#I don’t like it when someone gets special treatment Al the time and I just get told to kill myself in a friendly way!! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

meili-sheep · 2 years ago

Note

You knew this was coming at some point. The harem with Duke and Lady? Perhaps the pet’s ratings of the harem as well? If you don’t mind?

OK so lets start off by saying The pet's Rating of Diluc.

Like Duke, Diluc is a 10/10. Best friend for life. Never will be topped perfect score. Lady is 9.9/10 still great. A good friend but not Diluc and that's the key.

To Lady, on the other hand he's like a 9.5/10. Definitely great and near perfection but the only one who is perfect is Lady herself. Oh and Duke's rating is like 5. Some days he's a 6. Others he's a 4. but that's siblings for you.

Albedo

So Albedo isn't really a pet guy and had to be told a few times not to run experiments on Diluc's pets. And this has rather tanked his ranking with both pets. Duke a little more forgives tho, and after the treatment was corrected, they started to get along great. So with Duke he's at like a 6.3, and it's getting higher because Albedo keeps making him special treats. They are honestly just biscuits to help common issues in basset hounds.

Lady, though is still very, very suspicious and tends to avoid Albedo if she can. And of the pair, she's the only one who's a little more suspicious of people approaching Diluc to start. She's not really fond of people getting too Diluc. But just like Duke Albedo does bring her special treats, so 3.

Al Haitham

So out of all of the harem, Al Haitham is the most indifferent towards the pets. Which, funny enough, makes him Lady's favorite. It also helps that he'll sit down and read. And Lady will jump in his lap, and he has no issues sitting there and petting her until she's bored. So a very solid 5. Don't expect a rating higher than that from her.

Now Duke. He loves how Al Haitham smells. I think he in generally like the leafy smell that comes from people who use Dendro. Al Haitham, however not a fan of Duke's slobber. He's pretty understanding, though, and gets that... In some ways, these pets provide Diluc with something he can't, so you know. It's fine. he probably actually likes taking Duke for runs and walks, though. Which automatically puts him at a 7.

Ayato

Ok so Ayato adores Duke. He loves his soft fur his floppy ears and his sad looking face. And he will actively be involved in Duke's care. He just likes dogs that much. I think he also likes knowing Diluc has someone so Loyal following him around. It's a little reassuring. So for that Ayato is probably Duke's favorite at a 9.

Lady, however. She will just stare at Ayato from afar. Often playing this, his sleeves are enough to tear before hurrying off. They do not care for each other. But it does make Ayato reconsider his opinion on cats when he sees Lady with Diluc. As she is happy, calmer, and happier. And often, she lets Ayato know when Diluc is hurt by purring abnormally loudly against Diluc. Lady still doesn't think great of Ayato, though, and thinks of him mostly as a toy. So 1. His sleeves even aren't that fun to tear.

Childe

So. I'll be honest. Childe is very, VERY jealous of how much attention the pets get. Like, HE UNDERSTANDS why the pets get so much attention. Because they are lives, Diluc is responsible for, BUT THEY ARE ANIMALS. WHY DO THEY GET SO MUCH ATTENTION. They don't even get that much attention. It's just that Diluc's attention isn't 100% on Childe.

But Duke? Duke totally loves Childe. Like really best buddy and friend. Childe ends up warming up to Duke once he learns that not that Duke's breed are hunting dogs. But Diluc actually trained Duke to hunt. Diluc took them out once, and Childe was amazed. And started taking Duke out all the time, so 8.9, almost a 9.

Lady, however. Is very indifferent to Childe. And honestly likes actively taking attention from Childe. But against Lady is ultimately a predator and Childe respects that. So it works out 2.

Eula

So I've mentioned before some Eula and Duke headcanons before because, again, Duke would love Eula. Because she would always secretly pet him and give him treats when no one is looking. He would absolutely be that dog in the romantic movies who like ties up his owner with the pretty lady by running around them while on his leash. 8.5

Now Lady tolerates Eula. Diluc is happy when Eula is around, and so the dog and Lady is happy when the others are happy. So 3.7, still not a fan of when someone takes Diluc's attention away from her.

Itto

So the big guy loves both of Diluc's pets and enjoys Itto's company in return. Well, Duke does. Itto tends to be waaaay too much for Lady, and has a bad habit of following her and chasing her. Which Diluc quickly corrects when he notices that she's stressed. 2. He's only above Ayato because He does try to be more gentle.

Duke, though, loves the attention. He loves that Itto takes him out to sniff out Onikabuto for him. Just Itto is a high-energy guy, and Duke's got the endurance to steadily keep up. Plus it's nice he gets to come back and take and nice cuddly nap with Diluc. 7.8.

Kaveh

Honestly, between he and Thoma are the most liked by the pets in general. As in. Both Lady and Duke like him. Especially after he builds Duke a custom dog house and Lady a special scratching post. Honestly, Diluc probably has a room for each pet, and Kaveh goes ham designing things for the rooms. So that's a big old 7.5 from Duke. Could use more cuddles and treats. And a very high 4.9 from Lady. She'd like him more if he settled down and petted her. Maybe some more fish.

Thoma

Like Kaveh both pets really love when Thoma comes to visit. And while Kaveh makes buildings for the pets. Thoma knits sweaters. Duke is... Less of a fan of this. Lady though. Really likes it because Thoma normally grooms them both when he dresses them and Loves a good brushing. So again, 4.9 from Lady. Duke, though, while not a fan of the sweaters, still loves the pets, belly rubs, and general care 8.4.

Xiao

So Xiao doesn't understand pets super well. He doesn't quite get the companion nature of animals. So he originally thinks Diluc got the pets as like protection, and then he meets Duke and is just like

"This think protects?? It looks so... Floppy and sad."

Duke, honestly, probably is a little uncomfortable around Xiao to start. As I think the Karmic debt probably doesn't have a good smell. But other times, Xiao smells really good. Duke is a little confused by this but probably starts alerting Diluc when Xiao is hurting. Which earns him lots of hugs and pets. And a bit of respect from Xiao 7.

Lady is the one Xiao respects more from the start. Because she defiantly has a look of. "Bother Diluc, and I'll cut you," Which he approves of. So They end up getting along decently well. And You know how purring helps heal wounds? Well, it also helps ease the pain of karmic debt. 4.

Zhongli

So Zhongli is a hold man who will happily sit out with a good book and tea while petting a cat in his lap and a puppy sleeps at his feet. it's very content. He's pretty active in taking care of Diluc's pets with him so both generally enjoy his company.

Lady being a cat, still isn't super fond of the lizard-smelling guy and plays a little aggressively with him. 3

Duke wishes that there was more playing in general, but he is content with just being tossed snacks. Diluc has had to tell Zhongli more than once that

"No, Duke can't eat that!"

"But... he looks so sad. he really wants it..."

"It will make him sick!"

8. He appreciates the effort.

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ladydimitrescuspet · 3 years ago

Text

Some Things Stay The Same And Some Times They Change

ao3 link! this is horribly written but here's the break up fic based on this post of mine! I'm also going to have three different endings for this! please enjoy and apologies for any grammatical errors!

***

“I don’t understand, Y/N. Where is this coming from?” Alcina asked before she emptied her wine glass, setting it on the table closest to her.

It was a fair question considering the fact that you told Alcina that the two of you should breakup. However, you didn’t have an answer to her question. You leaned back into your chair a bit, the cup in your hands shaking ever so slightly as you held it. You stared at the liquid in the cup, your mind racing with thoughts. You were so preoccupied with them that you hadn’t noticed that Alcina had risen from her seat and was now kneeling in front of you.

“I’m sorry,” You whispered as you felt a tear slide down your cheek, plopping down into the contents of your cup. Alcina’s hands came around yours, prying the cup from them before she sat it down on the table. “I’m so sorry.” Your shoulders were starting to shake as more tears fell down your cheeks and you found yourself weeping in your chair.

Alcina moved one of her hands and used the pad of her thumb to wipe away some of your tears. “Hush now, darling. No need to apologise. I just wish that I understood what’s going on right now.” She replied as her hand cupped your cheek and you leaned into her touch.

You shook your head slightly. “I can’t. I’m sorry.” You mumbled into the palm of her hand. You looked into her eyes and the sorrow in them broke your heart. “I’m so sorry, Al. I wish this could be forever.” You said softly, stumbling over your words slightly before sniffling.

The two of you stayed like that for a moment before you used your hands to move hers away from your cheek. You didn’t let go of her hand, you held it, rubbing your thumb over her leather glove. You sniffled again before sighing and finally letting go of her hand.

“You should get a new hand servant, My Lady.” You said.

Alcina frowned at your words. “Nonsense, dear. This won’t have any effect on our professional relationship.” You had wanted to interrupt her but decided against it.

You licked at your sleep before speaking again. “With all due respect, My Lady, but I’d feel more comfortable if you did.” You rubbed your arms, feeling a bit cold. “And I’d like to request that you and your daughters, despite how fond they’ve become of me, treat me like you would any of the other servants, no special treatment from any of you.” You were surprised at how strong your words came out of you, not wavering in the slightest.

Alcina’s eyes searched your own for a minute before she gave a curt nod and stood. She cleared her throat before speaking, her role as Lady Dimitrescu seeping out with every word. “Very well then. You’re to retire for the night. Amelie will be around to collect your uniform and bring you your new uniform to wear.” She paused for a moment; she was pacing around the room. “I’ve decided that you’ll be cleaning the castle with minimal help tomorrow, so I expect you to be awake before anybody else. Is that clear?”

You nodded your head before standing up from your chair. “I understand, My Lady.” You replied. Your eyes were starting to well up again. “Good night, My Lady.” You quickly made your way out of the room before you took off running to your old room in the servant’s hall.

You weren’t surprised that you still had your old room, you’d stayed there a few times during your relationship with the Lady. But now that was over and this would be the only room you slept in at the castle.

You didn’t sleep at all before you made your way downstairs to eat a quick breakfast. You had spent the whole night packing up all of the things that Alcina had gifted you during your relationship. You had Amelie put the packed up gifts in Alcina’s room since she was her new hand servant, or so you assumed. You knew that if you had delivered it yourself that Alcina would’ve wanted you to keep them and you couldn’t do that, you couldn’t find it in yourself to keep anything she’d given you.

Making your way to a closet, you got all the things you needed to clean the castle. You had prepared yourself for having to clean the castle, making a plan on which rooms to clean first before working in the hallways. But the one thing you didn’t prepare for was the smell of her perfume. She wasn’t in the room you were getting ready to clean, was she? Did she know your plan or was it simply a coincidence? You froze in the hallway that was still slightly dark aside from the lights on the walls illuminating the hallway. You could feel the tears stinging in the back of your eyes. Should you just skip that room for now and continue onto the next one or should you just tough it out? Closing your eyes and letting out a soft exhale, you opted for the latter, moving toward the room that Alcina was in.

You felt her eyes land on you as soon as you entered the room. You bowed slightly. “My Lady,” You greeted before busying yourself around the room. It was one of the many sitting rooms Alcina had in the castle, you were quite familiar with it, always finding yourself in there when you wanted a quiet place to read or take a nap.

Alcina took a drag from her quellazaire and a sip of her wine before clearing her throat. “You didn’t want to keep your gifts.” It wasn’t a question, it was a statement. You stayed quiet, not offering her a reply. “I don’t take kindly to being ignored, little one.” Her words sounded a little slurred and it was only then that you noticed the multiple bottles of her Sanguis Virginis littering the room.

You realised that this was a mistake. You shouldn’t have walked in here knowing that she would be in there with you. You quickly made your way around the room, cleaning the shelfs and organising the furniture. She didn’t try to speak with you after you didn’t answer her question. Alcina felt a tinge of sadness wave over her when she heard you sniffle and suddenly the room became too small for the two of you so she grabbed the bottle she was currently drinking from and exited the room.

You had stopped working when you heard her get, looking over your shoulder slightly to see her ducking out of the room. A part of you wanted to go after her, but you didn’t. Instead, you opted for collecting her wine bottles and cleaning the rest of the room before you went on to clean the rest of the castle.

That was your routine for the next three months. You ate, cleaned the castle, avoiding Alcina when you could, ate again, and then went to sleep, as best as you could, just to do it all over again the next day. Except the next day was your birthday and when you left your room, your foot hit something. You sighed as you leaned down to pick the box up. You didn’t bother opening it and made your way to the person who had left it for you. Alcina.

When you reached her room, you knocked on the door. It was swiftly opened by Amelie who had taken your old position. She frowned a bit when she saw you but then gave you a small smile as she let you enter the room.

Upon entering the room, you lifted the box up. “I can’t accept this.” You said as the two golden eyes in the vanity mirror stared at you. Her stare caused you to shift on your feet slightly before you spoke again. “Can we speak? In private?” You asked.

Alcina nodded her head and waved Amelie away. “I’ll see you for tea, pet.” The girl nodded her head at Alcina’s words before leaving the room. When you didn’t speak after a while, Alcina cleared her throat. “We’re in private so speak.”

You fidgeted with your fingers. “Okay. I, well, you know I appreciate the, um, gifts, but you can’t…” You paused for a second, trying to keep your voice cracking. “You have to stop, Alcina. We’re not together anymore.” You said softly, grimacing at her bitter the words tasted.

“You didn’t say anything when I returned a gift to you, one that you’d given back to me, for the anniversary of your arrival.” She replied. It was true, you hadn’t said anything about it. In fact, you had kept it, you were wearing it. “If this is truly what you want, I simply won’t buy you anything else.”

You nodded your head before setting down the gift that you had parted with for the second time since the break up. “It wouldn’t be right.” You said before you left the room. You wiped at your eyes as you left.

You didn’t know this, but Alcina didn’t really stay true to her words. Every time she went to the village, she’d buy something that she thought you might like. She never gave the gifts to you, instead she put them with other gifts that she had piling up in one of her study closets. Often times when she was missing having you around or Amelie was doing something that annoyed her, she’d go through the closet, looking at the gifts that you’d returned and the gifts she never gave you.

On a particular stormy day, she’d sent Amelie out of the room and was going through the gifts. There was one gift that she was looking for, but no matter how many times she rummaged through the closet she couldn’t find it. Alcina thought that maybe you had forgotten to give it back to her, but she watched you set it down on a table in her room. Servants had come and gone out of the room since she’d put your things in the room and her mind went straight to the next most logical explanation as to why it was missing, someone had obviously stolen.

As Alcina exited the room, she found Amelie standing in the hallway. “Dear, what are you doing standing in the hallway?” Amelie opened her mouth to speak, but Alcina raised her hand. “Never mind your reason. Gather the servants in the main hall, leave Y/N to their tasks, this doesn’t concern them.”

Amelie nodded her head. “Right away, My Lady.” She said before scurrying downstairs. By the time she’d gotten all of the servants to the main hall, the Lady of the Castle was waiting. “Would you like me to stand with them, My Lady?” Alcina shook her hand and pointed to her side and that’s where Amelie went to stand.

“You may be wondering why you’re all here. The reason is simple. Something’s been stolen from my study and I’ve concluded that one of you have stolen it.” The servants started pleading with her, claiming that they hadn’t done anything. “Silence. You will speak when I call on you, if you speak out of turn, you’ll head straight to the cellar. “Andrei, you may speak first.”

While Alcina interrogated her servants, you were being approached by her three daughters, Bela, Cassandra, and Daniela. They weren’t exactly quiet in their movements, so you were prepared for them before they arrived.

“What can I do for you, My Lady’s?” You asked as you continue to dust a table in the hallway.

Daniela spoke up first. “I- We know that you’ve given Mother back anything she’s ever gifted you. But we also know that she gave you back something that you returned to her again.” Daniela said as she placed the locket on the table in front of you.

“We also know that you haven’t been sleeping well since you gave it back. The servants talk. A lot.” Bela added. “We thought it might help you sleep better if you had it with you.”

Cassandra nodded her head. “We know how much this gift from Mother meant to you and it would be a shame if you didn’t keep it.”

“And it doesn’t matter if you and Mother aren’t together anymore, Y/N. You’re like family to us so we want you to keep the locket to remember all of the good times we all had together.” Daniela said.

You turned to face them, your face was wet with tears. “Thank you.” You said before you pulled all three of them in for a hug. “But you still have to treat me like everybody else in the castle, no special treatment.” You said as you pulled back, wiping the tears from your face.

The three girls smiled and nodded at you before saying their goodbyes. As they headed down the hallway, they could hear their Mother yelling in the main hall. They each looked at each other with confused looks before turning into their respective swarms and heading down there.”

“Every single one of you have given me such flimsy excuses as to why something belonging to me is missing. It would do me no good to punish all you, so I’ll only punish the ones that have been assigned to clean that study.” Before she could get another word in, her daughters appeared.

“Mother, what’s going on?” Bela asked.

Alcina sighed before she addressed them. “Girls, something of mine has been stolen and I believe the thief is among our servants.” Alcina replied.

The three of them looked at each other, knowing exactly what she was talking about. “Mother, th- It was me.” Daniela said.

Alcina’s lips pressed together in a tight line and she dismissed the servants from the hall, including Amelie, with a snap of her fingers. “What, pray tell, do you mean, Daniela?” She asked with a raised eyebrow.

“This is about Y/N’s locket, yes? If so, then I took it so that we could return it to them.” Daniela said. “They haven’t been sleeping well since it was returned to you and we thought… well, we wanted them to keep it because it’s always meant so much to them since you gave it to them.”

Alcina’s hard expression softened at her daughter’s explanation. “And did they accept it?” The girls nodded their heads at their Mother. “I suppose I can forgive you for going through my study, Daniela, but you won’t be allowed to hunt with your sisters for a month and you’ll be on cellar duty in that time period.”

Daniela nodded her head. “Of course, Mother, I understand.”

"I wish you would've told me about your idea, darling." Alcina said as she walked toward her daughters. Daniela bowed her head, but Alcina lifted it back up with her finger. "It was very thoughtful of you to re-return the locker to Y/N." Alcina gave her daughters a smile before sending them away.

Alcina decided that she'd stop by your room to see how you were doing. But when she got there, she could hear you crying. It was something that you'd been doing since the break up, crying until you found yourself fast asleep. Alcina decided against knocking on your door, instead she walked away and back to her chambers. She didn't want to risk upsetting you any more than you already were.

You had known that Alcina was standing outside of your door, you could see her shadow under the door. A part of you wanted to call out to her, wishing that she would've knocked on the door instead of leaving. But the other part of you was grateful that she had decided to leave you alone.

You started at the locket in your hand, the one that Alcina had first gifted to you on Christmas. It was the last time you had celebrated the holiday with the Dimitrescu's. And inside the locket was a picture of you, Alcina, and her daughters. You remembered just how emotional you'd gotten over receiving the gift, it was one of the best things you'd ever gotten from someone.

You let out a small hiccup as your cries died down a bit. You held the locket close to you as you closed your eyes, letting sleep overcome you.

#lady dimitrescu #alcina dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu x reader #resident evil #resident evil village #resident evil 8

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thebooki3h · 4 years ago

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Lukadamianette Au Part 2

First Here Next

We begin where we left off, with Luka and Marinette on one of the dates Luka Planned. Just because it makes sense in this, Luka and Mari arrive a week early

Because Mari is emancipated and excused herself for the first week of school before the trip during which the class is still in France bc they just ended summer and all that jazz. also I have decided that the trip has turned into a half semester exchange program even though this doesn’t make the most sense, but the French school thought the class could use a reward and tbh they just wanted to get the Akuma class out for awhile. Also this way they aren’t in Gotham for a whole semester of senior year. The trip is planned for the first half of the first semester of senior year. I know that this doesn't make a whole lot of sense but just stick with me.

They go sight seeing and basically on a week long date bc the following week begins the Wayne sponsored exchange program and when Luka has to work for Jagged. One day they go to museums, the next the go to famous parks around Gotham (which are thriving thanks to Poison Ivy), the next they see all of the famous villain spots (which are surprisingly popular tourist destinations bc for the most part they don’t get hit twice in short periods of time) which is a good cover for studying past bat battles. They take days in between to rest and use the inspiration they gained to make new songs or clothing designs.

They share hotel room bc Mari’s parents stopped being her parents a long time ago and lost their say and bc Jagged says they are grown up enough to be responsible for their actions (which brings a blush to their cheeks every time bc “daaaaaddddd” “uncle jaggeeedddd”)

Mari also makes it her mission to visit all of the non chain coffee shops at least once while they are there bc coffee became her best friend when she was active as ladybug. She meets Tim in almost everyone because Tim also drinks coffee obsessively. Luka is more of a tea drinker because coffee interrupts his musical thought process and tea is less harsh. Marinette drinks tea when she wants to relax but coffee is the fuel of the gods. She expresses this to Tim and that's how they become acquainted bc finally someone understands his love for coffee. They exchange numbers after they run into each other for a fourth time. (Luka silently thinks that he might have to talk to Mari about her obsession of coffee again and if there is a rehab center for coffee drinkers) Tim learns that Mari is from the exchange class very quickly based off of Luka’s French accent as well as her light French accent that is mixed with a couple things he can’t quite place.

