

“Nope. Today isn’t even one of my swimming days, that’s why Ondine isn’t here.” He folded his arms atop the gravel pool edge and peered up at Markov. “I’m going to teach you how to swim.”

He stared. “Swim?”

“Yep! Don’t worry though, you don’t have to get in the water. It’s always nerve-racking the first time, so you can watch me from the edge.”

Markov stayed silent as he hovered above a bench. Kim began to tread water and outstretched his arms over his head.

“This one’s called freestyle. It’s not actually a free style, because you have to do it in a particular way. You kick your feet with ballerina toes while your stroke looks like this.” His uplifted arms moved in un-sync windmill motions.

The robot still looked confused. “The only stroke I’ve ever heard of is the one related to brain failure.” He made a gasping noise. “Your brain isn’t failing, is it Kim?! Alix can’t be right!” he bellowed indignantly. “Marinette said she was joking! You’re not dying, are you?! Oh no, Max would be so angry with me if I let you die while you’re babysitting me!”

Kim’s arms deflated to melt in the water. “Uh—no, I’m not… dying?” He shook his head. “That’s a different type of stroke. This type of stroke is one that swimmers do. There’s a few I can teach you. Like breaststroke.”

“Is that the ‘frog’ one you mentioned while Paris was flooded?”

“Yes!” He overlay his arms across the water and pushed them outwards, formulating ripples. “This is what your arms do, except out in front of your head while you’re swimming since you’re face-down in the water. Your legs move like a frog.”

“I have very interesting facts about frogs in my memory-drive,” Markov spoke with gestures of his mechanical hand. “Nathaniel showed me one in real life. I thought it was very fascinating, and then Alix placed it on me. I had such a fright one of my wires short-circuited.”

Kim blinked at him, before waving it off. “Well, I told you I was better than Alix. You’re lucky you weren’t stuck with her for today.”

As he morphed into a different position to begin backstroke, Markov halted his swimming when exclaiming, “Actually, Max intended to hand me to her for today.”

Kim arched himself upright and creased his brows. “What do you mean?”

“Alix was too busy helping her dad with something to take care of me today, so Max called you. He was hesitant because of the last ice cream incident.”

He couldn’t hide his frown. “Max trusted Alix more than me?”

“Well Marinette was another option but—”

Ping.

Markov flew to the bag beneath the bench he was hovering over. “That sounded like your phone.”

“Can you check it please?”

He used his claw-like hand to unzip the swimming bag and rummaged for the requested object. He raised it out and read the alighted screen. “Max is wondering how we are doing.”

Kim swum to the pool’s edge. “Um… say we’re going good, but don’t give him the idea of where we are.”

Markov beamed and nodded. “Got it.”

A thin, metallic pointer opened from his chest so he could type the answer on the phone. After a few taps were made, Markov secured the phone back in the swimming bag and returned his hovered position over the bench.

“Are you ready for the next demonstration?” Kim locked his hands upon the edge’s grip and hoisted himself out of the pool. “Because this is the funnest one.”

“Do you mean the most fun?”

Kim stood and flicked a few droplets away. “Sure.”

“If you are showing me a swimming technique, then why are you not in the water?”

His lips curved into his famed grin. “Because I’m about to be.” He took a few steps away from Markov, and swivelled to face the pool. His heals dug into the gravel while his toes fell over the edge.

Markov watched Kim squat before raising his arms into a pencil pose and leaping in.

A gush of water soared at the contact to make a circular wave around where Kim had jumped. It looked incredible, the robot decided.

“That’s—” Kim gasped as his head emerged from the water, “—what a dive is. It’s my favourite thing to do in swimming. I could teach you how to do it, too.”

Markov was buzzing with excitement. He had never seen such fun involved with the water before, and he found himself willing to perform the same trick that Kim did instantly.

“Yes! I would love that.”

Kim smiled and raised himself out of the pool again.

“Okay, so first of all you’re going to come to the edge and—”

“KIM!”

Through the swirl of surprise Kim almost tipped himself backwards into the pool if he hadn’t caught himself at the last second.

With blown eyes he flashed to the sound and was undoubtedly even more stunned to see Max standing at the entryway looking a way Kim had never seen him.

Very, very angry.

“Are you trying to kill Markov?!”

Kim contemplated that maybe ‘accidently’ falling into the pool wasn’t such a bad idea after all as his friend surged towards him.

“Wh—How?!” Kim stared at him in the ridiculousness scenario, trying to comprehend if it was real or not. “Why are you here?!”

Instantaneously—as though he had been anticipating the question—Max held up his phone displaying a series of text messages.

“‘We’re going good’,” Max read off the screen. “‘One-hundred-percent not at the pool learning to swim. Don’t get the idea, please. Lots of love, Kim’.”

A wave of realisation washed over him.

Kim looked at Markov accusingly.

“I said don’t make it sound like we’re at the pool!”

The robot’s eyes pixelated into exclamation marks. “I told Max that we weren’t here! Just like you said.”

Kim sighed and brought his hand up to his face.

Max was shooting daggers at the swimming-truck clad teen as his fisted hands pressed his hips. “You’re lucky they postponed the competition for an hour, or I wouldn’t have been able to come.” He shoved his phone in his pocket and stomped further up to Kim. “You do realise if Markov went in the water that he would malfunction and electrocute you?!”

Kim tipped his head back and groaned as if he were a child scolded by a parent. “I wasn’t going to let him get in the water,” he whined. “Just above it. To follow my lead.”

Max stared at him doubtfully.

“I was just about to teach him how to dive! —In the air of course. We were having so much fun!” Kim tossed a smile to Markov and patted his head. “He loves his uncle Kim.”

Max sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose to fend off a headache.

“I think Alix will be receiving full-custody of babysitting duties after this.”

#le chien kim #we are miraculous #kim appreciation week #miraculous ladybug #markov #max kante

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