The class arrives, Lila ofc tried to pull something to leave Mari behind and she thought she was successful so she was gloating. She ofc took credit for the whole trip claiming that she was super close to the Waynes and that she helped Damian acclimate to his new school (she actually knows that Damian didn’t start living with his father until 10 bc why not). Mrs Bustier tries to check in under both her name and Lila’s name, both of which don’t work because they are A) an hour and a half early and B) all of the reservations are under the contest winners name (they have to ok their chaperones to use their name) C)Mrs Bustier told Mari to make all of the reservations under Mari’s name anyway and she totally forgot that.

So the sit in the lobby for an hour, Lila has the whole class riled up bc Marinette isn't there and it is al her fault that they can’t get in to their rooms. Marinette shows up with Luka 15 mins before the class was supposed to show up (they had just gotten lunch at a cafe that jagged had recommended) and she is laughing and happy, which causes the class to BLOW UP in her face. She ignores them and checks everyone into their rooms. Kagami and Chloe share a suite bc they are rich in their own right and upgraded their shared room bc they are dating and signed up to be roommates. They got this okayed by Buister in writing JIC. Marinette as the contest winner also got a suite (the room she had been staying in with Luka that she just extended the booking for)

Lila and Alya obviously make a big fuss about them getting special treatment but bustier can’t do anything because Mari won’t let her. She secretly thinks Mari is a lost cause now but she tries her best to get her to see that she has to be a role model. Mari actually planned the whole trip and she did a fucking fantastic job bc its Mari and planning something is what she is great at. She has all of the bases covered including iternerary, bookings for food, emergency contact info, health info, info on Gotham, safety procedures and the whole shebang. All of which had to be approved by Bustier and that Bustier has copies of but totally ignored.

The next day they try to pull the let’s leave an hour early to leave behind Marinette stunt. Not only does that fail because the tour can’t start until the contest winner is there, but they arrived before Wayne tower was even open to the public. Because jagged is extra he shipped Luka and Marinette motorcycles to Gotham bc they were going to be there for a couple months, they also got special permission from Wayne enterprises to park their bikes in the employee parking structures from Tim once he heard that they rode bikes as expensive as Jason’s. So she left early from the hotel with Luka(bc she knew that Bustier would leave her behind somehow) to go meet up with Tim at a new coffee place (one of his favorites). They end up riding on their respective bikes to WE together so they can hang out before the tour. Luka goes to a recording studio to meet up with Jagged, but not before a very passionate kiss goodbye, which makes Tim blush. (Tim may not seem like the biker type but he is a bat and he lives with Jason so he not only knows how to ride a motorcycle well has one, so it may not be his favorite mode of transportation but he’ll live)

So he and Marinette walk to WE about a half an hour before the class is supposed to be there in the middle of a debate on how best to brew coffee (Mari insists its French press) and low and behold they are there yelling at the receptionist. Mari gives Tim a look that says I’m so sorry you have to see this and yes I was not exaggerating walks up to the receptionist and apologizes for what she is about to do (not for the classes actions bc fuck them they can apologize for themselves she has learned to not take responsibility for others actions and she won’t let all that work go to waste). She then proceeds to yell, much louder than someone of her stature presumably should “SHUT THE FUCK UP OR I STG I WILL BREAK JOKER OUT OF ARKHAM AND LOCK HIM IN A ROOM WITH ALL OF YOU WITHOUT FLINCHING” this is shocking to everyone, especially mrs bustier who is scandalized that her role model student would do something like this.

Tim had a feeling that something video worthy would happen so as soon as she walked away he started recording, and he was NOT disappointed. The video gos straight to the batfam gc and Luka immediately. He powered off his phone then he proceeds to start laughing and applauding. Upon seeing the CEO’s reaction the rest of the employees start applauding as well bc damn those kids were rude. Tim then walks up to Mari talking at a speed no one but Mari, Chloe and Kagami could understand (bc the class is not fluent in English no matter what they would tell you). Mari proceeds to blush once he informs her that he sent a video to Luka (he does not tell her about the batfam gc)

Chloe and Kagami are immediate intrigued bc this is NOT what they picture when Mari said she met someone who loves coffee as much as she does. they may be hella gay for each other but damn that man is ripped. They join the convo while the class remains befuddled bc who knew Mari even swore. in the back of his mind Nino is reminded of a young blue-eyed girl who lost playground privileges for a week bc someone made fun of his glasses and proceed to punch said someone in the nose. But he shakes it of because Mari hasn’t been like that in years.

Bustier eventually collects herself and gently, so as not to cause an Akuma (apparently she didn't get the memo), reminds Mari that they are here for a tour and she needs to get the class their passes. So Mari leaves her friends to get acquainted and goes up to the receptionist, to whom she apologizes for her actions again, and the receptionist replies with a laugh and a “honey, you just made my week, there's no need to apologize I should be thanking you” (she does thank Mari). Mari gets a special pass bc she’s the contest winner to which Lila and Alya (then the rest of the class for the most part) proceed to throw a hissy fit over. The receptionist is so over them though and doesn’t even blink.

Then their tour guide shows up. (its Dick and his assistant Damian). Damian proceeds to scold the class for a solid ten mins (which coincidentally leads up to their scheduled time to start the tour). Dick slides off to talk to the receptionist and his brother who isn't working and is talking to real people for once. Just for that they are his favorite out of the class. Tim unfortunately has to go to work so they talk to Dick to get acquainted until the tour has to officially start.

Los tres amigos are the only ones who pay attention to Dick at all (he leads the tour bc he’s been there the longest but Damian throws in a comment here or there mostly related to shenanigans his family has gotten into but overall useful facts. for example these windows are reinforced because our CEO (Tim) leaned up against one, fell asleep and fell through the window to the office below.)

The rest of the class is focused on Lila who is talking a whole bunch of nonsense about the Wayne family and how she has helped them with their business. Some things actually sound kinda legit, but Mari and Co. know that it is BS. Dick tries to bet bustier involved but she makes an excuse for Lila and goes on her phone and doesn’t really pay attention.

Eventually the class tour turns into Dick talking to Mari, Chloe and Kagami while the class vaguely follows them. Damian doesn’t really say anything because he generally doesn’t do well talking to strangers and these girls seem ok and he is still insecure (not that he would ever admit it to anyone ) about social interaction now that he has figured out how people who weren’t raised as assassins act. That is until Dick starts talking about shenanigans that his brothers get into, and Damian jumps in correcting him because I did not try to tackle Todd, Grayson I did tackle Todd quite successful and also Alfred won’t let you into the kitchen anymore because you almost burned down the east wing of the manor not because he is territorial over the kitchen. And Mari hadn’t really paid attention to Damian until now but OH MY KAWAMI he is hot, and how did she talk so long to notice that.

She ends up taking a pic of Damian without him noticing (he really doesn’t notice which is a feat in itself but Dick does and he will be teasing Damian about it later bc obviously) and she texts it to Luka bc if she is going to freak out over his hotness she wants Luka to do so too. ( he sees the pic in the middle of recording and he ends up needing a water break bc gay panic and he really is extremely handsome. Recording gets delayed even longer bc jagged cannot pass up the opportunity to tease him son and he does so mercilessly and Mari totally knew what she was doing when she sent that picture) Luka ends up demanding that she gets Damians number or he will because that man is fine.

Mari now knows that the stuttering idolization that she had with Adrien wasn’t really healthy and Luka likes to remind her all the time that she can be smooth when she wants to be (sometimes unintentionally but she practices on Luka because she loves to see him blush). Mari then makes it her mission to compliment Damian as much as possible so that it is crystal clear and very obvious that she is flirting with him. If he even shows a little discomfort in a negative I don’t like this kind of way she will stop because she will not make someone go through what she went through with Chat Noir and unwanted advances.

Chloe, Kagami and Dick immediately notice that she is flirting with Damian. Chloe takes a video for Luka bc she knows that he would want to see this and Dick takes a video for the Batfam gc.

Just to be clear Mari and Luka have talked about seeing other people and maybe adding a third person to their relationship as long as they talk about it. that line of communication was opened when Mari sent a pic of Damian to Luka and when Luka asked for his number that was his “go ahead” for her to flirt with Damian. Lila doesn’t understand how that works and neither do the rest of the class so that is a point of contention between the class and Mari. She would NEVER cheat on Luka, she loves him and he is the most important person to her in the world. Something that Juleka understands (she just doesn’t like Mari bc of Lila she knows how polyamory works this is why her and Luka aren't as close as they used to be)

Moving on... the batfam gc blows up for a second time that day and so when the class goes to the cafeteria Tim just has to see this for himself. Mari tries not to be obnoxious in her flirting so she compliments Damians intelligence by asking him questions that weren't included in the tour, and she asks him about his interests and is like that must have taken a lot of time to perfect you must be very dedicated. Damian isn’t used to genuine compliments especially from strangers so he is very flustered by it but he makes no indication for her to stop.

The day winds down and the class has some free time before they have to go to dinner but the do have to leave the tower. Mari does actually get Damians number (he thinks she must be very well trained to get his number that quick bc he refuses to accept that he gave it to her because he likes her) Mari promises to ft him later bc he promised to let her meet his dog and she doesn’t want to wait until the class has dinner at the manor to see Titus.

First Here Next

Taglist

@dood-space

@toodaloo-kangaroo

Also I’m not very sure about how to go back and edit posts to link new parts so if anyone knows how to do that please comment or message me because I would love to learn!

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ferret-not-microwave · 3 years ago

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Les Amis Modern AU: What They Wish Others Believed About Them (Part 3).

[I kind of wrote this in response to some general trends in characterising the Amis. There are some stereotypes which I'm not quite comfortable with.

[Also, OMG I didn't think people would like these posts so much. Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thaaaank you to all who gave the cutest hashtags, y'all are so encouraging!]

[Also, I'm sorry I just posted on R and Eponine today. :'(

Just have a lot on my mind. I'll write on JBM tomorrow, promise.]

Grantaire:

• He. Is. Not. Weak. Seriously, he could really do without those people who think he's a broken mess who loses absolutely every bit of self respect when he sees Enjolras. Just because Enj had shut him up with harsh words on like one occasion does not mean that he lets Enj or anyone walk all over him on a regular basis. He is NOT a doormat, not by a long shot.

• He could also REALLY do without those people with massive saviour complexes who swoop in to save him from the big, bad world. He accepts tons of help and love from the Amis, but will not accept any kind of pity service, damnit (and they know it). And it takes a lot of strength to plow through alcohol addiction to sobriety.

• He is pretty much a guardian angel in bars because of his history with addiction. He knows how much drink can a person take, and which drink they should avoid. With Bahorel, he hovers around the rest of them, snatching away glasses when the lightweights get too drunk, and replacing them with glasses of water. That he can box also comes handy. Sometimes. Heh.

• Not every point he says to oppose Enj is a cynical barb. And they don't always have screaming matches in the Musain. There have been many days of trading constructive criticism, because R has a lot of first-hand experience about the city. R usually knows the fine line between Enj getting combative and Enj getting hurt/frustrated, and has learnt not to say something so cynical that he crosses the line.

• Like everyone else, R is also learning. He is working on his prejudices, realises that some his past jokes were insensitive, sometimes even sexist or ableist, and actively corrects himself and others around him.

• Further, their relationship did not start with a dramatic makeout session mid-argument. Because both of them are on the way to being mature adults who know that aggressively displaying sexual tension is not the best way to start a relationship.

• It is not just Enj he's generally cynical to. He's cynical, that's it. And he does enjoy arguments with the others, where there's mutual exchange of knowledge, because he does not ever believe that the rest just parrot what Enj has to say. He has captured everyone's argument face in his sketchbook: Ferre waving his hands about, Courf's eyes widened mid-rant, Feuilly's eyes narrowed with a brief, brusque comment, Jehan's smiling like a cat who got the cream when their argument hits home, Bahorel thumping the desk in jovial agreement, Marius processing what he's hearing. He kinda likes Les Amis L'ABC too, not just the people there.

• While there are rough days when his self esteem runs sub-zero, there are days when he is super happy with himself. These are not exactly blink-and -miss either. The Amis cherishes his beaming smile when he defeats Ferre on Trivia Night, sings beautifully on Karaoke Night, paints an AMAZING picture of all the Amis in a protest and shows it off to all of them, cooks a meal which JBM raves about, and, on one memorable occasion, makes a V important point in a meeting that leaves Enj starry-eyed. There are things he hides from them because he's too shy and doubtful, but they are decreasing.

• There are days when he goes into a house-cleaning spree. Like the scrubbing tables-dusting-throwing out piles of trash-cleaning corners with q tips-kind of spree. Which leaves him so exhausted that he can't get out of bed the day after. So yeah, his place isn't always shabby.

Eponine:

• She is tough. She is blunt, and to the point. But she is not rude without reason, just to be edgy or something. And definitely doesn't throw around idle threats. Most of the Amis find her very pleasant, actually. She gives a small smile to everyone, cracks dry jokes, lobs scrunched-up balls of paper from across the room and fights with Courf for the caramel popcorn bucket. She doesn't yell to make a point, but speaks it aloud with a lazy drawl while fiddling with a rubber band ("Bull", she says, eloquently enough). To new people, she is just that shy and suspicious, so she doesn't really talk.

• The thing she wants the most is to feel safe. Hence she is often quiet, suspicious and moody. She feels really upset if people think she's horrible (or a "bitch", like she sometimes hears random people say about her) just because she cannot trust people enough to be all smiles and rainbows, even though she wants to be. She also feels really vulnerable, and is always scared that people wil leave her or hurt her once they know that she panics and cries a lot. She feels safe with the Amis, and many a times you'll find her as a sniffling burrito on someone's couch. THIS DOESN'T MEAN SHE'S WEAK, THIS MEANS SHE HAS A LOT OF SHIT GOING AND NEEDS RELEASE. -_-

• Her preference for dark clothes started because dark clothes seemed easier to maintain. She needed lesser amounts of detergent, and could stretch it out for longer before the inevitable laundry walk. She had actually asked Jehan for goth fashion tips to liven things up, and they had provided her optimal options (like dark lipstick). Still, she doesn't wear fishnets everyday, and just saves them for "special occasions".

• She is one of R's best friends. But no, she is not his personal babysitter. She doesn't go chasing everyone who she thinks has hurt him immediately, neither does she always haul him around when he's down in the dumps. She usually gives him sound advice, checks on him whenever she gets breaks between shifts, and if she cannot help, sends an Ami or two along.

• Her go-to way of showing disappointment in anyone is to send them a voice message stating exactly how they have fucked up (in an ice cold voice) and giving them the silent treatment until they fix things or apologize. Only once did she go nuclear on someone, no one wants to talk about it.

• Ep is a big sap. She does not really conceal her love of heart-shaped Valentine cards, pink roses and candles. Don't forget that she grew up in fair comfort tilll her preteen years, and she had exposure to much sappy media. While the Amis were surprised initially, she makes them take it in stride. She gets a strawberry cake every birthday, complete with pink balloons et al. (organised by Courf). She dreams of going to Disneyland.

• In the face of danger (men following her on the streets or something), her first response is flight, not fight. She knows that fighting can often make things worse, and cannot afford frequent trips to the ER. She can fight, though. She just doesn't want to until absolutely necessary, for self-preservation. She's brilliant at amateur first aid.

#les amis #les miserables #les mis #les miz #grantaire #eponine #modern au #both of them are sweet beans #love them both #ferret's freshly microwaved post

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king-finnigan · 4 years ago

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5 times Jaskier didn’t realize Geralt was giving him a gift for his birthday and 1 time he did

As part of my 500 followers celebration! Masterlist

***

Jaskier practically falls down on the chair opposite Geralt, giving his cheering audience one final wave, before he turns his back to them, dumping the coins he earned on the table, setting his lute down next to him gently.

“Well, that went swimmingly,” Jaskier says, and Geralt rolls his eyes at his wide grin, but can’t stop a small smile from appearing on his own face, as well.

“Hmm.”

“Oh, please, Witcher, even you can appreciate a good performance when you see one, no need to be so dismissive of my charms and talent.”

Geralt rolls his eyes again. Usually, he would’ve simply hummed noncommittally, and dropped the subject for the evening, but today’s Jaskier’s birthday. It’s been nagging at him all day, especially because Jaskier hasn’t even said anything about it. He knows humans like their birthdays, like to celebrate another year lived in this damned world – and he would’ve expected Jaskier to be prancing around all day, demanding special treatment and gifts and attention.

But he hasn’t. And that confuses Geralt. It’s not like Jaskier’s forgotten when his own birthday is – hell, he let the date slip a few months ago, so he certainly remembers, but he simply hasn’t mentioned anything about it, today. He doesn’t even seem particularly happy about it.

If anything, he seems almost sad. Which makes matters worse, because what kind of human is sad on their own birthday? Certainly not the kind he expected Jaskier to be, of all people.

So he’s conflicted. On one hand he wants to say something, but on the other hand, Jaskier doesn’t seem to be in the mood for it.

Also, he doesn’t really have a gift he can give. Hell, he doesn’t even know what kind of gift someone expects for their birthday, it’s been so long since he’s celebrated one.

He does get an idea all of a sudden, and clears his throat. Jaskier, already distracted by a fair maiden on the other side of the room, turns back to the Witcher, eyebrows raised. “Something the matter, Geralt?”

The Witcher purses his lips, shakes his head, decidedly staring at his own ale, instead of meeting Jaskier’s eyes. “Uh… You’re right. Good performance.”

He looks up right in time to see Jaskier’s face light up like the morning sun, and the bard reaches across the table, softly pushing at Geralt’s shoulder, leaving a trail of fire in his wake when he pulls back again. “Why thank you, Witcher! I knew even you could see that.” He throws Geralt a wink, before he downs his ale, standing up and sauntering over to the lady on the other side of the room, who welcomes him with open arms. He doesn’t have the strength to watch them leave, so he retreats to his own room, and hopes the compliment he gave is enough of a gift for Jaskier. At least this year.

II.

It’s Jaskier’s birthday. Geralt only remembers because the bard seems sad again, which means that, unfortunately, this time he’s as unprepared as he was last time.

So he spends the entire morning desperately looking around, searching for ideas for a gift – though, he comes up basically empty-handed. What he does notice, though, is that Jaskier seems to be limping slightly.

He frowns down at the bard from where he’s sitting on Roach, before he pulls her to a halt. Jaskier walks a couple of steps more, seemingly lost in thought, until he realizes he’s walking alone, and turns around, looking confused. “Why have we stopped?”

“What’s wrong with you?” He closes his eyes, mentally cursing himself when Jaskier’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline, face indignant.

“Ex- excuse me, Witcher, but-“

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he interrupts Jaskier before the bard can go on a long, offended tangent about how absolutely rude and uncaring of his feelings Geralt is, or something similar. “You’re limping.”

Jaskier shrugs, the slight hurt disappearing from his face again. “Ah, well, yeah, I sort of sprained my ankle this morning when I went to the river to wash off. It’s nothing really, but- Geralt, what are you doing?”

Geralt’s feet hit the dusty path, and he steps to the side. “Get on Roach.”

“I- what?”

He resists the urge to roll his eyes. “Get. On. Roach.”

Though still clearly very confused, Jaskier obliges, and gets on the mare. “Not that I don’t appreciate this, but- why? You never let me ride Roach.”

If Geralt could’ve blushed, he would’ve right now, as he takes Roach’s reigns and starts walking again, pointedly looking at anything but Jaskier. “You’ll just slow us down.” A blatant lie, but he hopes Jaskier won’t be able to tell. At least the bard seems a little less sad now, and he hopes that it’s enough of a gift for Jaskier. At least this year.

III.

The next time, he’s still very unprepared, and he starts to doubt that he ever will be. He’s also run out of ideas for gifts for Jaskier, and frantically tries to figure something out before the day is over. But it’s well past dinner time, and he still has no idea what to do.

Worse than that, he has no clue where the hell Jaskier even is.

Well, until he walks out of the inn, and hears a raised voice coming from the alley.

Well enough, there Jaskier is, against the wall, three men surrounding him, shouting something about how the bard slept with their sister or something like that – because of course he did. Honestly, it’d be a miracle if Jaskier could stop sleeping around in every town they come across for a week.

He rolls his eyes, the little tendril of fear that had been awakened in him at the sight of Jaskier getting threatened by three men slowly dying down when he sees that none of them have weapons. Really, the only thing they can do is beat the bard up a bit. Though, unfortunately, that doesn’t mean Geralt won’t step in – he always fucking does, for some reason.

He walks forwards. “Gentlemen, what seems to be the problem?”

One of them turns towards him, fear creeping into his slightly rancid smell. “He slept with our sister, Witcher.”

He looks at Jaskier, eyebrows raised, and the slight guilt and exhilaration in the bard’s eyes tells him the men are right.

He sighs. “Not possible, he’s been by my side the entire night.”

“But Witcher-“

“Are you saying that I’m lying?”

The three men look away. “No, sir. We’ll… we’ll go.”

“Hmm.” He watches as the brothers hurry past him, before turning towards Jaskier, who’s smoothing down his clothes.

The bard looks at him with a shit-eating grin, and Geralt rolls his eyes again. “Thanks, Geralt! Knew you’d come save me. There does seem to be a slight problem, though…” He looks down at his bare feet. “I forgot my shoes in her room. Maybe I should go back and-“

Geralt shakes his head, then turns around, motioning for Jaskier to follow him. Any other day, he would’ve let the bard fetch his own shoes back, but today is not just any day, he knows. “I’ll buy you a new pair,” he grumbles. He hopes that it’s enough of a gift for Jaskier. At least this year.

IV.

The next time it’s Jaskier’s birthday, he’s a little bit more prepared – but only barely, still. He’d realized that it was coming up soon a week before the actual day, and had gone to the market in a dingy nowhere town shortly after that, while Jaskier was busy at the inn, cleaning his lute. (Geralt hadn’t been sure in which way Jaskier was cleaning his lute, but he’d decided that it didn’t matter.)

An old woman at a jewellery stall had told him humans liked objects for their birthdays – preferably expensive. Unfortunately, they were short on coin, so Geralt had asked the lady what kind of non-expensive gift he could give his long-time travelling companion and friend.

She had pointed to a ring, silver and engraved with waves. It had cost him a fair deal of coin, still, but he’d taken it – after all, silver protects against monsters, and he figures it’s both practical and, as Jaskier prefers things, nice-looking.

However, that did leave him with one question: when and how is he going to give it to the bard?

It’s been plaguing him all day, that simple matter. At first, he thought it best to give it at breakfast, but they had been attacked by a small pack of Drowners, so that hadn’t been an option. After that, he decided it would be best to give it at lunch, after they had arrived at the next small town. Except, Jaskier was nowhere to be found – at least, until Geralt walked past the blacksmith, and heard soft gasps in a familiar voice coming from behind the building. He’d walked away as quickly as possible, ignoring the small jab in his chest.

And now it’s already dinner time, and Jaskier’s performing and showing absolutely no signs of stopping, even though it’s well past midnight. So should Geralt give it to him afterwards? Or should he wait until tomorrow? Or should he toss the ring away, dig a hole in the wet dirt outside, bury himself in it, never to be found again? He decides the last option is the best one, but unfortunately, he doesn’t have a shovel and there’d be no one to take care of Roach.

Eventually, he decides to just head to bed. All this worrying and the heat of the tavern has got his head pounding, and frankly, he can’t wait for all this gift-giving bullshit to be over. He’s a Witcher, for crying out loud. Witchers don’t give gifts. Except he still bought a silver ring for Jaskier, last week.

He sighs, downing his ale, heading up the stairs. He pauses for a second in their shared room, when his eye falls on Jaskier’s bag, sitting in the corner. He strains his ears, hears that Jaskier is singing ‘Toss a Coin’ – which is always the last song for the evening – and decides he has to hurry up. He quickly opens the bag, burying the ring at the bottom of it, before he closes it again.

He’s barely stood up again, when the door to the room opens, and Jaskier walks in, lute in hand, grin on his face. “Ah, Geralt! Was wondering where you went…” he muses, setting his lute down in the corner, pulling his slightly sweaty doublet over his head. “So, what’d you think? Another stellar performance, I presume.”

“Hmm.”

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

Geralt rolls his eyes, and quickly takes off his clothes, laying down in the bed. After a short while, Jaskier joins him, laying down on the other side. He doesn’t say anything except a “goodnight, Geralt”, and his mood seems unchanged – still slightly sad – so Geralt assumes he hasn’t found the ring yet.

A few days later, his eye is caught by something glistening in the afternoon sun. It’s a silver ring, engraved with waves, on Jaskier’s right hand, and Geralt barely suppresses a small smile at the sight. The bard seems in a particularly good mood as well, and Geralt hopes that it’s enough of a gift for Jaskier. At least this year.

The next year, he’s prepared. A month beforehand, when they stop in Oxenfurt for a few days, he goes to a little shop, tucked between two tall buildings while Jaskier catches up with some old friends in a tavern nearby.

He buys some bath salts that smell of roses, some soap that smells like red berries, some lavender oil against irritated skin, and, for good measurement, a lemon candle. It’s a pretty hefty sum, but he buys it all anyways – he tells himself it’s because they’ve been doing well monetary-wise lately, not because Jaskier’s smile is worth all the money in his purse and more.

Once again, he still doesn’t know how he should give it, though, and he simply hides it in Jaskier’s bag on his birthday again. He keeps a close eye on the bard, that evening, as he rummages through his bag for soap and bath salt, after Geralt suggested they could afford the luxury of a bath tonight, and offered Jaskier to go first. The bard had looked at him weirdly, but Geralt had pretended he didn’t notice.

“Oh!” Jaskier exclaims, as he fishes rose bath salts and berry soap out of his bag. “Huh. Must’ve forgotten about these.” He shrugs and stands up, closing the door to the adjacent bathroom behind him. Geralt smiles softly as he hears Jaskier getting into the bath, hears him humming softly. He seems in a good mood – more so than he did this morning. Geralt hopes that it’s enough of a gift for Jaskier. At least this year.

+ I

This time, he’s prepared months in advance, when they visit Novigrad. He finally has an idea of what Jaskier might want for his birthday, and as soon as the bard is gone to find a tavern to perform in, Geralt hurries to the nearest instrument builder.

There, he buys an expensive set of lute strings – once again, because they’re doing well monetary-wise, not because he wants Jaskier to be happy and is willing to pay any price for that. As soon as he gets back to the inn, he hides them at the bottom of his bag, smiling slightly when he imagines Jaskier’s face when he gets them. Though, he’ll need to find a way to actually give Jaskier his gift this time. Or maybe not. Maybe he’ll chicken out again and hide it in Jaskier’s bag, waiting for the bard to find it. He’ll see.

It isn’t until a few months later, on Jaskier’s birthday, that he knows for sure he’s going to chicken out again.

At least, that is, until Jaskier starts rummaging through the Witcher’s bag. Geralt pales, his heart sinking to his feet, and he’s ready to tell the bard to get his fucking hands out of that bag, for the love of the gods.

But it’s too late.

“Geralt, have you seen my chemise somewhere? The white, frilly one, with the metal buttons and-“ He stills, eyes wide, mouth slightly agape as he looks down into Geralt’s bag.

Geralt can only stare in horror as Jaskier pulls the lute strings from the bottom of his bag. “Geralt, why do you have these in your bag?” He doesn’t give him time to answer. “And they’re expensive as w- Geralt why do you have expensive lute strings in your bag?”

If Geralt could’ve blushed, he would’ve, and he looks away. “Uh… They’re uh… For your birthday, today.”

Jaskier simply stares at him, eyes wide. “How do you know it’s my birthday?”

Geralt shrugs, rubs at the back of his neck, trying to get rid of that uncomfortable feeling in his spine. “You told me, a few years ago.”

“And you remembered.” He says it flatly. “Even though I don’t celebrate it, you remembered that one time I mentioned my birthday years ago.”

He shrugs again, looks away.

“Wait, then why would you give me something this year, but not all the other years?”

Geralt bites the inside of his cheek, still looking at anything but Jaskier. “I did, but-“

“You did? I don’t remember…” This time Geralt does look at Jaskier, and sees the bard staring at him, so wide-eyed it’s almost comical. “The soap,” he whispers. “I didn’t buy that myself, you did”

Geralt nods, then shrugs.

“And the ring? That was you, too?”

Geralt nods again, and Jaskier shakes his head.

“Why the hell didn’t you just give it to me, instead of sneaking it into my bag like… like some- some reverse thief?”

“Because I thought you didn’t want any gifts. You always seemed so sad on your birthday, and you didn’t mention it, so I figured you don’t want to celebrate it.”

Jaskier suddenly laughs, and stands up, lute strings clutched to his chest as he walks towards Geralt. “I’m always sad because I don’t get any gifts. I never did. My parents were horribly against it, saying I would get spoiled or something, and I never mentioned it because I didn’t think you’d give a shit.”

Geralt feels a sharp pang in his chest, as the realization kicks in. “But I do give a shit.”

Jaskier laughs again, looks at the lute strings, still in his hand. “Clearly. I just wished you would’ve said so sooner.”

“I thought you knew.”

Jaskier scoffs, looks at him with eyes the colour of the sky and a smile that would make the sun hide away in shame. “Well, I didn’t. If I did, I would’ve kissed you sooner.”

Geralt furrows his brow. “Wh-“ His breath hitches in his throat when Jaskier lays a hand on the back of his neck, pulling him closer, their lips separated less than half an inch – so, so painfully close, but not yet touching.

“May I?” Jaskier whispers.

Geralt doesn’t respond, but merely closes the gap between them, kissing his bard softly. Jaskier smiles into the kiss, and the witcher can’t help but smile as well, as he pulls his bard closer. Too soon, it’s over, and they’re leaning their foreheads against each other, breaths intertwining.

“So,” Jaskier whispers to him. “When’s your birthday?”

Geralt grins. “Don’t even think about it.”

#geraskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #the witcher #the witcher fanfiction #500 followers #drabble #5+1 things

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petri808 · 4 years ago

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1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 | 31 | 32 | 33-Epilogue

Neither Lucy nor Natsu sat through the closing arguments, but according to Gajeel the defense stood firmly on their case for insanity. Touka’s attorney argued that his client suffered from a disorder that should put her in a hospital for treatment, not a jail cell, and not only that, but the so-called victims in the case drove her to do what she did. It was a very risky move to blame the victims. Of course, the prosecution countered that not only did Touka not suffer from any condition but that this was a simple case of jealousy gone wrong. Natsu and Lucy were innocent victims of a selfish woman who tried to kill them. Period, and for that she should go to prison for the maximum sentence allowed.

The prosecutor implored to the jurors heartstrings. “You saw the effects that Ms. Shiromajyo caused to her victims. The tears shed on the stand and the genuine fear in Ms. Heartfilia’s testimony as she recounted the events in question. Ladies and gentlemen, this young woman stared death in the face and watched her boyfriend almost get killed by the defendant. They had to fight to survive! Ms. Heartfilia and Mr. Dragneel have experienced something that no one should ever go through.” He gestured at the timeline board facing them. “Ms. Shiromajyo stalked multiple people over the course of several years to reach her goal, intimidating people that really had nothing to do with her. Ms. Shiromajyo paid a person to kill Ms. Strauss, threatening and intimidating her. And most of all, ultimately took this whole situation into her own hands when all of her efforts didn’t work out. She is a danger to society. I urge you, the jury to give her victims the peace of mind that she’ll be off the streets in a cell getting the treatment that she needs, and the punishment she deserves.”

It was a nerve wracking time for the victims as they waited outside of the court room for the jury to deliberate. Lucy and Natsu stayed in a side room with the prosecutor along with their closest friends and family there to support them. The prosecutor assured them that they’d done their best and the odds were in their favor. But of course, it only took one hold out to cause a mistrial, and Lucy didn’t know if she could go through this again. She was already unhappy that even if convicted, Japan’s sentencing structures were not as stringent as other countries.

The jury deliberated for four hours before reaching a verdict pronouncing Touka guilty of all charges. Upon hearing the guilty decision, Lucy and Natsu slipped back into the court room to hear the final disposition.

“Rise Ms. Shiromajyo.” The judge then read the decision to the standing defendant. “You have been found guilty by this court of two counts of attempted murder that caused injury. One count of kidnapping for profit. And three counts of intimidation. Do you have any last statement to make to the court before I render sentencing?”

Touka hung her head as if resigned to her fate. “Yes...” Surprisingly, to all those in the courtroom, she apologized for her actions. “I see now how much pain I caused to everyone because I couldn’t control myself and I hope one day they’ll forgive me for it.”

But her words of contrition were too little, too late. The judge sentenced Touka to the maximum of the highest offense, which was 15 years with work, but instead of the work condition, imposed a special circumstance that Touka be ordered to undergo mandatory psychological treatment while in custody and to adhere to any treatments and medications prescribed for her own good.

“Ms. Shiromajyo,” the judge spoke directly to the woman. “You’ve apologized at the end, but I hope you truly feel that way. Based on all of the evidence presented in court, your actions were clearly towards a one-sided love affair with a man who wanted nothing to do with you, and for that you tried to punish an innocent woman who got in your way. I do not believe, and the jury agreed, that you do not suffer from a legal defense of mental defect, however you should spend the time in prison to get your mind right again, so that when you re-enter society in the future, you’ll no longer suffer from whatever emotional problems brought you here in the first place. You are very lucky that I cannot under the law sentence you to concurrent sentences for every single charge. Bailiff, take custody of the prisoner. This case is adjourned.”

As the final gavel bang echoed in the court room, Natsu and Lucy who’d made it in time to hear it all, broke down in tears and elation as the court room erupted in cheers around them. A rarity for the poised population. This case was certainly anything but common for Japan, especially because the perpetrator was a woman and journalists had kept the public up to date with its progress. A lot of people were affected by this case personally, but the fear of what Touka had done rang cold for onlookers too. For the public, the idea that someone you may know could harbor ill will and do something this heinous was a scary proposition.

While the case was now over, Lucy knew her own struggles with anxiety were not, despite the tiny relief she’d felt in hearing the words guilty. She’d made it through the trial by sheer determination, but the experience had set her back in her progress. Reliving all the worst events and being grilled by the defense had re-traumatized her. Not all the way regressed, but the nightmares were back anew, starting immediately after her recall testimony.

It wasn’t just the old memories that haunted Lucy, but a new, troubling thought brought out during that testimony. When the defense attorney tried to make her think she was just as bad as Touka, there was a point when she thought... was it true? And the more she pondered, the worst the correlation became despite her loved ones conviction that she was nothing like the woman. Because... why not? If Touka’s deluded mind really believed she was protecting what was hers, well isn’t that the same logic Lucy used to defend herself and Natsu? Then there was the rage she’d felt. Was the attorney, right? If Natsu hadn’t stopped her from beating the woman, would she have killed Touka? Did that mean she had a killer instinct too?

All the publicity surrounding the trial didn’t help one bit. Just trying to get out of the court room after the verdict had been a complete circus of cameras flashing and microphones being shoved in the couples faces wanting their opinions of the verdict. Oh, how Lucy wanted to scream in their faces! How do they think they’d feel?! Yes, it felt great to be vindicated, but 15 years for almost killing them? Where were their assurances that when Touka was released, she wouldn’t pick right back up where she’d left off and hunt them down?

All these irrational thoughts fueling the new regression were different from before. Lucy didn’t feel as anxious. She was a little depressed, but now she was also— angry.

When she arrived at her therapy session without Natsu, Lucy sat on the couch facing the woman with her arms crossed. The therapist was quick to note the way in which she was holding her poise because it wasn’t a comforting arm cross, but a firm one. The muscles in her forearms were tense along with the tight lipped and brows furrowed expression gracing Lucy’s face.

“Well, this is certainly new,” the woman put her notebook down as she spoke. “Something has changed, shall we talk about it?”

Lucy’s hands clenched firmly as her eyes look away slightly. “I had a small argument with Natsu this morning.”

“I get the impression it wasn’t small.”

“Okay! It was a big fight! Happy?!” Lucy’s arms unfurled and gesticulated. “I don’t even know why it got out of hand, but it did.”

“Tell me what happened and let’s figure it out together.”

“Tch,” Lucy crossed her arms again and looked away. “I woke up from a nightmare. He started comforting me like he al—ways does, and I told him to stop. But he didn’t.”

“Why’d you tell him to stop?”

“I don’t know... I was just, irritated.”

“With him?”

“Yes... No— both, I don’t fucking know! Just pissed off, okay?! I was just angry and didn’t wanna be bothered!”

“I see... and how did Natsu react?”

“He, well, um,” Lucy’s shoulders dropped a bit. “He just said okay, I’ll give you space if you want it and left the bedroom. And we haven’t spoken since then.”

“It sounds like Natsu respected your wishes to back off. But why is that making you so angry?”

The therapists question brought instant tears pooling in Lucy’s eyes. She knew why, but she didn’t know why, and holding it in was tearing her apart. But she also didn’t know how to articulate all of the random thoughts plaguing her in a way that made sense. So, at that moment she just broke. Through fitful sobs the cacophony of broken, fragmented thoughts spewed out in no logical manner. Lucy just spoke every word and sentence that came to mind as the therapist sat quietly listening.

This was her first session since the trial had ended, so all of the wounds were painfully fresh. Shouldn’t she be happy it was over? They were free for now and it was time to move forward but all she could think about were the things the attorney had said. And that made her angry with herself. Lucy’s always thought she was so much stronger, yet this experience or rather the effects left her feeling lost and broken, and weak. Even more infuriating for her, she knew these thoughts were completely irrational! It’s one thing to not understand, it’s another to know how stupid it sounded and not be able to fight back against it. Weak. That’s what it made her feel. Stupid and weak for losing herself. They may have won against Touka, but Touka had taken something away and Lucy feared she’d lost it forever.

Who she was.

The therapist moved over to the couch and hugged tightly to a sobbing Lucy, stroking her hair and cradling her head. Comforting in silence allowed the blonde to just cry, as hard as she needed to and release everything that had been held inside where it shouldn’t stay. When the tears slowed, and Lucy’s breathing had the normalized, the therapist spoke softly.

“You’re not broken, Lucy, and you’re not dumb. You’re rightfully in pain after everything you’ve experienced, and that’s okay too.”

“How is that okay?” Lucy sniffled. “It shouldn’t be okay!”

“It’s not fair what you had to endure but being upset and feeling pain because of it means you’re human. Even the anger is a good feeling right now.”

Lucy snorts an annoyed laugh at such a ridiculous sounding statement. Anger being, okay?!

“There are positives we can take from this.”

Again, Lucy huffs. “Yeah, right. That makes a lot of sense.”

The therapist pulls back and settles into a more professional pose to continue. “Your anger means you care. Think about it, if you didn’t care, you wouldn’t get angry, right?”

“I guess...”

“In all these months, this is the first time I am seeing a deep passion coming from you. Lucy you aren’t really lost, and this anger are those feelings screaming ‘I’m still here!’ You can use that same energy to push forward.”

“But what about Natsu?” Lucy’s eyes cloud up. “I think I really made him mad a-and I don’t want to lose him.”

“Did he come with you today?”

“Yeah, he’s in the waiting room.” Lucy mumbled through a frown. “But I think he just came cause he felt obligated.”

The therapists eyes softened along with her tone. “I have a feeling that’s not the case. He might feel hurt and confused right now, but I’m sure he still loves you deeply. Maybe we should bring him in here and talk things over? That way I can help you through it.”

Lucy paused for a moment before nodding weakly. “I’d like that.”

The therapist brought Natsu into the room and as soon as he saw the puffy red eyes and Lucy’s disheveled appearance immediately stumbled over and hugged onto her with tears of his own flowing down, apologizing over and over for upsetting her that morning.

Although Lucy stiffened up at first when he’d hugged her in fear of what he might say, his words instead stunned her. All along she’d felt the fight was her fault, not his. She’d been the bitch to him and now his pain brought her tears back along with a loss of her anger. “It’s not your fault,” she hugged him back. “I was angry with myself and took it out on you. That wasn’t fair.”

“But I shouldn’t have walked away like I did.”

“No,” Lucy exhaled, “you did the right thing. I... I needed something to wake me up.”

Natsu pulled back in confusion. “What do you mean?”

Lucy smiled weakly. “Coming here mad, I couldn’t hide it so she made me talk about it. Now I see how that needed that to happen and I feel a lot better because of it. I was just worried you’d hate me for the way I acted.”

“I could never hate you,” Natsu smiled and cupped Lucy’s cheeks. “I told you, you’re stuck with me.”

By that point, the therapist had gone back to her own chair and with the session almost over for that day, addressed the couple together. “Lucy right now I think you are at a very good point in your progress. Your anxiety had gotten better, the depression is still there, but it’s not as debilitating as it was before, so now it’s time to take the next step in the healing process. You’d mentioned wanting going back to school and the next semester starts in a month. Perhaps it’s time to consider going back?”

“I-I don’t know if I could handle full time...”

“Maybe reach out to the school and see if they’ll work with you on a modified schedule?”

“I guess I could...”

“And I’ll help you,” Natsu added on as he squeezed Lucy’s hand. “They’ve been really supportive so far.”

Lucy let out a long exhale. “Okay. I’ll give it a shot.”

“I’ve got another suggestion too,” Natsu added. “If you get angry, you could take it out with a physical sport or something.”

“That’s actually a good outlet,” the therapist agreed. “Is there anything you’re interested in?”

“Um...” Lucy thought about for a couple minutes. “I thought about taking self-defense classes.”

“That would be cool! Maybe we can go together?”

“I’d really, really like that.” And first time in a long time, Lucy truly meant it.

#nalu #nalu au #nalu fan fic #nalu fan fiction #Natsu dragneel #Lucy heartfilia #Natsu x lucy #stangers on a train #ch 31

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royaldescendants · 3 years ago

Text

the darkest little paradise

moodboard made by me

masterlist

Chapter 1

Hades sat in his living room, turning off the TV. His own kid was getting engaged, and he hadn’t even been able to meet the kid she was planning to marry.

He chuckled, wondering how things would’ve gone down if this had been way back when. The kid would’ve had to ask him, and if he’d gotten that far Hades would’ve said yes.

On the condition that the kid was the one to tell Mal’s mother of course, because there was no way Hades was getting in the way of his wife potentially crying over their daughter ‘growing up too fast’.

He had seen the tears when Mal started walking. And when she started talking, when her first word was ‘mama’? He had had to call her best friend to console her. Probably why gods weren’t typically too involved, he mused, the heartache of not knowing if your kid was immortal or not was excruciating.

He drank from the skull flask he’d traded for with the faux-pirate crew. Had to keep up the aesthetic somehow, and it wasn’t like he was able to get anything stronger than a weak ale. It was the only thing that kept for a long time, wouldn’t make you sick, and had some semblance of hydration.

He wondered if Mal remembered that she used to have to drink it too, or if she’d gotten so used to drinking lemonade and sodas, or whatever else they drank on the mainland. He didn’t really know, and didn’t have the energy to care anymore. She looked healthier, happier too. That’s all he needed to know about her new life.

-------

A few hours later, Mal was collapsing on her bed. She was tired of her father’s antics, tired of having so much pressure to both conform to Auradon’s standards yet stand up to the treatment that everyone on the Isle was given. She hated the decision she proposed, but no one else had come up with literally any other solution to the problem.

She reached over to her nightstand for her water bottle, and finding it empty, she threw it in the trash can that was currently full of tissues. Nightmares hadn’t been kind lately.

She froze as the plastic bottle hit the soft bed of long dried, tear and snot-stained tissues.

Kids on the Isle don’t get clean water, and here you are, contributing to pollution.

She went to the bathroom to wash up for the night.

Remember the cold saltwater that Mother always shoved your face in, eyes open? Remember the taste of lye soap?

She finished quickly, ignoring the accusing voice. Closing the barrier was best for everyone, it made sense. Da- Hades almost escaped today, what could happen next time?

You idiot. There’s always two sides to a story, you of all people know this.

The faces of the kids, trying to hide away as her father threw a fit about going home, being a god…..

The eyes haunted her the most. Dead, void of hope-

Hope you could’ve given them.

Void of anything but despair.

------

The way the sun shone into Kore’s apartment in the mornings should have been considered a crime. It was bright, it was overbearing, and it was way too early.

For Kore, it didn’t really matter anymore. She got up before sunrise every day, and had been for the last sixteen or so years.

In this case, as far back as she could remember.

She made her way to grab her jacket and gloves, ready to start sorting and gathering the ripe fruits and vegetables to be sent to the kitchens, just like every other day.

Hands pausing in tying her shoes, she realized that she’d never had to get new ones.

Strange, every other worker had gone through two pairs every other year.

But it was better if Kore didn’t dwell on it, of course. She wasn’t supposed to, that wasn’t her job.

She didn’t get paid to think about shoes, she got paid to tend the grounds the way nobody else could.

And this year, teach an elective about ‘plants, fae, and nymphs; the natural world of magic’.

It was a small summer class, but it was better than nothing.

Kore hurriedly made her way to the greenhouse, snapping her fingers after the doors closed, and summoned all the fruits and vegetables to the great big basket at the front.

Sorting out some stray carrots that got mixed in with the potatoes, she sang a mindless tune, not knowing how she knew the words.

“And I’ll sing you to sleep, and I’ll see you tomorrow

Bless you with love for the road that you go-”

The door opened. “Kore? Is that you singing in here?”

It was King Adam. “I was just passing by, your voice is lovely by the way. I haven’t heard that one, do you remember where it’s from?”

“I don’t think so,” Kore said, frowning over an oddly bent carrot. It reminded her of some sort of flame…. “I just started singing it out of boredom, I think. Do you think it’s some sort of lullaby I used to know?”

King Adam smiled thinly. “I don’t know if it’s best to dwell on it. I’m sure it’s nothing bad, but we don’t want to take any chances, now do we?”

Kore shook her head.

“Excellent. Now, these look positively splendid, I’m sure tonight’s potato soup will be excellent, all because of you, my dear.”

------

After tending to a sick flowerbed around one in the afternoon, changing into a pair of overalls and a breezy cotton button down (and no shoes) sounded really nice. Kore then made her way to her new classroom, with her new keys. Unlocking the door, she decided that she should probably look over who was in her class so far.

“Hey, you’re Lady Kore, right?”

Kore jumped, not having realized that a few kids had entered the classroom, or that the bell to dismiss the previous period had rung.

“Well I suppose I must be, you can just call me Kore though, I don’t have any titles, your majesty,” she said, nervously. Kore recognized the kid immediately.

Not knowing who Ben Florian was, was absolutely impossible, considering he was the king at this point.

“Oh, you don’t have to say ‘your majesty’, it doesn’t make sense, especially considering you’re the teacher here,” he said sheepishly.

“Alright then, should I call you Ben? I’ve heard you prefer your nickname over your full name.”

Before he could answer, the door banged open again. “Ben, you won’t believe what I just did- oh, I didn’t realize you weren’t the only one here.”

“It’s alright Evie, I was just talking with Kore here. We both don’t like titles, it seems,” he said in a relieved manner.

“It’s not that, it’s that I really don’t have one, Ben.”

He turned back to her. “How do you not have a title, but you’re teaching this class? I thought all the teachers had some sort of speciality and political say over it?”

Kore laughed, as more students followed Evie in and sat at the back of the small room. “It’s complicated, I’ll tell you in a minute.”

As everyone seemed to be settled, she decided to grab the clipboard with the class list on it. “Alright, if you hear your name say here, if I mispronounce it please let me know, and if your name is not called please let me know at the end. Ben Florian, I was just talking to you. Jay of Agrabah?”

“Here.” The voice came from the boy wearing blue and yellow leather, with a red beanie. Good luck working in that, a voice whispered, recognizing that leather and plant magic didn’t always mix well. Kore had no idea how she knew, but she decided that it must have happened before.

“Carlos De Vil?”

“Here.” A boy with a red and black flannel said, quietly. He doesn’t have the gift, how will he do this class? Wait- how do I know this?

“Evie Grimhilde?”

“Present!” What is it with these kids and leather?? At least this one has some shapeshifting magic, Kore thought, absentmindedly recognizing the way Evie’s eyes seemed to shift colors with the light, making her look more innocent. Just the way a student would want to on the first day of a new class.

“Jane Fae?”

“Also present.” Finally, someone who is dressed properly! The light blue shirt would probably get some dirt on it, but the jeans and tennis shoes, all noticeably with no wool, leather, or iron included, would work perfectly. Wool wasn’t necessarily taboo, but unless you were working with animals, it didn’t give any advantages.

“Doug Dwarfson?”

“Here.” Oh god. Dwarfs and plant magic? This’ll be interesting. Ah well, jeans and a casual t-shirt are better than- oh no, iron in the shoes. That’ll be reactive.

“Mal…doesn’t have a last name?”

“Yeah, the system erased it. I’m here, though.”

“Perfect. Alright, that’s everyone, time to head out. Leave your stuff here, it’s the last class of the day for a reason.”

Without another word, she grabbed some materials and books, and marched out of the room, only stopping and looking back when she realized none of them were following.

“Guys? We have to go to a better place for this, you know…”

“Uh, Lady Kore-”

“Just Kore, Ben.”

“Right, my bad. Kore, I thought this was more theoretical, take notes on what’s possible, kind of class?”

Kore snorted. “I don’t mean to laugh, Ben, but if that were the case, they wouldn’t have delayed teaching this for so long. Finding someone with nature based magic, someone willing to teach, and someone who knows plants intimately? Harder to find than you’d think.”

“Haven’t you been here for years though?” Jay interrupted, coming to the door.

“I have. Unfortunately, I don’t have any claim to a title, so they didn’t realize my qualifications until this summer. Shall we proceed?”

Making their way outside, they chatted amongst themselves as Kore was deep in thought as to where to go.

“Alright class, this is Greenhouse 13. It’s mostly empty right now, but it will be where we go from now on, unless I tell you otherwise. If something changes at the last minute, I’ll try and put a note on the door so you know to go to the classroom.”

Unlocking the door, it creaked open with Kore’s push.

“The iron in here is less than it is in the other greenhouses, can anyone tell me why that matters?”

Evie chimed in. “Because iron causes burns and injuries to fairies.”

“Correct. They do prefer to be called the Fae, in some cases, exactly like Jane’s last name. If they refer to themselves as Fae, you need to be very careful. They can twist the truth very easily, and they have lots of stories about them for a reason. However,” she paused, turning on the lights at the back of the greenhouse. “That doesn’t mean you should automatically be suspicious of them or their intentions. Many Fae in this day and age don’t really care about all the things they used to, they generally mind themselves and how they phrase things.”

“What was my mother?”

The class looked at Mal, who had suddenly become very invested. “Before her banishment, or whatever.”

“Maleficent was an interesting case,” Kore bit her lip, not sure how she knew. “She was a fairy, yes, but some of her actions would suggest that she could be classified as Fae. However, she was under……” This was where Kore cursed her lost memory. Only knowing the last sixteen years, when she had been working at the castle was perfectly inconvenient for moments like this.

“Under what?”

“Call it a sort of jurisdiction. Forgive me, my memory isn’t all there, though of course Ben might know?”

All eyes turned to the teenage boy, who was sitting against a wall, ready for the class to start. “Uh, I think you’re right. I can’t remember who though, it’s not common knowledge.” He chuckled. “Honestly I’m surprised that you know, Kore.”

“I think I must have worked on something before working here, something with…...whatever it was. Ah well, shall we get started?”

#royaldescendants #disney descendants #descendants #mal #mal bertha #hades #persephone #hades x persephone #kore #wip

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crowleyellestair · 5 years ago

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More Than Ok- Jaskier Imagine (The Witcher)

My first shot at writing for this lot. I love this silly bard, so I thought I’d try!

If you like it and would want more (because I know there aren’t too many fics for him) please let me know.

Masterlist

Pain was all she had felt. The cut she had was just under her ribs and every heavy breath in was white hot fire. Her vision had been blurry, but not because of tears. She had travelled with Geralt enough to know the feeling of pain. It wasn’t even Geralt that had her coming along, it was his bard. She had felt a draw to him, so she had to come along. Unlike the bard, however, she could fight, and well. So anytime they had taken a job, Y/n was in the thick of it. Just like now, but it wasn’t a job that put her in this mess, nor was she near her boys.

But the draw she felt towards Jaskier was guiding her back to the camp they had set up the night prior. Her feet could barely keep up with the pace she set, and her legs wobbled more than the bard’s confidence. The dense forest wasn’t helping her get to her destination any faster, and since she was dragged so far, she started to wheeze. Y/n started to see the familiar tree pattern, and the hope filling her chest broke her strength.

Y/n fell through the brush, right into the opening of their camp. The two men had been fighting and left a couple hours from now, Jaskier following the brooding man to try and talk it out. Luckily for the gal, they had come back moments before, on edge seeing an empty camp. As she fell, Geralt quickly drew his sword, but upon seeing his injured friend faced down on the ground, he sheathed the weapon. Jaskier was quick to throw himself down by her side. He had grown very fond of the girl in front of him. Like her, he felt a draw. Y/n was like Geralt, but Jaskier believed whole heartedly in destiny. He didn’t want to chalk it up to that, but there was no explaining the raw electricity between them since the first time they met.

“Ugh. I mean, come on.” Jaskier stopped his jingle as he heard the hushed comment. The bard sat in front of the woman at the bar. He noticed her when he first walked in but never caught her face. Her figure never turned to meet anyone at the bar, but she was still pretty judgmental.

“This is the third comment you’ve made. You did think I’d notice, but I did.” The woman in front of him pulled down her hood to show him her shining eyes. A playful smile was evident, and it made his heart jump.

“A major fifth? You’ve been repeating the same four chords in the same major key for the past three minutes. All you’ve done is change the order in which you shift. Surely, you’re more talented than what you’ve shown. If not, and I were the Witcher, I would have dumped you ages ago.” Her smirk never left, even as she brought her pint of ale to her lips. She reveled in the shocked face that graced his beautiful features.

“Y-you know I’m with Geralt? You’ve heard of me?” She let our soft laugh.

“Well, there is only one bard that sings of the man, isn’t there?” Jaskier tried to recover from his starry-eyed gaze. He was quick to clear his throat and ask,

“Would I know you? I’ve heard tales of women with as much beauty as you before, but I have a feeling you’re special.” He smiled when she let out a hearty laugh.

“I doubt it, but I wouldn’t be opposed to you discovering something.” Her tone was joking, but something inside had ached to have him know her.

“Geralt. Geralt!?” He didn’t know what else to say. He started jostling her onto his lap, and looking up to the white-haired man. He felt a rush of water behind his eyes. He kept repeating the name, as it was one he usually yelled in times of trouble. The man in question walked over, looking down to the woman. Her face had blood coursing from her nose and mouth. An eye was swelling shut and her shirt was stained red. He could see the tare where a dagger must have cut through.

“Fuck.”

“W-what do we do? Geralt? Geralt, what do we-?” Geralt placed a hand on the man’s shoulder. Jaskier looked up to meet his eyes, a tear leaving him. He has never been an outstandingly brave man, but this is the first time Geralt had seen him cry. And though he can’t ‘feel emotions’, seeing his best friend like this struck a chord. And he was fairly fond of Y/n.

“I’ve got it.” He hastily walked to Roach, grabbing his bag. He knew that he couldn’t do much, but he could mend enough until they made it to the next town and find a real healer.

‘Hum’s and Ah’s’ start to fall exclusively from the bard. He wouldn’t be able to recall when, but he started to slowly remove the sweat soaked hair from her forehead. At some point, you wouldn’t be able to distinguish sweat from tears as he held her head to his chest.

“Stay. Please stay with me, Y/n.” Geralt had come back with his kit. Geralt silently ask for permission to remove the woman from Jaskier’s arms. He gently turned her so he could get at the wound.

After cleaning it, Geralt left to quickly pack the camp. Jaskier used all of his strength to bring the girl to their shared horse and hoist her up. It’s not that he wasn’t strong, but the adrenaline and fear pushed him to the max, allowing him to do it. He hoped up behind her as they almost always did, and asked,

“Which way?” Geralt pointed in the direction of the closest town.

“I’ll meet you.” A quick nod came from him and he willed the horse forward.

“It’ll be okay. It will, I promise.” Just like usual, he couldn’t stop speaking his mind. “You know, I wrote you a song. You have to stick around to hear it. It’s funny- I wrote it right under your nose.” And he had.

Every day he had his pad out, writing everything that came to mind. Usually, tunes would come to him, but he never forgot what she said to him upon first meeting. He would write down notes and chords over words, scribbling them out and replacing them. It was going to be his masterpiece. ‘Toss A Coin’ was a hit, but this wasn’t for the masses. This was for Y/n, the woman that had his heart completely. They would share her horse every day. Y/n would sit in front most of the time, and Jaskier would use her back as a writing place. They would usually switch come nightfall, Y/n resting against him and using him as a pillow.

Jaskier and Geralt had sat silently for a couple minutes now. They were trying to hypothesize what had happened in the hours they were gone. All they had known was that before they left, Y/n was trying to sleep, and they had cleared the perimeter before that. Geralt had tracked her path back to a body. Someone he recognized from a client a few jobs back. The large, gruff man had made passes at Y/n which she quickly shot down much to his displeasure. He was the client’s bodyguard. Was being emphasized seeing as the man lay dead in the forest now. His head was almost clean off. Almost.

Y/n woke up softly in the cot she had been in for an hour or so. She didn’t recognize her surroundings, but she knew she was safe. It was reassured when she looked down to find Jaskier’s jacket laying over her. It was her favorite one. The light blue color had always reminded her of his eyes. It had only been once or twice, but she had stolen it in the night, claiming it was to help keep her warm. Jaskier had stopped completely when it came to flirting with others when Y/n came into his life. He of course kept his loving nature towards others, and she had always seen that as flirting. She hadn’t known better. Because of this, she had never thought that he would reciprocate her feelings. So, she would make up tales to steal his jacket or hear one more verse.

A ghost of a smile came to her, but fell when she sat up. She lifted the jacket to find her shirt folded upwards, a green herbal treatment spilling out from bandages that wrapped around her torso. She stood, and tried to fold her shirt down, but found that it wasn’t folded, but cut all the way around. She huffed and decided to push her arm through the sleeves and pull the doublet closed. Walking out of the tent, she didn’t have time to look for the men before familiar arms wrapped around her gently. Jaskier’s face found a place in the crook of her neck for a moment before pulling back and looking at her.

“Y/n! My dearest, Y/n! I thought… How do you feel? Do you need some water? Maybe you should lay back down-.” Her hand quickly went to his chest and paused him.

“I’m ok, Jaskier. Thank you.” His eyes found hers quickly. She got lost in them quickly, somewhat forgetting the ache in her ribs.

“Are you sure?” A small smile came to her along with a nod. A hesitant hand cupped her cheek, and Jaskier’s lip got caught between his teeth for a moment. “I was worried.” She absent-mindedly leaned into the hand while saying,

“Well, I guess I had an obligation.” It was evident that Jaskier was confused. “I heard that I had a song to hear.” Y/n could see the blush quickly form and he casted his gaze to his feet.

“I didn’t think you could hear me.”

“I always hear you.” His eyes found hers again. Those blue eyes she so loved that matched the color of his jacket she wore. The eyes that seem to carry her pain away.

“Always? I think that may be impossible. Even if you did try, which, I don’t know why you would.” Her smile grew as she leaned in and placed a kiss on his lips.

“Dandi, I think you know why.” The two turned to Geralt, who chuckled at the name. He noticed the two looking at him.

“What?” A playful smile placed itself on Y/n.

“Did you not know his name is Dandelion?”

“No.” He looked to Jaskier, smiling. Jaskier’s mouth dropped wide open and looked between the two. He let go of Y/n to point at her.

“You little scamp. It is true, but- Geralt, don’t look at me like that. It’s not funny. Y/n, why would you do this?” She took a step back. The pain in her side became evident again and she threw a smile up before turning and going back into the tent.

Y/n could hear Jaskier spout to Geralt before clamoring into the tent. He turned to her and silently but quickly swaggered towards her. She turned in time to meet his lips. He pulled back and smiled.

“I assume that your kiss from before meant that you like me. The feeling is mutual. Though, I was planning on telling you through song, and not when you had your blood everywhere. That was, definitely not apart of that plan.” Her eyebrows rose.

“It’s not the first time I’ve been cut. You had a plan?” He laughed, spun and fell back on the cot.

“Of course I had a plan.” She looked at him stare at the tent ceiling. Y/n let go of the jacket, looking down to her bindings, and let the jacket fall from her shoulders. She started to make quick work of undoing them as she saw red. “It was filled with flowers and stars and music… and… magic. It was going to be perfect.” Y/n wiped of the herbs and picked up the fresh bandages she noticed lying on the table.

Y/n turned, about to ask for help but he was already standing in front of her. He grabbed them from her hand and started unfolding them.

“I thought it was ok, all things considered.”

“But you deserve better than ok.” She chuckled and looked down at his bent form that was binding her up again.

“You are better than ok.”

#jaskier imagine #jaskier x reader #witcher imagine #jaskier #geralt #geralt imagine

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artificialqueens · 4 years ago

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Galactica, Chapter 37 (Group Fic) - TheDane/Veronica

A/N: Click here if you’re looking for previous chapters (or here if you’d rather read on AO3). 💫

Last Chapter: Things looked up for Violet as she finally settled into the new normal of working in design.

This Chapter: One of New York’s most illustrious editors-in-chief turns 40--in style.

***

Shit.

It had been an absolute hell week, Courtney being run ragged all day, everyday. She’d missed more meals than not, barely slept, had gotten used to only using the bathroom when Fame was occupied.

It was really the first time that she and Miss Fame had to interact directly for more than a few words, and if Courtney thought she was high-maintenance before, she had no idea how weird it would get.

On Tuesday, Courtney had been torn a new one for ringing the doorbell when she had dropped off a package at Fame’s house, Fame looking at her like she was absolute vermin.

How was Courtney supposed to have known that it was a deathsin not to just let herself into her boss’ house, Fame explaining to her like she was a retarded toddler that she valued her family life and private time too much to be interrupted, not at all catching the irony of the fact that she was imposing on Courtney’s private time by forcing her to come to her house at 10 pm.

And now, a casual text from Adore that she’d be there around 7:30 reminded her about Bianca’s party and she was absolutely panicking. She had less than an hour to make herself presentable with literally nothing to wear.

She’d meant to ask Ivy about a dress, days ago, and then again yesterday when she was arranging the delivery of Miss Fame’s present to the Marie Claire offices, but it had slipped her mind amongst all the other things she had to remember.

She jumped up and raced into Raja’s suite, a cramp in her side, relieved to find the redhead still at her desk.

“Courtney? Are you okay?” Ivy rose from her seat, a concerned look on her face, ever the empath.

“I just...I forgot…” Courtney tried to catch her breath.

“Okay, take a breath. Whatever it is, it’s fixable. I promise.”

Courtney gulped. “I forgot that I’m supposed to go to this party tonight at the Guggenheim and it’s super fancy and my ride will be here in 40 minutes and I don’t have anything to wear and I don’t even know what the dress code means and I was just wondering if I could borrow something and I promise I’ll have it cleaned and returned by Monday but-”

“Courtney, breathe. Okay?” Ivy took her hand, inhaling deeply and then blowing out dramatically.

Had this job really killed so many of her brain cells that she needed assistance breathing now? Regardless, Courtney followed Ivy’s lead, taking a few deep breaths to slow her racing heart.

“Now,” Ivy began. “What does the dress code say?”

“Creative black tie?”

“Ah. Okay. Follow me.”

Courtney nearly cried with gratitude as Ivy led her into the wardrobe closet.

“Luckily, you’re a sample size, so this shouldn’t be too much of a challenge,” Ivy said. “It’s Bianca Del Rio’s party, right?”

“Yeah,” Courtney said, watching her paw expertly through the racks.

“Are you going for anything in particular?”

“I guess I wanna look…” Courtney racked her brain, unsure of what to say, when the word, “older” slipped from her lips.

Ivy paused, clearly not expecting that answer, and gave Courtney a curious look before nodding.

“I can work with that. Now, Bianca likes bold colors and dramatic silhouettes with clean lines, so I think something like this…” Ivy pulled a stunning, beaded blue cocktail dress out off the rack. “This will look good on you.”

Ivy was truly a gift from god. Not only did they find a dress that fit perfectly (they settled on a short, fire-engine red silk number with a plunging neckline), along with shoes, accessories, and a glamorous faux-fur wrap, but she even stayed to help Courtney with her hair and makeup, giving her a chic updo and dramatic winged liner.

“Ivy, honestly, if you ever need anything. Someone to cover your desk...a kidney...whatever...you know who to ask.”

“Good to know.” Ivy laughed, checking her makeup one more time, adding a little more glimmering highlighter to her cheekbones, and then proclaiming, “Alright, I think you’re done.”

“Thank you so much,” Courtney said again, pulling out her phone. She hadn’t heard from Adore in awhile, and wondered if she was stuck in traffic or something. She seriously hoped that she hadn’t rushed like crazy, inconveniencing Ivy and nearly giving herself an ulcer worrying, just to sit around waiting for an hour.

COURTNEY: ETA?

ADORE: Soon, I think. I’m on my way to Pearl’s, then we’ll pick you up. Do you want a gyro?

COURTNEY: I’M A VEGAN

ADORE: Oh yeah. Gross. I’ll text you when we’re close.

***

“Bianca! Darling!” Fame reached out her arms to pull Bianca in for a tight embrace. “Happy Birthday!”

She and Patrick had just arrived at the stunning event space a few minutes earlier, and were immediately whisked off to a VIP area with a private bar, where Raja and Raven were already relaxing on sofas, Sutan and Violet standing at the bar chatting with Detox and Jujubee.

It was perfect, removed enough from the chaos of the dance floor, but with a perfect view over the railing. And the speed with which Bianca had arrived to greet her told her that she’s given special instructions for the staff to alert her to Fame’s presence--exactly the kind of preferential treatment that Fame expected.

“Thanks, blondie,” Bianca grinned, “You look beautiful.”

“Thank you,” Fame smiled widely, fluttering her lashes. “So do you. I love this dress!”

“Yeah, your tits look great!” Raja chimed in.

Bianca was wearing a sinfully tight black bandage dress, the neckline showing off her breasts and glowing skin, the hem just above her knees, her legs one of Bianca’s best assets.

“You can barely see that you’re turning 40.” Fame grinned, which earned her a pinch from Bianca, the other still keeping her in her arms.

“Shush.”

“Please,” Fame squeezed Bianca’s forearm, “So, tell me the truth, do you like the ring?”

Bianca held up her hand, where it glittered on her index finger.

Yesterday, Fame had had Bianca’s birthday present delivered to her office at the exact time of her birth, 3:57 pm. Fame knew Bianca liked her statement pieces, so she had custom ordered a cocktail ring, but not just any cocktail ring. Instead of the usual single band, a stone in the middle, Fame had gone for a three part twist in gold, sparkling garnets adorning it.

“It’s perfect, I love it,” Bianca said.

“Wonderful!” Fame clasped her hands together. “You’re impossible to shop for.”

“No I’m not! I love stuff,” Bianca countered. “Plus, you know...I’ll never say no to a present that’s unavailable in stores…”

She grinned wickedly, dimples deep, hand drifting down to Fame’s ass. Fame swatted it away with a scolding look.

“Really, Bianca.”

“What, it’s my birthday!” Bianca said. “You gotta give me something.”

“Fine, a tiny something,” Fame laughed, leaning in and giving her a sweet kiss on the lips, then following up with a light smack to her cheek.

“That’s not where I like being spanked,” Bianca said.

“Oh my god, you’re impossible!” Fame exclaimed, breaking away and stepping over to the bar while Bianca laughed gleefully behind her. “Now come on, tell me about your presents.”

***

“And a drink for the lady.” Sutan smiled as he handed Violet a glass, his date taking it with a sweet smile and a thank you, Sutan putting his arm back around her waist as they walked around.

He had picked Violet up at her apartment, his heart almost skipping a beat as she had pushed the double doors open and walked down the steps, her dress of the night absolutely stunning, the back open and taunting with it’s promise of bare impossibly soft skin.

“So,” Sutan rubbed his thumb up and down, gently caressing Violet’s back, “are you having fun?”

Sutan was happy that she was there, enjoyed spending time with her, but as he got to know her more and more, he slowly realized how little she actually enjoyed big crowds.

“Yes.”

“Okay.” Sutan bit his lip, hiding a smile at Violet’s quick but short reply.

***

Alaska giggled delightedly, letting Jinkx twirl her on the dance floor. If you’d told Alaska a few years ago that she’d have a friend who she could have this much fun with sober, she’d have laughed in your face. But, even though Jinkx didn’t mind it, Alaska really didn’t enjoy drinking around her. So when they were together, Alaska felt like it was the least she could do to hold off on the booze. What she did enjoy was being with her, sober or not, looking into her sparkling brown eyes as they tripped all over their feet.

“For a Broadway star, you’re really uncoordinated,” Alaska laughed, and Jinkx pretended to be offended, then giggled.

“It’s hard to be mad when you call me a Broadway star.”

“Well, you are!” Alaska said, wrapping her arms around Jinkx’s neck and gazing at her happily. She loved these moments, just the two of them having the time of their lives, dancing and laughing and ignoring every other person in the room. They always had fun, but tonight, Jinkx seemed to have an extra bounce in her step, radiating a kind of joy, and it made Alaska feel so grateful to be around her.

“Thanks Lasky...you’re the best.”

They whirled and stumbled around the dance floor some more, until they were both breathless and needed a break.

“What are we feeling like tonight? Ginger ale? Cranberry and soda?” Alaska asked.

“You choose,” Jinkx said, clinging to her arm.

Alaska ordered a couple of drinks for them and then turned back to Jinkx, who was looking at her with the cutest little dreamy half-smile. She couldn’t help the tingling rush that went down her spine as she lowered her eyes and asked, “So...what’s going on with you tonight?”

“What do you mean?” Jinkx asked, eyes widening innocently.

“I mean...you’re just very...I don’t know...” A smile tugged at Alaska’s lips. “...twinkly tonight.”

“Well...I wasn’t gonna say anything because...it’s kind of silly, but,” she lowered her voice, eyes shining. “I ran into her again. Ivy.”

Alaska felt her whole chest deflate, forcing a smile as Jinkx continued.

“At Zabar’s! It’s like the universe is just conspiring to help us get together, you know?” Jinkx giggled happily.

A lump rose in Alaska’s throat and she nodded, using all her willpower to keep the smile painted across her face. “Oh, wow. That’s...that’s cool. Did you talk?”

“Yes. You’d be so proud of me, I even got her number!”

“Wow. Awesome!” Alaska felt like she was going to throw up, shifting her gaze to the bartender, grateful for the distraction as he slid two ginger ales across the bar. She couldn’t help wishing that half the glass was Jack Daniels. She handed one of them to Jinkx and took her own. It tasted just dust.

“Yeah, but she was still a bit formal, you know? I think I need to see her in a more relaxed setting. Do you think she likes opera? Maybe I can ask her to Madame Butterfly?” Jinkx chattered, away, oblivious to Alaska’s shift in mood.

“You really think the Met is a relaxed setting?”

Jinkx threw back her head and laughed, squeezing Alaska’s arm. “Omigod, you’re right. I’m such a dingbat. What would I do without you, Lasky?”

“I don’t know…” Alaska stirred her drink.

“What do you think she likes?”

“Uh, I’m really not sure,” Alaska said. And it was true. She knew that Ivy was sweet, and professional, and did her job with a kind of calm efficiency. But she didn’t know her very well on a personal level, their professional paths rarely crossing directly.

“Hmm, maybe you can ask around? If that wouldn’t be too weird?” Jinkx looked so hopeful and earnest that Alaska couldn’t help but smile for real in spite of herself, immediately agreeing to help her on this quest to capture Ivy’s heart.

“Of course. I’ll ask around.”

Jinkx sighed happily, leaning on Alaska’s shoulder, eyes falling closed for a moment. “You really are my favorite person, Lask.”

“Back atcha, Jinxky.”

***

Adore walked into Bianca’s party, feeling like a million bucks. Everyone that was anyone and even some who were nothing were there, and Adore knew she looked better than all of them with her purple hair, her pouty red lips, her short black leather dress, fishnets, and best of all… Pearl, the sexiest fucking goddess she’d ever seen in her life at her side.

She hung on Pearl’s arm, enjoying the jealous looks she got; knowing that everyone at the party wanted to be in her place. She even got a nasty look from some models, who were clearly all in love with her girl, but Adore didn’t care.

Pearl was here with her and only her. Pearl glanced at her every few seconds with a smug grin on her face, like the cat that just ate the canary. Well, if the canary was Adore’s pussy. Which would mean the cat was… Well whatever, Adore wasn’t an English scholar. She was in love.

The only thing that sucked was that Courtney looked so fucking miserable. They’d been a little late picking her up, due to getting, well, sidetracked for a while at Pearl’s, and then stopping for food. She thought that Courtney would be a bit more understanding, but she’d barely spoken two words in the car, even Pearl picking up on her obvious anger.

And now, even though she was at the coolest party in Manhattan, she didn’t look happy at all. Adore caught her eye, offering a hopeful smile, but received only a resigned nod in return. She reached out to touch her hand.

“Have I told you how gorgeous you look?” Adore asked, hoping that a compliment and a charming grin would be enough to lighten her mood.

“You think?” Courtney asked, adjusting one of her straps nervously. “I don’t look out of place?”

“Bitch, you put all these other girls to shame,” Adore promised, and was rewarded, finally, with a pleased smile from Courtney.

“Thanks.”

“Pearl!”

Adore looked over at the group of giggling socialites who were approaching them, only slightly annoyed when they swept her girlfriend up. She pouted as Pearl dropped her hand, but smiled again when she doubled back to whisper into her ear, “I’m gonna try and squeeze some gossip out of these hoes, and then I’ll catch up with you later.”

“Okay, but don’t be too long!” Adore pulled her in, branding her cheek with a dark red kiss before taking Courtney’s arm and sauntering away, pleased with herself. She scanned the party, looking for her sister and finally spotting her holding court near the bar. She cupped her hands over her mouth to shout through the crowd. “Bianca! Happy birthday, you ancient whore!”

Bianca turned towards her sister’s voice, barking out, “You’re late!”

“Whaddaya mean, we’re right on time for a grand entrance!” Adore countered, laughing.

“Well-” Bianca stopped, completely losing her train of thought when her eyes landed on Courtney. She was wearing a short red dress, the first time Bianca has seen her in a color other than pastels, and she looked absolutely fucking stunning--legs a mile long, one blonde curl falling into her eyes. Damn.

“You look cute, B. Very boobalicious,” Adore said, giving her a hug. “Not bad for an old lady.”

“Yeah, thank you,” Bianca said, eyes still locked on Courtney. “Hi, Courtney.”

“Hi. Happy birthday,” Courtney said, giving her a sweet smile. “Sorry we’re late.”

“Oh, that’s alright,” Bianca told her. “But here, uh...this’ll help you catch up.”

She took a couple of the signature drinks from a passing tray and handed them over. Adore immediately began to suck hers down, but Courtney hesitated.

“Um, what’s in this?”

“Courtney’s afraid of tequila. It makes her messy, right bae?” Adore bumped her hip.

“Something like that.”

“It’s called a Madras. Vodka, orange juice and cranberry. No tequila, but it will fuck you up. Be warned,” Bianca said with a wink.

“Well...cheers,” Courtney said, giving an adorable little laugh.

“Cheers.” Bianca took a sip of her own drink, then leaned in closer. “You look amazing, by the way.”

“Yeah?” Courtney’s eyes shone, her fingers twirling that stray lock of hair.

“Yeah.” Bianca tried unsuccessfully to wipe the stupid grin off her face, and instead broke the tension with, “I’m shocked that someone who’s friends with my sister has such good taste.”

“Hey!” Adore exclaimed.

“Don’t be too impressed. It’s a loaner,” Courtney replied drily, causing Bianca to throw back her head and laugh.

“Fair enough.” She downed the rest of her drink, waving off a couple of acquaintances who were trying to get her attention.

“Be right back,” Adore said, scampering away towards Pearl, of course jumping the second the blonde so much as crooked a little finger.

Courtney reached out for her, but she was already gone. She sighed slightly, looking a little bit dejected, and Bianca cleared her throat.

“So listen, I heard through the grapevine that you’re looking for a way to avoid your, uh, Galactica employers while you’re here?”

Courtney looked up, startled. She seemed shocked that Bianca was still talking to her, and she stammered uncomfortably. “Oh. Yeah, no, I just-”

“Listen, it’s understandable, you wanna have a good time. Can’t do that while your boss is breathing down your neck, right?” Bianca flashed her dimples.

“Well...yeah,” Courtney admitted, laughing a little.

Bianca stepped closer, slipping an arm around her shoulders and lowering her voice conspiratorially. “Fame and Raja are well contained, don’t worry. I made a VIP section since those two need a velvet rope to feel like they’re having a good time.”

Courtney giggled. “Like a rich person playpen?”

“It’s a prison of their own making,” Bianca affirmed, giving her a wink. “Trust me, they’re looking down on everyone the way they prefer, and they ain’t leaving.”

“Well...thank you.” Courtney bit her lip. It was hard to tell in this light, but it looked like a slight blush had crept into her cheeks, and Bianca found herself even more enamored.

“Anytime.”

A second later, she felt someone tap on her arm: one of the Marie-Claire board members, who she sadly couldn’t ignore.

“Sorry, I have go...do hostess shit,” Bianca said, regret flooding her chest, and Courtney nodded.

“Of course.”

She turned towards the middle-aged man and his young wife, saying her cursory hellos and giving air kisses, making small talk with them both. As soon as she could manage, though, she spared a glance back at Courtney.

The plan, from the moment Adore told her that Courtney was coming, had been to seduce this smoking hot friend of her sister’s. And she figured that the “rough break-up” that Adore’d reported would make it a sure thing. An easy and fun little fling--a birthday present to herself.

But now, something about the wistful, faraway expression on her delicate face as she smoothed down her skirt made her look vulnerable, in a way that gave Bianca pause. As stunning as she was--and fuck, she was an absolute knock-out--it didn’t make Bianca want to seduce her. Instead, it made her want to protect her. Ugh, why did her fucking conscience have rear its ugly head tonight, on her birthday of all nights?

“Thank you so much. Be sure to check out the raw bar!” she said, finally escaping and ready to head back to Courtney--but Adore beat her to it.

She watched as her sister came bounding up, Pearl in tow, and grabbed Courtney’s hands to pull her onto the dance floor.

Well, good. She should have a good time. Lord knows, anyone who worked for Fame deserved to blow off some steam. Bianca snatched another drink from a passing tray, trying to redirect her attention to the Welsh model who’d been giving her bedroom eyes all night.

***

Violet was having a surprisingly good time, taking small sips of her champagne. She had hurried home from work, almost ready when Sutan had texted that he was downstairs, the smile on Sutan’s face when he had seen her dress almost, almost, almost worth it’s price tag.

She had never been to an event of this size without having to worry if catering ran out of ice, or if she’d need to get taxis for whoever got way too drunk. It was nice to just stand by Sutan’s side, nice to be allowed to just be, without having to entertain or constantly think about everything that could go wrong.

“Ah, yes, of course.” Sutan smiled, his thumb rubbing up and down the small of Violet’s back. He was talking to one of the models from Elite, Violet vaguely recognizing her from some of the headshots she had presented to Fame for the fall collection. “I’ll be sure to tell Marcel about that.”

“Excuse me,” Violet turned, her eyes falling on a man with a camera, the card around his neck instantly telling her that he was from OK! magazine. “I was wondering if I could take a few pictures?”

“Oh,” Violet didn’t know what to do, her stomach instantly tightening.

“Sure,” Sutan grinned, turning towards the camera. “Right girls?”

“I-” Violet didn’t want to be in the picture, didn’t want someone she didn’t know documenting where she was, didn’t want to risk it ending up online. “I don’t-”

“Oh of course,” Sutan took her glass, handing it off to someone. “There we go.”

“Sutan”

“Come here,” Sutan put an arm around the model, posing both of them.

“Please-” Violet could feel Sutan’s hand on her hip, holding her tight, keeping her trapped, her throat closing up.

“Should we smile?”

“No,” The photographer looked out from behind his camera, “just be natural.”

Violet pushed away, forcing Sutan to let her go as the camera went off. She didn’t hear Sutan say her name, a quick flicker of a question on his face, didn’t see him smile apologetically to the photographer and pose with the model, didn’t notice any of it as she made her way outside, escaping the only thing she could think of.

***

Juju strolled through the crowd with Raven. She appreciated the whole VIP setup as much as anyone, but this was a massive party, and they’d decided to come spend a little time where the action was, maybe dance a bit -at least as much as her poor pregnant body would allow. They were stopped by a group of models, Raven proudly showing off her engagement ring and letting the other girls fawn all over her.

Juju put up with the schmoozing for a couple of minutes--after all, those girls were potential clients, until she spotted Bianca nearby and politely excused herself from the group, knowing that Raven would be perfectly content with her little fan club.

Bianca was chatting up some sweet young thing (typical), and Juju couldn’t resist messing with her a little. She wrapped her arms around Bianca’s waist from behind, asking in a low, husky voice, “Tell me I’m your favorite, Daddy.”

It was a joke between the two of them, something that had started years ago when Juju and Detox were first dating. They’d shown up at brunch one morning in the middle of a heated argument about whether it was appropriate for her to call him “Daddy” during sex--ironically, only a few months before she got preganant with their first child. It wasn’t a kink thing, exactly, it was just that she thought it was funny, and especially so when she saw his freaked out reaction. The group agreed that right or wrong, if it bothered him then she probably shouldn’t say it. But Bianca, ever the good sport, had pulled the smaller woman into her lap and declared that if she really needed to call someone Daddy, she was ‘willing to take one for the team.’

Juju accompanied her breathy greeting by biting gently on Bianca’s ear, adding, “Pwease?”

Bianca burst out laughing, pulling her close and introducing her to a very confused looking girl. “Tayce, you must know my friend Juju Sanderson. The brilliant hairstylist who owns Jujubee’s downtown?”

“Oh, yeah! It’s an honor!” Tayce said, her brown eyes lighting up as a dazzling smile spread across her face. “I’ve been trying to get an appointment with you, but you’re booked up for months!”

Juju had to bite back her laugh when she heard Tayce speak--Bianca always was a sucker for an accent.

“Well, play your luck with Daddy here, and you might jump the queue,” Juju said with a wink.

“Among other benefits,” Bianca cackled. “You know you’re the only one who I’d let get away with that Daddy shit, right?”

“Yes, thank you. You’re a lot more fun than my husband.”

“In so many ways,” Bianca said, turning to Tayce and giving her a playful smirk.

***

Violet took a deep breath, letting it out through her teeth as she could finally feel her heart slow down, though the knot in her stomach wasn’t going away.

She knew she couldn’t help it, but it was impossible not to feel an inkling of shame travel up her spine, the feeling that she was being ridiculous impossible to push down.

Sutan hadn’t meant anything by it, taking photos a part of his life, being in the public eye something that simply came natural for him.

Violet took a last breath, pushing away from the wall she had been leaning against to go back to the party, hoping that Sutan hadn’t noticed how strange she was acting.

It wasn’t that Violet liked acting this way, that she wanted to feel the panic rising in her body whenever she saw a camera in a stranger's hand, but she couldn’t help it.

She was an adult now, she had her own life, her own money and even her own job and her own apartment, but it was hard not to hide, impossible not to react to the instinctive fear that welled up in her at the risk of being found.

Violet walked back inside, the noise and the amount of people feeling so much more overwhelming when she wasn’t at Sutan’s side. She made her way through the crowd, easily spotting both Fame and Pearl, avoiding both of them.

She was starting to think Sutan had left, Raja nowhere to be found either, when she saw him sitting at a table, surrounded by models. He was laughing loudly, his arm around one of the girls, several of the models’ phones taking pictures of everything that was happening.

Violet’s stomach did a flip, the panic from earlier rushing through her body. She couldn’t go over there, couldn’t be a part of that part of Sutan’s world, so instead, Violet did what she always did.

Turned around, and walked away.

***

[Raja?] Sutan put a hand on Raja’s hip, turning her around. Sutan had been sitting with a group of models, doing shots and having fun right up until one of them had touched his legs under the table, and he had abandoned ship instantly.

[Have you seen Violet?]

He hadn’t seen her in over an hour, and while Sutan was more than sure that Violet could take care of herself, he had started to worry.

[Sutan!] Raja grinned, stepping into his space, looping her arms around his neck. [Hello brother dear.]

[Hello.] Sutan smiled, once again reminded of how much he truly loved Raja. She was tipsy, her eyes swimming slightly, which was probably why she hadn’t responded to his question. [Have you seen Violet?]

[Violet?] Raja tilted her head, her hand fiddling with the hairs at the nape of his neck. [No?]

[Shit.] Sutan bit his lip, his hands resting on Raja’s hips.

[Maybe she just left?] Raja smiled, running her fingers through his hair. [There’s no need to worry.]

[Maybe...]

[She can handle herself.]

[Mmmh.] Sutan knew that Raja was probably right, but it still felt weird that VIolet hadn’t said goodbye, and if he was honest, he was disappointed that they wouldn’t be going home together at the end of the night. [I’ll send her a text.]

Sutan was just about to reach into his pocket, was just about to get his phone out, when he saw a photographer to his left, just outside the VIP section. The paparazzi always loved to get photos of him and Raja together, and while he was sure Raja hadn’t noticed, he made sure to twist her slightly to the left, getting her good side as he smiled at the camera.

***

“Every guy here is drooling over you, bae,” Adore giggled, spinning Courtney on the dance floor before accepting another drink from Pearl.

“Not just the guys,” Pearl added with a wink.

Courtney laughed. In spite of her hesitation in tagging along, she’d been having a pretty good time. The attention was fun, of course, but Courtney’d barely noticed the alleged guys drooling over her. She couldn’t help thinking about the way she’d felt when Bianca put that arm around her, the way her brown eyes had sparkled in the dim light. The way goosebumps prickled her skin as Bianca’s fingers grazed her shoulder.

Her gaze kept being pulled in Bianca’s direction. Eyes drifting over her enticing curves in that tight dress. And occasionally, to her absolute thrill, Bianca would be looking back at her. Every time their eyes met, her stomach flipped around like crazy.

It was silly, she knew that. She knew that Bianca was only being nice to her because she was Adore’s friend. A nice kid. That it didn’t mean anything deep. This was, after all, a woman who dated supermodels and Oscar winners. Like the gorgeous girl by her side most of the evening, who had a face that Courtney instantly recognized from last month’s British Vogue cover.

Still.

The reality of the situation didn’t stop her from pretending, even just to herself, even just for the night, that maybe there was something there, that warranted all these confusing feelings swirling around inside her like a tornado.

And later, when they were saying goodbye, she allowed herself to enjoy the way Bianca’s palm pressed to the small of her back. She even let her lips linger for a few moments on Bianca’s warm cheek, kissing her goodnight.

***

SUTAN: Did you leave?

[MISSED CALL]

SUTAN: The party is still going.

SUTAN: Did you get home safe?

[MISSED CALL]

SUTAN: I can’t find you.

[MISSED CALL]

SUTAN: Violet??

VIOLET: I’m fine.

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willowistic22 · 4 years ago

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Please... (Redfinch)

Albert has been thrown to the refuge before. It was an ugly story but at least it prepared him from what was coming when he got thrown in again. But Finch? This was his first time learning on his own how relentless Snyder is...

Word count: 3302

Part : [1 this] - (if ppl like this i’ll make more parts)

Warnings: Blood, abuse, torture, knife cuts, restraints, mentions of death, beatings, cussing (no surprise there lol), in short this is a whump fic. I probably missed some warnings and if I did please let me know!

A/N: Hello, yes, I am well aware that I’ve vanished from my fanfic writing spree. It’s gonna be more common now because school is more hectic online than irl. Anyways, i came up with this idea when I was in the middle of having writers block from writing another wip and ended up finishing this one whoops. I also like ignored the remainder of requests from my inbox not bcs i don’t want to do them but i haven’t gotten the time. Especially since this is October and my school always have special plans on October so I’m sorry. But, hey I got a fic out! ENJOY! (might make this a three part thing if you guys want idk)

[ @jaelynn-is-slightly-confused i did it.......................... ]

The first time he got sent to this hellspace was years ago, and fortunately for Albert it only lasted for four days before he was able to bust out. Odd how he thought something would be different. He expected the treatment would stay the same, no surprise there. The bounded limbs, the painful souvenirs smeared all over his body, being left to fend for your own life, none of this was new. And yet, Al thought maybe something physical about this awful settlement would be different. Maybe painting the walls a different color? Cleaning the little drops of blood on the floor?

A funny idea to be thinking about in this kind of situation. But he needed something to calm him down. Something to distract him from the pain all over his body. The bruises from punches, the strangling feeling made by a strong pair of hands ghosting his neck, the cuts from a knife marking his skin, the pain in his wrists while they’re tightly bound to each other with a rope, basically everything that’s been given to him the minute he arrived here.

An itch in his throat triggered him to go on a coughing fit. It made him feel every inch of pain all over his torso as he reached for that itch. He ends up opening his eyes after spending a long time closing them.

His senses are now hyper focused on everything around him. Albert can feel the coarse cement wall through the back of his shirt. It’s the only thing making him sit up properly while he spreads his legs out on the dirty floor, just as equally coarse as the wall. He can see streaks of lights coming from the tiny windows on the wall he’s leaning onto. The only light source provided for this basement.

There isn’t anything in here. Most of the kids held in the refuge would stay up stairs. Rooms provided with rickety bunks where at least six kids slept all at once. Big scary men put on guard on every corner with batons, ready to strike when a kid acted up. You only get sent down to the basement, or what most kids would say the ‘torture chamber’, when the ungoldy amount of scars already given to you haven’t made you obey anything they say. And Albert has been a huge pain in the ass.

The sound of the heavy metal door opening bounces on the walls, pulling Albert’s consciousness away from the distraction forming in his head as he was about to close his eyes for another rest. Slow footsteps climbing down the wooden stairs echoes throughout the room. A weak light slowly gets stronger as the footsteps get louder in Al’s ears.

The sound of the footsteps against the wooden stairs turn into strong assertive steps on the concrete floor. Al weakly darts his eyes up at the big man, bringing a candle in one hand and a lit cigarette hanging loosely in his mouth.

“Good to see you again, Al!” Snyder exclaimed after huffing out a cloud of smoke, a devilish grin painting his face.

“Wish I could say the same to you” Albert voiced as best as he could, hoarse but Snyder could hear the hatred behind it.

The beaten up redhead proceeds to spit at his captor’s shoes with a glare. In return, Snyder chuckles out whilst shaking his head.

“You think that’s funny?” Snyder challenged.

“Actually, I do!”

In the matter of seconds, Snyder gets closer and viciously grabs Albert by the neck with a tight grip. He holds him up with one hand on the neck, high with his back up against the wall.

Despite his throat being seconds away from being totally crushed, he was able to hold up his glare. The pain is unimaginable, but his smile remains. Albert is not giving in to obeying this man in any way. Not even the fear he’s trying to assert on him.

“Fearless. I admire that” Snyder notes, curiously tilting his head as he examines the details of his face.

“Thanks. My parents are pretty proud of that too” Albert needed some effort to get the words out, but thought it was definitely worth the pain to see the displeased look in Snyder.

“And very stubborn...”

They lock their eyes in a glare, none of them showing any sign of turning away.

“I’ll have to fix that attitude…” Snyder exclaimed. He turns towards the stairs leading upstairs and shouts, “Bring ‘em in”

The door opened, followed by a sound of two men viciously telling someone to obey their orders. Not a moment later, a tumbling noise reveals a weak body being pushed down the stairs and onto the concrete floor with a loud thud. Their back was facing Al, so he didn’t know who that was.

But Al noticed the newsboy cap, lying on the floor not far from the figure. It was thrown away from their head when they fell down the stairs. The cap looks eerily familiar. God, did Albert hope it wasn’t who he thinks it is…

The two men from earlier came down. One uses his feet to flip over the person they’ve just thrown down here, along with the bound wrists with the same rope as Al dropping in front of their chest. With the minimal light provided by the little windows and now the presence of Snyder’s candle, Albert can tell who they’ve just thrown in.

His smirk slowly drops at the sight of the weak boy. His hazel eyes no longer glaring at his captor, but staring helplessly at the body lying on the floor. Blond hair no longer electrified as it used to. Al’s favorite face to cradle no longer looks the same as before. Eyes still clenched shut. Snyder smirks, seeing his tactic has shown some progress. And he barely did anything yet.

“Not so funny now, huh?” Snyder taunted under his breath, only Albert was able to hear it, “Should’ve brought the boy into the mix sooner…”

Snyder loosens his grip around Al’s neck, but he’s soon held up once again by two of Snyder’s henchmen. One holds down his shoulders, pinning him up against the wall, and another by the chest and stomach.

Snyder makes his way to the boy on the ground with lazy steps. Albert can see him reaching for something under his jacket. It was soon revealed to be a knife once he playfully glides it in the air while kneeling down to the boy. He throws away his burnt out cigarette and places the candle on the floor, not far from the helpless body. He grabs the boy’s chin to make him look up with his free hand, smiling like the devil when he hears the boy whimpering from his touch.

“I’m not one to like guys… but this one’s clearly a looker, don’t you think?” Snyder examines the face in his hand.

Albert’s temper was acting up, but his struggles to break free from the strong grip was instantly met with punches to the stomach. The bruises from earlier makes the pain hurt even more. With a silent raise of two fingers, Snyder made the two henchmen stop the punching. It gives Albert some time to settle in with the pain.

Another signal from Snyder, and the henchmen drops Al on the floor and leaves the basement to the three. Albert’s head was up against the concrete floor, taking in the cold and dusty texture.

He’s on the same eye level as the boy. A desperate gaze towards the innocent face now full of blood, water, dust, and dirt all smudged together on his skin. Al could see more details, maybe bruises or cuts covered up by the smudges.

“Come on now, Finch! You’re invited to the party!” Snyder said to the boy, bringing his face right to his own. It forces him to slightly sit up, whimpering along as his body is getting forced under all that pain, “The least you could do is appreciate the invitation”

It was the order to open his eyes. God knows what Snyder would do if he didn’t. The action reveals a pair of Albert’s favorite blue eyes, but fear clouds it along with the redness caused from what he assumes to be a lot of crying.

Finch never loses his composure. He’s that cool and mysterious guy everyone is intrigued by. Either have a cool smirk or a neutral quiet face at all times. He doesn’t express his feelings freely, so it keeps people guessing. But those tear streaks, shaky limbs, pressed down sobs in his throat, that wasn’t usual. Albert may have seen him vulnerable, but this wasn’t the romantic and soft side of him that he’s used to. This was genuine fear.

“I know you’re not one to follow orders from me…” Snyder started, guiding Finch to sit up properly. His unbalanced head moves along with the dazing motion in his mind. In a split second, the sound of a slap echoes through the room. Finch falling helplessly the moment his huge hand connects to his cheek. With a little yelp from the pain, he’s back on the ground, desperately holding back his sobs and scrunching his eyes shut.

“... But I’m sure we could… make some changes to that” Snyder continued, turning his head around to face Albert.

By now, Al found the little strength to prop himself up to sit up against the wall again. He snarls, pushing Snyder to smile to his own amusement.

“I see progress being made!” He exclaimed with an unsettling grin after noting his silence. He turns back to face Finch, “Let’s see how much of that we can get for today’s session…”

Snyder drags Finch by the ropes that ties his arms together up till it can reach the rusty old hook attached to the ceiling. He gasps at the pain in his wrists carrying his entire weight up on the hook, all the pain being stretched out. The tip of his toes grazed the floor and his head hung low.

The same knife from earlier makes its way to press on Finch’s chest. Albert had only realized his shirt was unbuttoned just now and takes in all the horrifying scars. It ranges from faint purples and blues and very clear red and pink lines, all of which are smeared across his body. The cold blade hasn’t cut through his skin, but it made Finch’s senses hyper focused. Lungs working at full force, loud breathing and rapid chest movements. He thought he was just playing tricks, making him think he’s seconds away from cutting some skin.

When he least expected it, the blade drew another line just below his collar bone. It causes the boy to let out a half suppressed yelp. Snyder dragged the knife so slow, Finch could feel every bit of the pain.

“Wait! Stop!” Albert could only yell from a distance.

“Thought we’ve managed to get you to shut up...” Snyder turns his head a little to see Albert behind his shoulder. He digs the blade an inch deeper into Finch’s skin, causing a little cry to finally escape his lips but soon was suppressed once again.

“He has nothin’ to do with this!”

Albert shifts a bit loudly. It instantly alerts Snyder, causing him to fully turn his head towards him with a glare.

“Try getting any closer, and I’ll slit his throat open right now!” Snyder growled, firmly holding the blade against the weak throat. It made Finch pull his head up to avoid getting cut, inevitably forcing his eyes to open to stay cautious around it.

Albert locks his eyes in Finch’s desperate gaze back at him. A silent cry for help, which only made Al furious because he can’t do anything. He wants to wipe his tears away, clean his face, and just hold him tight against his chest. Get the two back to the lodge where their friends are waiting. Everything in his power to get Finch away from any more torture.

Snyder smiled at Albert’s compliance, forcibly settling his body back on the wall.

“Atta, boy,” He said, turning his head back to face Finch. He grabs a fistful of blonde curls and whispers, “See? Told’ja he’d listen to you”

Snyder pulls the knife out of his flesh. Finch gasps at the pain, red blood dripping down his body. His breath becomes fast and uncontrollable once again. And he didn’t stop there. Punches being thrown, more knife cuts, and a hand gripping firmly around his neck while he growls words that shapes nightmares. The chest starts to add in more color to it. Streaks of blood dripped down his slightly toned body. Each of those marks burns deeply into him. With every swing from the fist, Finch uses all his energy to suppress his voice despite the unimaginable pain it emits.

Finch has been in a fight before. He knows what it feels like getting punched over and over again. But this? This is something new. He’s in a position where he can’t do anything. And god is he scared for his life. Albert won’t blame him. After a few dozen punches, his lover fell limp. Hanging helplessly on the hook and taking all the new cuts and bruises like he deserves it. His heart skipped a beat, thinking that he actually might’ve given up.

“Can’t you tell he’s had enough of it?” Albert shouted, helplessly watching his lover get tortured to near death.

Snyder continues to use Finch as a punching bag, ignoring his near silent cries and Albert’s pleas to stop.

“What does it have to do with ‘im?!”

A hook to the chin this time.

“You fucking bastard! You’ll kill him!”

Finch couldn’t hold his crying anymore, despite being told to before he got thrown in the basement. Snyder draws out the knife again upon hearing all the sobs escape his cut lips.

“Snyder, please!” Albert’s voice shakes.

He stops his arm and turns to face Albert, dropping his hand with the knife to his side. Albert can be seen on the verge of tears, and he won’t deny it to anyone. Snyder’s lips fell open with wonderment.

“I get the point already. You don’t have to keep hurting him...” Albert explained even further, desperation lacing his words. Eyes slowly welling up with water, “Please…”

Snyder scoffs, twisting his lips into the devil's satisfied smile, “Say that again”

He just wants to see Albert complying to him. Hear him beg to stop the injustice torture. Maybe as far as to hear him cry.

“Please… Let him go...” breathlessly, Albert begged. He could feel a drop of water from one of his eyes threatening to fall down his cheek.

Snyder approaches Albert, kneeling down in front of him. He uses the knife from earlier, still full of Finch’s blood dripping off the blade, to tilt Albert’s chin upwards. He glares at Snyder once their eyes meet, but it only makes the man smirk with delight.

“I see you’ve come to your senses”

Hopefully that meant he’d stop and let Finch back upstairs. But this is Snyder, he’s not going to let one of his detained kids off for free.

“But I don’t think you’re... ‘docile’ enough,” Snyder added.

He puts away the knife, letting Albert breathe for a moment. But that breath was stolen from him as Snyder proceeds to slap his cheek, so hard the noise echoes throughout the room. He falls to the ground, adding more to the pain he’s feeling. If his hands weren’t tied up, he would’ve already punched the crap out of that monster.

“You sound adorable when you beg, y’know?” Snyder said standing up to walk back to Finch.

Albert huffs out breaths full of anger, watching him approach his bloody human punching bag. He blows a strain of red locks away from his eyes to carefully watch what he’s going to do.

Snyder grabs Finch’s cheeks, forcing him to look up, “You’re definitely a keeper. Isn’t that right, Al?”

He turns to face Albert, watching as the redhead struggles to sit upright once again. He didn’t break his glare at the man while doing so, showing his own daggers through hazel eyes.

Snyder scoffs it off, focusing back to Finch. He unhooks the rope off of the ceiling, the limp body giving in to gravity and hitting the floor instantly. His breathing is slowing down, but hitched with a sob ever so often.

“So, why don’tcha have a little alone time—“ He grabs Finch by the hair. He yelped in pain before being tossed towards where Albert is sitting, his feet somehow complying to the push despite the ache he feels, “—and think about what you did”

He was lucky, Albert was able to catch him into his chest and lap. If he didn’t, Finch would’ve hit the floor and added another bruise on his face. Finch quickly scrambles himself into his embrace as best as he can with tied hands in front of him. Shaking with suppressed sobs into Al’s tattered clothes.

“You don’t wanna make him suffer for something he didn’t do, right?” Snyder taunted.

It fuels Albert’s anger to the brim. He tries his best to wrap his arms around the boy while maintaining his glare at Snyder as he makes his way up the stairs. The heavy door quickly opens and shuts not long after a dozen or so drawn out steps up the stairs. The basement is once again left with minimal lighting since the candle from previously was brought up along with him.

The moment he hears the door close, Finch lets out his sobs. Loud, fueled with ache and fear. Albert suspects he was told to stay quiet while they were doing… whatever it is they did to him to make him look like this. He had a few guesses about what it was, but Al couldn’t bear to put the image in his head.

“Oh, Finch, what did they do to you?” Albert whispered, carefully holding Finch’s cheek up to see the damage.

Finch stays silent as they view each other’s faces. Albert wipes Finch’s tears with his thumb delicately to be careful as to not harm him. He cries at the touch of his soft hand, the gentleness he’s been longing for the moment he got into this shithole of a place.

He crashes his face into the crook of Albert’s neck, sobbing a little softer than before. Al places his chin on his curls gently. He rubs Finch’s back and shushes in his hair. Albert knows it won’t calm him down, but there’s nothing wrong with trying.

“Albert… please… I wanna go home…” Finch said shakily, so soft Al nearly couldn’t hear him. About the only thing he has said since the moment the couple has reunited.

Albert hushed the boy, rubbing his cheeks against Finch’s curls, “I know. I know. Just hold on for me”

He continues to sob, a puddle slowly forming on Albert’s shirt. The dam for Albert himself finally broke, letting a drop of water fall down his cheek and a nose slowly getting stuffed. He holds him in his tight arms, as if he’d disappear the moment he lets go.

“We’re gettin’ outta here. I promise” Albert promised, a big promise to uphold too.

It would seem difficult with the position they’re in. He believes their friends are out there coming up with an escape plan or will visit them frequently to check up on them till a plan forms. Till then, he promises to do everything he can to get Finch off of Snyder’s evil hands. Anything to see his Finchy smile again. Even if it ends up being the last thing he does.

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lady-oceana9518 · 5 years ago

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Spa Day (A Charlastor Fic)

A/N: Apologies for the long post! I haven’t figured out how to add a “Read More” link on mobile. Also, I wrote the majority of this after a couple of margaritas😆 But am really happy with how it turned out! I hope y’all enjoy the fluffiness!!❤️

It was an early morning at the Hazbin Hotel, and Charlie, Vaggie, Niffty, and Husk were already awake and busy moving furniture around the foyer. Charlie was so pleased with the progress her tenants were making with their rehabilitation that she decided to organize a spa day at the hotel! Needless to say, she was very excited. They had rented several specialized tables for massages and facials, and were repurposing the hotel’s softest armchairs into manicure/pedicure stations. There were also a multitude of folding partitions that the crew used to separate each station, for a little extra privacy.

Just after she and Vaggie spread out the last partition between two massage tables, Charlie stepped back to admire their handiwork, wiping the sweat from her brow with the back of her hand as she did so. She smiled, satisfied and excited for the day to come. However, her grin faltered as she realized that something, or rather someone, was missing: her beloved mate, Alastor, better known as the Radio Demon. She had no clue where he was and hoped he was alright. After a few moments, though, Charlie shrugged and turned back to the rest of her friends. Alastor had a habit of coming and going as he pleased, especially when he decided to go on one of his “hunts”, but she was sure he’d turn up sooner or later that day.

“Alright! Gather around, everyone!” Charlie called, beckoning the others over to her. After finishing up the tasks at hand, they approached her, awaiting what she would say next. “So! Like we discussed before, here’s how today is going to go. Niffty will do manicures and pedicures, Angel will give massages, Vaggie will do facials, and Husk will supply everyone with hot tea and/or champagne. But remember, no more than one glass of champagne per person! I’ll be helping each of you as needed and making sure that everything runs smoothly. Any questions?” The others shook their heads. “Alright! Let’s head to our stations and get ready!!” With that, Charlie pranced off to direct their tenants to their desired spa service, while her fellow staff members walked to their respective stations at a more sedate pace.

A couple hours in, their spa day was going perfectly! Soothing soundscapes serenaded the hotel tenants from speakers placed strategically around the lobby. Meanwhile, Vaggie applied a moisturizing mask to the face of an anglerfish demon; Angel used his many arms to massage knots out of the back muscles of a tall, red-skinned demon who he seemed quite taken with; Niffty excitedly conversed with a black-furred hellhound as she painted her nails with an iridescent silver polish; and Husk carried a tray containing mugs of chamomile tea to a few demons relaxing on one of the lobby’s plush couches.

Sighing contentedly, Charlie was about to make another round to check on each of her friends’ progress when she heard the front door creak open ever so slightly. She turned around just as none other than Alastor stepped surreptitiously into the lobby. He looked uncharacteristically tired. That, coupled with the fact that she hadn’t seen him since the previous afternoon, made her think that he was either hunting, putting other high-ranking demons in their place, or both. Even though his clothes looked a little rumpled, which was also unusual for him, he had obviously taken care to remove any bloodstains from his previous activities, whatever they were. Charlie smiled fondly at him. He knew that she was a little squeamish (as funny as that was, seeing as how she was the Princess of Hell) and she really appreciated the effort he put into being more thoughtful and sensitive.

“Al!” Charlie exclaimed, all but running over to her mate and giggling happily as she wrapped her arms around him. “I missed you,” she murmured in a softer tone. She took a few moments to lay her head against his lean chest and savor the sound of his strong heartbeat, then peeked up at him with an adoring expression on her face.

The Radio Demon chuckled, then placed a soft kiss on her forehead and nuzzled his nose against hers as he returned her fond gaze with one of his own.

“Well hello there sweetheart. I missed you too,” Alastor replied in a low tone, the usual radio feedback gone from his voice for those few moments.

Charlie felt her cheeks flush at their close proximity and his sultry tone of voice, which only caused her mate’s trademark grin to stretch wider.

“A-are you feeling alright? Did your...hunt, or whatever, go well? You look a little tired, Al,” Charlie inquired, cupping his face with one of her hands as her brow furrowed on concern.

Alastor chuckled, closing his eyes briefly as he covered her hand with one of his own and leaned into her gentle touch. “Not to worry, my dear! Got into a bit of a skirmish with Vox but all is well now. Your ‘deer’ Radio Demon showed him who’s really in charge around here.” Alastor purposefully pitched his voice down an octave and his gaze toward Charlie turned half-lidded. He was doing his best to fluster her as he loved seeing her reactions, and he definitely wasn’t disappointed.

Charlie blushed even more at that and had to turn away briefly until she could get her complexion under control. Once she regained her composure, she turned back to her mate with a bright smile and an idea that would hopefully help him relax after the stressful night he’d had.

“So...I know I mentioned that I’d be organizing a spa day for our tenants since everyone has been making such great progress!” Alastor nodded along, gazing attentively at his mate with his usual grin in place. “The thing is, though...all of the other staff are occupied with giving treatments to our residents.” Charlie began to get a little flustered at the thought of what she was about to ask Alastor, but soldiered on anyway. “Um...I know you’ve had a stressful night, what with dealing with Vox and all...so, is there anything I can do to help you relax? A massage, maybe...?” Charlie trailed off, gazing up at Alastor inquiringly with her naturally red-stained cheeks colored an even darker red by her prominent blush.

Alastor’s eyes widened a fraction at his mate’s forwardness, though the rest of his expression remained unchanged. “Why, Charlie, my dear! So forward today!” He laughed to himself, then leveled his mate with a warm gaze and took one of her hands in his own. “You know I’m not one for such...intimate activities,” At that, Charlie’s demeanor deflated almost imperceptibly, though she strived to remain considerate of him and his preferences as far as physical touch was concerned. “But! If it’s you who will be doing the massaging, my dear, how could I ever refuse?”

Charlie’s grin returned to its usual brightness as she grabbed Alastor’s hands in her own and began to pull him toward the hotel’s grand staircase. “Great!! You’ll be relaxed and recharged again in no time!! Since there are so many demons down here already, would you feel a little more comfortable if I gave you your massage in our room?”

Alastor’s gaze softened as he wrapped one arm around Charlie’s waist and pulled her close to his side. “That sounds wonderful, sweetheart. Thank you.”

With that, the pair began to climb the staircase to their suite on the top floor of the hotel. Angel caught Charlie’s gaze as they passed, and he gave her a wink and six thumbs-up when he caught sight of her and Alastor nestled so closely against one another. Charlie blushed slightly but nonetheless gave her friend a subtle smile and thumbs-up of her own.

Once Charlie and Alastor entered their tastefully-decorated suite, Charlie closed and locked the door behind them. “Now, when people get massages, they normally remove their shirts to give the massage therapist easier access to their back. But if you don’t want to do that, Al, it’s perfectly fine!! Just undress to your comfort level. Or not at all! Whatever you want to do.” When Charlie finished speaking and finally turned around, however, her jaw dropped and her eyes widened. There was her devilishly handsome mate laying shirtless on their bed. He was stretched out comfortably on his stomach with his eyes closed serenely and his head resting on top of his crossed arms.

“I’m ready when you are, my sweet,” he all but purred.

“O-okay!” Charlie squeaked. She scurried to their en suite bathroom to grab a bottle of coconut oil and returned to the bedside.

With a snap of his fingers, Alastor turned on the same soothing spa music Charlie had playing in the lobby, as his mate warmed some of the oil between her hands. She began massaging his back in broad strokes, then decided to focus on his shoulders where she felt the most tension. Alastor groaned softly in pleasure, already feeling himself melting beneath her attentive hands.

After spending about 20 minutes loosening the knots in her mate’s back muscles, Charlie instructed him to turn over so she could work on his neck muscles with the aid of gravity. Alastor sighed, a content smile stretching across his face as Charlie’s nimble fingers massaged the back of his neck. A few minutes later, she pleasantly surprised him by reaching up to massage his scalp, followed by his soft ears. She rubbed them from their base to their furry, tufted tips, delighting in the soft moans he seemed to subconsciously utter.

Deciding that he had reached his limit, Alastor gently but firmly grabbed Charlie around the waist and pulled her on top of him.

“A-Al...?” Charlie questioned with curiosity as she glanced up to see his eyes closed and a soft smile on his handsome face.

“Shh...let’s just relax,” Alastor murmured as he wrapped one arm around Charlie’s back and carded through her silken hair with the fingers of his opposite hand.

“Mm...alright...” Charlie mumbled with a yawn, snuggling against Alastor’s lean but firm chest and already beginning to drift off.

Just as they were both about to fall asleep, Alastor whispered, “Thanks for looking out for me, doll. I love you.”

#charlastor fic #charlastor #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #charlie hazbin hotel #charlie magne #cute #fluff #romance

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ilikelookingatthings · 4 years ago

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Is Adrien cursed?

So...anyone feeling like Adrien is cursed because everytime he tries to do something based on his feelings he is punished for it? and I don’t mean the romantic ones.

The dude wanted to experience a birthday party for once in his life. It got his best friend banned from the house, akumatized, al the adults kidnapped. and he tried experiencing the party a little longer instead of transforming and realized that was selfish because his best friend was a akuma and everyone was held hostage.

He wants to sped time with his dad on the first christmas without his mom and he understandably gets upset and runs off. He stops himself from catacysming a tre instead hitting a poster. they got stuck out in the cold and plagg was cheeseless. but then just when he hit some luck. talking to a kind old santa claus who helped inspire him about his problems who gave him a ride home. it turned out his dad was a dick to the santa, Ladybug had jumped to conclusions and refused to listen to him that the santa wasnt a akuma and attacked the kind man on adrien’s behalf. which then caused that kid ma to become a akuma.

though a positive was everyone who was trouble was allowed to stay over and his dad had a real talk with him.

His outing with his friends are often canceled last minute by his dad like in glacatiour.

He invited nino out to the wax musuem.both alya and mari tag along but alya and nino ditch adrien and mari ran from adrien and adrien doesnt know what he did wrong and his friends aren’t helping. then he tries a trick to cheer mari up likewhat plagg does and ended up embarrassing mari even if mari tried to fib her way out of that. and he opens up on a rare occasion about the girl he likes who doesnt like his jokes to marinette and mari isobviously distressed again and leaves.

Adrien wants to see his mom’s movie and his dad canceled. yet due to a perfume add he was tracked down by fans. he got his friend mari embarrassed because she was helping hi in pajamas. and he was almost died jumping off a building.

He trieds the advice of changing targets before he was ready with kagami before and we know he ended up asking his crush for help and is helping push her toward luka.

He tries to be mature and understanding of his dad’s happyness if nathalie and gabriel are a couple by giving his blessig and it made his dad made and we know it distracted his dad from telling him about the mom.

Adrien takes the kwami book for research. It gets stolen by lila. then ladybug. he tried to deal with lila as a civilian because he had a idea but ladybug escalated the situation. hhen when he tranformed into chat to do his job ladybug got convinced he was kidnapped and almost doomed paris over a illusion him. all because he wanted to talk super heros with the new girl. and then ladybug is the one who tkes the book to master fu and finds out all this context whie he’s left in the dark(probaby to not risk they figuring out eachothers identities due to the book). but he was taken out of school for a while.

He joins a gamer tournament. Max gets akumatized and adrien gives up his place in the tournament when mari tried giving her to max because adrien admired mari’s skills. even though as talented as mari was she only joined bcause she wanted to have a excuse to train with adrien one on one.

He tried to tactically and in a unofenvive manner get theo to think chat and ladybug were a thing to give up on ladybug out of jealousy(which was wrong becaus ladybug and chat aren’t a thing and it was lying and not chat’s jjob to turn people away). but you have to admit that chat’s way of dealing with it had tact especially compared to certain tactics other jealous people use. but then he dealt with everyone believing he could be a criminal and he couldnt handle a akuma by himself at all aand then ladybug saying the real chat wouldnt love her. proof ladybug hadn’t been taking any of his flrting seriously(and I like this episode alot because he did wrong and got karma but I do think it fits into the catagory).

He snuck out with kagami in desperada to have fun and tried to liv up to being chosen by ladybug as adrien. but it resulted him stuck in a loop for more than 1000 tries. failing to save her til he gave up. and her having very different reactions to his jokes.

He has terrible timing trying to stand up for his right to have emotions and that he desereves better treatment and should be let in on more things. things that are progress that he doesnt get to do often as adrien. but has really bad timing during akuma attacks as chat. like in glacatiour, or siren ect.

dude has fun modeling his talent friend’s hat? he gets turned into a gold statue and plagg makes up a lie that makes chat sound incompetant for why plagg wasnt with chat to ladybug.

Adrien trries dancing with marinette at chloe’s party one time and it gets chloe angry enough to lash out at her butler, cause a akuma. and he almost catacylsms ladybug.

Chat tried to confess to ladybug in darkcupid. he gets hit with a arrow, says mean stuff to her, almost cataclysms her. doesnt get to confess and he doesnt even find out he was kissed until ages later from a interviewer.

He tries to be understanding to his cousin but his cousin blamed him for not going to the funeral when it ws gabriel who didn’t let him go. and Felix deletes the nice videos hat adrien never gets to see, and then pretends to be him and is cruel enough to his friends it caused a few of themto lose complete faith in him. and three got akumatized. and his cousin messed with ladybug and tried to make a deal with hawkmoth.

Adrien tried to be understand toward new girl lila and thats backfired ALOT.

He wants to make a relationship work in chat blanc after finding out ladybug is mari and she likes him and it resulted in his dad bullying mari into breaking up with him, his identity being found out when she almost got akumatized. and he accidentally destroyed the world when he was conflicted about helping his dad save his mom or taking down his dad who went too far to save the mom and lost himself. and he was stuck alone for ages and then wiped from time.

tris watching a race with friends he gets absorbed by timetagger.

He snuck on a trip to go to a fieldtrip to London with his friends. a akuma snuck on and got everyone sent to space which would get his dad even more over protective.

Adrien and kagami and mari had a good time together and he wanted to hang with them as friend together with some icecream. Not realizing Mari would over think the icecream part and try to put them together when she wasnt ready to. enough that she got distracted by them and lead hawkmoth to fu unintentionally. if adrien and kagami hadn’t been close mari wouldn’t have been distracted so the guardian wouldn’t have left. and he had been encouraged to try to movie on and find someone actually interested.

like the dude’s dad is a villian and his mom is in a magical coma and his side job is stoppng his dad from finding a way to wake her up.

gets a party with just the boys at the house and a whole bunch of stuff happened.

Biggest situation was the new york special. Adrien only wanted to spend a few days with his friends on this trip in New York. He agrees to watch over Paris while ladybug is gone just to find out he can go on the trip. He was honestly considering not going because he didn’t want ti disapoint ladybug until plagg convinced him that adrien could go. all he’d have to do is watch the app and fly to Paris while notifying her. Plagg didn’t even convince adrien to just tell her and that she wouldnt be disappointed.

then Mari doesn’t want to sit next to him despite him being excited to hang with her. He gets trapped so it unable to go to Paris in time. Ladybug told him that she can’t trust him anymore due to him leaving Paris. this got him distracted enough he was thrown and catacsymed a girl. the adults rip into him telling him he doesn’t deserve the miraculous. Him leaving and not notifying ladybug meant the damage in Paris couldn’t be reversed. and he gave up his miraculous.. and was then told he had to go back to Paris by his dad.

Like the dude just wanted to go to New York with his friends but it felt like alot of bad stuff happened because he went and he felt shamed or selfish for wanting to go when you consider everything that happened.

Like its just really interesting though process to think about.

makes me think of how when adrien helped fu in origins he was caught and taken from the school

#miraculous ladybug #ladybug #adrien #marinette #kagami #chat noir #aspik #selfish

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yamisnuffles · 5 years ago

Text

To Hell and Back

History proved that there would always be a selection of humans interested in the occult. Every so often, they actually gathered up enough knowledge that Heaven took notice and it became Aziraphale’s problem. Late in the 14th century is one of those times and Crowley is nowhere to be found to be called on for the Arrangement.

Warnings for non-graphic violence/implied torture. Hurt/Comfort.

Read on Ao3

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History proved that there would always be a selection of humans interested in the occult. Oftentimes they knew too little for this to mean anything. Perhaps they’d gather together in the dark and chant some nonsensical incantation and end the night no worse for wear. Sometimes they actually knew just enough to cause some trouble, for themselves or others. These were the individuals who would actually manage to summon a demon. If they were fortunate, they would get someone like Crowley and find themselves the victim of an elaborate prank. If not, they would barter away their soul for something foolish and ultimately meaningless in the face of what they’d given up. And very, very rarely, they gathered up enough knowledge that Heaven took notice and it became Aziraphale’s problem.

Heaven wasn’t terribly concerned with these humans dooming themselves. What they were worried about was the image problem it created. Someone with actual control of the occult could gain a following, either for themself or the demon they’d brought into their service. It just didn’t do to have false gods raised up completely unchecked, not when those so-called gods had hellish power behind them. As Heaven’s main agent on Earth, it came down to Aziraphale to do something about it. He rather disliked such assignments. They required quite a bit more direct interference than he preferred and could get messy fast. If he could have, he likely would have tried to make use of the Arrangement he and Crowley had struck up. Unfortunately, he’d seen neither hide nor hair of the demon in some time.

“Never around when your help would actually be convenient to me,” Aziraphale muttered into his tankard of ale.

In the handful of centuries since he’d finally agreed to Crowley’s proposition, the Arrangement seemed to have most often served to get the demon out of the cold and damp. As the weather was currently both, he was no doubt somewhere far afield, soaking up the sun, the lazy serpent. Meanwhile Aziraphale was left to clean up what was, really, Hell’s mess in the first place. His joints ached and backside was sore from what felt an eternity on horseback.

But no matter! The road of righteousness was rarely easy and now at least he had a warm meal in his stomach. Better yet, he could walk the rest of the way from the inn and be back before supper. With that thought in mind, he gathered the last drops of hare stew onto his finger and licked it off with a satisfied hum.

“Another serving, Father?” the inkeep asked, ladle in hand.

Aziraphale tugged at his vestments self consciously. “No, no. I’m afraid I must be off to minister to a member of the flock who has strayed. I shan’t be long, though, so keep the pot warm for me if you would, my good man.”

“Of course. You stay safe out there. There are some unsavory folks about.”

“You have no idea,” Aziraphale murmured.

“What was that?”

“I said that’s the idea. To stay safe.” Aziraphale offered a fluttering smile. “Right, ah, off I go.”

Before he went, Aziraphale left a blessing upon the inn. He knew food was scarce and that he was getting special treatment because of his supposed status. He’d make sure the innkeeper had a prosperous year and that his larder remained well stocked. If this meant Aziraphale was ensured another hearty meal upon his return and, shall we say, miraculously pleasant quarters, surely that hardly qualified as a sin.

The weather outside was more miserable than he recalled. Mud sucked at his every step. It was almost enough to get him back on his horse but the poor beast needed a rest in the stable as much as he needed time away from it. Instead, he did his best to think warm, dry thoughts as he continued down the road.

At the edge of a dark wood, there was a small footpath. It was nearly invisible through the undergrowth but it stunk of demonic energies. Not the pleasant musky, smokiness that lingered about Crowley either. It was all brimstone and bad life choices. There was no doubt the demon summoning fool was at the end of it. Aziraphale took a bracing breath and waved his hand to clear the way forward. It wouldn’t do to trip on brambles and bring attention to himself.

The path wound further than Aziraphale expected. What little sun there had been on that grey and dismal day was all but blotted out by the canopy above. He couldn’t help but shiver. The air was increasingly oppressive. He’d known he was walking into something bad, to have been called in at all, but this… Most places held at least a trace of love from those who lived there. This land was completely devoid of it.

The forest cleared away around a small, unassuming wood frame cottage. It could have at least had the good grace to look wicked. It was almost charming. Or would have been, if the area around it wasn’t entirely devoid of life. No plants grew at its base, not a single creeping tendril of ivy or blade of grass. Neither crawling ant nor soaring raven were about, either. In their place was a deafening silence that made Aziraphale almost long for a weapon in his hand.

“Stop being ridiculous. You are a Principality. Guardian of the Eastern Gate. This is but some human who has gotten their hands on power that doesn’t belong to them.”

Aziraphale squared his shoulders. He marched across the barren land to the cottage and, after a bracing breath, wrapped his fingers around the iron door handle. The door gave without resistance. The instant he crossed the threshold, the eerie silence was broken by something much worse. A scream tore up from somewhere beneath his feet and Aziraphale realized a number of things at once. First, that while the door hadn’t been locked, it had been magically protected and he’d just as good as rung the alarm bell. Second, that there must have been another level beneath the one on which he stood, which was empty. Third, and most importantly, he recognized that voice.

“Crowley!”

There was no response, only that raw scream. Aziraphale had the dizzying feeling that the cry was coming from the bowels of Hell itself. Fear flooded his veins, air emptied from his lungs, and his rapidly beating heart flew up into his throat. The world shifted on its axis. Aziraphale was forced to throw out an arm and steady himself against the timber door frame so that he didn’t fall. He closed his eyes and focused inward to force his corporation back under his control. Now was not the time for panic. He needed to search the room with a clear head. There had to be something he wasn’t seeing.

The single room cottage was much on the inside as it was on the outside- disconcertingly normal. There was a well used hearth with a table and chair arranged to one side and a bed to the other. Here and there were other ordinary signs of life. A discarded cloak hung off the chair and a bowl held lingering traces of porridge.

Still there was that horrid cry. Aziraphale overturned the table, the bed, anything that might be used to hide whatever hatch or door might lead him downward. When his frantic search yielded no results, he kicked a large wooden chest in frustration.

“It didn’t move,” Aziraphale mumbled as he blinked down at the chest. It was a sturdily made thing, no doubt, but he was an angel. A rather peeved angel, at that. It should have budged. “What are you hiding?”

He flipped open the lid. There wasn’t clothing, blankets, or other belongings inside. There wasn’t anything. He palmed the bottom and found a hidden latch. It opened to reveal a ladder down to a cavernous space below. He wasn’t eager to climb down into Heaven only knew what and leave himself exposed but Crowley’s drifting voice had been reduced to a pitiable moan. This wasn’t the time to dawdle. Rather than take the ladder, Aziraphale stepped up onto the edge of the chest and dropped right down.

The feeling of evil that had lingered about the cottage was nearly suffocating there. He had to shake off a wave of nausea that rolled through his gut. He’d managed to keep his feet after the fall, despite the unpleasant jolt it sent up his legs, but the world seemed to swim around him and he wasn’t sure he could stay standing long that way.

“What have we here? You have the look of a priest but if you set off my wards, you must be something much more interesting than a meddlesome local.”

Aziraphale’s eyes jumped instinctually to the source of the voice. There, waiting for him in the shadows of the dank cellar, was a figure obscured by a heavy black cloak and lit by candlelight. Aziraphale forced his eyes away and on to the person beyond who actually interested him.

“Crowley!”

The demon’s crimson curls were a vision of Eden all those years ago but he was a long way from paradise. Crowley lay prone. His wings were extended, his black clothes in tatters, and his pale skin battered and bruised. His wings had been impaled, leaving him pinned like a butterfly for display. His eyes were opened wide and gold from edge to edge, but there was no sign he’d heard Aziraphale. He didn’t seem cognizant of anything. His pulse fluttered wildly in his neck and his chest rose and fell sporadically as he drew in pained, wheezing breaths.

Some sort of glyph glowed from beneath him. Aziraphale had a hunch about what it was but there would be no telling or counteracting it without closer inspection. He moved to rush over to Crowley only to be stopped when the cloaked figure stepped in his path.

“Are you listening to me?”

Aziraphale blinked. The human had indeed been talking that whole time, he realized. “No,” he said plainly, “I’m not. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d ask that you would release him immediately.”

The hood was thrown back to reveal a well groomed man with silver hair and a neatly trimmed beard. “Do you know who I am?” he asked, thumping an open palm against his chest. “I, Oswald, have had the very spawn of Hell at my feet for-”

“I’m sorry, did I mistakenly give the impression that I cared? I said, release him. Now.”

Aziraphale let Heavenly authority lace through his words. It was enough that the human, Oswald, started to step out of the way. He shook his head and sputtered. “How dare you! You have no right to command me to do anything, least of all release this demon. I bought him with my soul. Not that it matters. With him, I’ll be immortal and will never have to pay that price. But he is mine, regardless.”

“Who? Who made this deal with you?” Aziraphale demanded.

He couldn’t imagine it was Crowley himself. The demon wasn’t the sort to bargain away his own freedom for one human’s soul or for anything, for that matter. Which could only mean one of his cohorts had sold him out because Aziraphale was sure the human wasn’t lying, not with the demonic sigils that glowed from the manacles around Crowley’s wrists and ankles.

Oswald seemed far more pleased with this line of discussion. He strode forward, face split by a too wide smile. “You’re no human. I already know that. From your empty heroics, I would guess… one of the Heavenly host? If so, I would think you’d recognize the works of Satan. He was impressed with the number of his underlings I’ve tricked into my service over the decades and decided to reward me.”

Aziraphale laughed. He couldn’t help it. He was more willing to believe Crowley had gotten himself into this mess than he was to believe Lucifer would lower himself to making a deal with some nobody like this.

His obvious mirth over that claim was not well received. Oswald bent low and slammed a palm against Crowley’s chest. The glyph below him instantly began glowing brighter and Crowley arched his back violently as the energy from it tore through him. He strained against the manacles that held him down and wounds were reopened against the infernal metal. A cry ripped from his throat, identical to the one Aziraphale had heard when he’d entered the cottage. Aziraphale’s vision narrowed to the ooze of blood from pale, ragged flesh. He thought he might be sick.

“You can feel it, can’t you?” Oswald asked, his voice lilting and wild. “All this power and it’s mine whenever I want it.”

Aziraphale could feel it. A gateway to Hell had been opened and filled the air with the rancid smell of brimstone. It was the same sort of thing Aziraphale might do if he needed to contact Heaven without going all the way back Upstairs, except the energies had been reversed. Perverted. It shouldn’t have hurt Crowley, if he’d been properly prepared for it. Instead, he’d been made into some sort of conduit to amplify the power that was being forced up into the mortal realm and it was tearing him apart.

Without thinking, Aziraphale grabbed one of the candlesticks that loomed tall in the corners of the room. The fire at top flared and melted the candle in an instant. The wax that poured over the iron was ignited by the heat of his fury. It wasn’t his old sword, but it would do. “Release him,” he ordered in a booming voice.

“Why do you care? If you are an angel, what is the life of a demon to you?”

“He is-” Aziraphale’s gaze flickered back over Crowley’s thin, straining form. “He is still a living being and I will not see him tormented.” He widened his stance and tightened his grip on his makeshift weapon. “I will not ask again. Release him.”

Oswald laughed and spit at the angel’s feet. “I’m not afraid, not with this power at my command.”

Aziraphale advanced. Candlelight was drowned by holy light when he unfurled his own wings. He pulled the full breadth of it back into himself to spare Crowley any more pain. “I said release him. You may yet be spared your folly but not if you continue down this path.”

“I don’t care what you are. I told you, you cannot command me.”

Oswald charged the angel in front of him. Aziraphale moved smoothly aside and so avoided a fist that had the power to crash into the stone wall. He was not afraid. He’d fought the Fallen when humans had been no more than a Divine thought. He could as easily snuff out this human’s life as he could one of the candles around them but he still hoped to avoid that path.

However, Oswald continued to fight with the singular bullheaded surety of a human with a taste of power. Only, that power wasn’t his. It was there alright but not truly for him. He never had and never would have the strength to grasp it. He charged about like a beast, snarling with growing frustration. The only damage he’d managed was to his own lair. Every punch was dodged. Wisps of ill handled magic were dispelled. He threw a chunk of rubble at Aziraphale and the angel simply sliced it in two. His desperation drove him to the glyph he’d carved and foolishly activated. The moment he laid his bloodied hands on it to try to draw out even more power, it was proven once more that evil held the seeds of its own destruction. His fragile human form burst at the seams when he attempted to harness so much infernal energy. Aziraphale closed his eyes as Oswald was reduced to dust with a scream and the soul within was pulled right through the gate that he’d opened.

Once Oswald was well and truly gone, the glyph deactivated once more. The makeshift weapon in Aziraphale’s hands became a simple candlestick again and was tossed aside. He dropped to his knees next to Crowley. When he reached toward him, Crowley’s eyes flashed open and he fought to curl in on himself. Aziraphale bit his lip to stop from whimpering at the sight. There was the Arrangement to consider. Yes, the Arrangement. That was why he needed to free Crowley from this predicament.

“It’s me. It’s Aziraphale. I’m not going to hurt you, so try to relax, dear boy,” he soothed, pressing a hand against the wiry muscle of one straining arm. “I’m here and I’ll get you out of this. I swear it.”

Surprisingly, Crowley did relax. He still looked insensible to the world but he stopped struggling with his bonds. Which left Aziraphale to carry through with his promise. Far easier said, as it happened, than done. The manacles were designed to suppress demonic power, not angelic, but removing them wouldn’t be pretty for either of them.

He grabbed hold of the closest one. His hands instantly singed but he kept his grip tight. “This is going to hurt,” he warned, not knowing if Crowley even heard him. “I’m so sorry, but there’s no other way.”

The holy power needed to break it was enough to scorch Crowley in turn. He hissed and attempted to jerk away again as the first manacle melted into nothing. Aziraphale bit his lip hard enough to draw blood. He wanted to give more assurances but he knew that the best thing to do at this point would be to finish freeing Crowley. He moved on to the other wrist, to one ankle, and then the next. Crowley let out a pitiful sigh of relief and curled in on himself as much as he was able.

Aziraphale wished that was the worst of it. There were still the wings to consider. They’d been stabbed through by mundane wooden stakes. It was pointless cruelty. The other bonds would have been more than enough to hold Crowley. Aziraphale could think of no other reason for it than vanity- glossy, black feathered proof that a demon had been laid low by human hands. Perhaps it was foolish to use another miracle on them, but Aziraphale couldn’t bear the thought of wrenching them free. With a snap, both stakes vanished and the damage they’d inflicted was undone. Another and the damage he’d done to remove the manacles was also healed.

Crowley squeezed his eyes shut and moaned. His wings fluttered and were curled protectively around him. Aziraphale swallowed against a surge of feeling. He ran his fingers over the graceful curve of one wing and carefully straightened a few errant feathers. “Come now, put those away for me so I can get you out of here.”

He tucked his own away again, as though a display would help. Crowley answered with another weak rustle of his wings and then groaned in pain. Aziraphale flinched sympathetically. He stood back up and started to pace at the foot of the ladder.

“He’s my enemy, technically,” he said to himself in a shrill whisper. “I’ve already gone through the trouble of getting rid of his captor and unshackling him. I can’t really be asked more by the Arrangement. No doubt whoever in Hell set him up will be around to check out their handiwork. Which is to say nothing of what Heaven will think if they find out all I’ve done.” Further argument was stopped by another pitiable moan. Aziraphale twisted his ring and then winced. His hands still held infernal burns that he wouldn’t be able to heal himself. Such a minor thing, compared to everything Crowley had been through. “Oh, bugger it.”

Aziraphale delicately slid one arm under Crowley’s wings to cradle the demon’s shoulders and then slid the other under a knobby pair of knees. He needed to act with care to avoid the glyph. It was awkward with Crowley’s wings still extended but Aziraphale managed to lift him regardless.

“Right.” He felt like he was going to be ill. He looked down at Crowley’s wan face. “You’re- you’re my prisoner now. I’m taking you for questioning to make sure you haven’t tempted any other humans. So I’ll just be taking you back with me and getting you healed up.”

He shifted Crowley’s wire thin frame in his arms and tried not to think too closely about how it felt to hold his dearest adversary. A snap of his fingers and the both of them appeared in Aziraphale’s room in the inn. Crowley’s wings flared wide and knocked a small painting of St. Anthony from the walls with a clatter.

“Who’s up there!”

Aziraphale glanced quickly at Crowley and decided it was safer to leave him alone for a moment than to risk discovery. He clambered around wings, splayed limbs, and got out just in time to greet the innkeeper.

“It’s just me,” he said. “Nothing at all to worry about.”

The innkeeper raised one bushy eyebrow. “Didn’t see you come back.” He raked an appraising eye over Aziraphale. “What’s all that then?”

Aziraphale looked down and realized he had Crowley’s blood on him. He ran his hands self consciously over his blackened vestments. “Oh, er, fell in the mud. Quite a mess. That’s why I slipped back in quietly. Very embarrassing.”

The innkeeper hummed skeptically but it wasn’t like he could offer any other explanation for how Aziraphale had magically appeared in his room without seeming to have gone through the front door. Aziraphale could practically see when his poor human mind smoothed over the whole situation.

“Well, supper will be in about an hour,” the man said.

“Yes, thank you. I’ll just be back in my room now. Goodbye.”

Aziraphale slipped back through his door with what he hoped was enough speed to mask the interior. He miracled his vestments clean. Yet another miracle was spent to ensure no further noises would escape the room. He heaved out a heavy sigh and then returned to the bedside where he’d left Crowley. The demon didn’t seem to have improved in the slightest. He was out cold, his wings and various overlong limbs still left akimbo. Aziraphale had the sudden impression of Crowley fallen, fresh out of Heaven. It wasn’t a pleasant thought.

Well, he might not have been able to do anything for Crowley then, but he could now. Along with fresh clothes for Crowley, he miracled up a large bowl of warm water and clean, soft cloth. As gently as he was able, he cleaned away blood, new and old. He couldn’t help but wonder how long Crowley had been imprisoned there. Long enough to leave evidence of experimentation in the form of myriad cuts and bruises.

Aziraphale proceeded carefully. He gently dabbed black blood away from pale flesh. He frowned every time a new incision was uncovered and pulled away quickly whenever Crowley winced or groaned. And it was far too often for both. By the time it was all cleaned and mended, Aziraphale felt exhausted.

He ran a weary hand over his face and sighed. “And here I was complaining you weren’t around to settle this mess. Oh, Crowley.”

Crowley’s lips moved but Aziraphale couldn’t hear what he’d said, if anything. Aziraphale pushed wearily back to his feet and leaned closer. “What was that?”

“Said…” Crowley smacked his dry, gummy mouth. “S’what ‘m here for. Make messessss.”

Aziraphale let out a weak chuckle. “That you are.” A cup of mulled wine materialized in one hand and the other hand he slid behind Crowley’s head to lift him up. Once Crowley was in a position to drink, Aziraphale pressed the cup to his lips. “Here, this should help.”

After he’d swallowed down a few mouthfuls, Crowley cracked open one eye. “Where-?”

“Oh, an inn, not far from where you were,” Aziraphale supplied as he sank back into his seat. “I have a room.”

“Where I… where was I?”

“You don’t remember?”

Crowley shook his head and then winced. Aziraphale’s heart did something he tried not to examine. He had done all he could to heal Crowley but the worst of the injuries weren’t something he could heal. That would take time and Crowley recovering enough to do the rest himself.

“Don’t really remember much,” the demon said.

“I don’t know all the details. I was sent to deal with a human with far too much interest in the occult. He’d managed to summon you or you had been-” Would it help or hurt Crowley to know what Aziraphale suspected of his fellow demons? He was so fragile at the moment, Aziraphale wasn’t sure it was worth the risk. “Well, at any rate, you were being used to syphon demonic energy until he fell to his own folly. I expect you’ll be feeling the after effects of that for a while.”

“Explains why I feel like Hell. Literally,” Crowley replied in a tight voice.

He tried to sit up but immediately fell back with a cry. His eyes were squeezed shut as his body became a collection of angles- all taut muscles and hard locked joints- as he fought through the worst of the pain. When it subsided again, he sank into the bed. His chest rose and fell with deep, erratic breaths. Eventually he opened his eyes once more and stared up at the ceiling.

“Probably should have made it easier on both of us and discorporated me,” he said between strained breaths.

Aziraphale stood so suddenly that his chair fell with a clatter behind him. “Don’t. Don’t you dare say such things.”

Crowley’s eyes looked suddenly clearer than they had all day. He fixed Aziraphale with a gaze sharp enough to cut. “Why?”

“You’re challenging me deciding not to kill you?”

“Eh, not kill, really. Just discorporate. Would have been unpleasant, sure, but not like my current situation is a day at the baths. Satan I miss regular baths. When do you think humans around here will get back to that?” Crowley waved his hand weakly. “Whatever, not the point. Point is, it’d probably have been easier for both of us. For you, certainly. I am your enemy, technically, after all.”

Aziraphale felt heat bloom in his cheeks and spread quickly up to his ears. “You heard that, did you?” He tried to find an easy answer, thought about sniping back that he should have discorporated the fiend, but he couldn’t stop thinking about what it would be like to actively do harm to Crowley. He bought some time by righting the chair he’d knocked over and took a seat once more. “Be that as it may, I am an angel. I do not take killing- or discorporating for that matter- lightly,” he sputtered.

“Not even as a mercy?” Crowley croaked, sounding every bit as miserable as he looked.

“Oh, now you’re just being dramatic. You’re doing much better already and getting better by the moment.”

“Easy for you to say. You’re not the one who was wrung out to Hell and back. Literally, more or less.”

Aziraphale pursed his lips. He’d done everything he could but there were limitations to his abilities. Crowley’s ankles and wrists were still branded by burns, the ghost of those infernal manacles. And that was just what could be seen on the outside.

“Time will be the best medicine in this case, I think, but is there anything more I can do? Anything at all. You only have to ask.”

“I’m fine actually. You’re right. Just being dramatic.” A smattering of embarrassed red colored Crowley’s cheeks, no doubt due to his wounded pride. “Been through way worse and survived. This is nothing compared to Falling, let me tell you.”

It wasn’t often that Crowley mentioned his Fall. Generally it only came up in moments like this, offhand when he was too drunk or hurt or tired to care. It made guilt squirm hot and uneasy in Aziraphale’s gut. He knew of course he wasn’t directly responsible for whatever Crowley had gone through but they had been on opposite sides. Were still.

“I could help you get to sleep. At least then you might be unconscious through the worst of it.”

Crowley scratched his chin absently. “I do like sleep. Can’t remember the last time I got a chance, actually.”

“It shouldn’t be a problem to nudge you along. You may want to put your wings away first.”

“Right.” Crowley looked at the state of his wings with a frown. “Just gave them a good grooming and now look at them.”

“I could- that is, if you thought it would help- I could help you with that again when you’re feeling up to it.”

Crowley tried and failed again to sit up. Aziraphale offered a hand and was surprised when it was accepted without protest. Crowley plucked out a loose feather and threw it aside. After rolling his shoulders, he folded his wings in then away from human view.

He shook his head. “Thanks for the offer angel, but I’ve seen the state of your wings. Don’t think what you would do to mine would actually qualify as help.”

“Hush, you.” Aziraphale pursed his lips and rolled his eyes. “You were right, I should have just discorporated you.”

Crowley smiled wide enough to show his too sharp canines. He wriggled stiffly back into bed, flinching and cursing as he went. Once he was settled he said, “Guess you better get to it and knock me out. I smell warm food and I’m sure you’ll be wanting some.” He rolled his head away so Aziraphale could only just see the quick flutter of his lashes around the sharp cut of his cheek. “Then if you want to help with my wings I guess you could. You know, since you clearly need the practice.”

Aziraphale sniffed. “I might be persuaded.”

He reached out a hand and cupped Crowley’s face. There wasn’t, strictly speaking, any need to do so in order to put him to sleep but he’d always found that it comforted humans so it would surely help a fussy demon as well. Crowely’s face was particularly warm to the touch. Aziraphale wondered if it was some lingering effect of what he’d been through but he didn’t have long to worry over it because Crowley suddenly snatched his wrist. He blinked and hoped his pulse wasn’t racing as obviously through his wrist as it was in his chest.

Crowley released him. “I, uh, not that I’m worried about nightmares or anything like that but, I mean, I’d probably sleep better without them, right? So, you know, for resting purposes, do you think you could just put me down cold?”

Aziraphale’s eyebrows raised. “Of course but I could also make sure you have good dreams, if you’d rather.”

Crowley’s eyes flicked over and then quickly back away. “No. Nah. Just nothing. Nothing’s best.”

Aziraphale pressed his palm against Crowley’s hot, scarlet tinged cheek again. “Whatever you’d like, my dear.”

Crowley looked at him one last time before those golden eyes of his were hidden beneath miraculously leaden lids. Aziraphale let his hand linger for some time before he remembered himself. Crowley was his enemy, not someone whose cheek he should be cupping and certainly not someone for whom he should lay extra protections around the room. He pocketed the black feather Crowley had thrown aside and did it anyway.

#good omens #crowley #anthony j crowley #aziraphale #hurt/comfort #whum #fic #my writing

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