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c-optimistic · 4 years

Note

for your happy prompts ask, perhaps kara is a documentary film maker who follows ceo lena around for a doc and ends up falling in love with her by learning a bunch of little things she finds out during filming? also p.s. i absolutely adore your writing even when it tugs at the heartstrings. thank you for writing what you do! it makes my day everytime i see an update or get an email

She wasn’t allowed to see Lena Luthor until she’d signed so many papers that, if stacked together, would be taller than she was. She wasn’t even allowed to touch her camera around Lena Luthor until the woman herself, CEO extraordinaire, had personally vetted Kara out.

“You know,” Kara said as casually as she could, finding herself nervously adjusting her glasses when Lena’s cold gaze fell on her, “I usually have a whole team with me when I do this.”

“And I agreed to this on the condition that only one nosy filmmaker follows me around, not a whole team.” Lena’s reply was like everything else Kara had learned about the CEO thus far: she was blunt, a little harsh, tone and eyes cold and emotionless. She gave nothing away, not in her walk, in her mannerisms, in the ridiculously healthy food she ate, in the way she spoke to her employees or board members. She was cool, detached, wickedly smart, and utterly composed. “And I must approve the final result,” she added, gesturing to the mountain of paperwork Kara signed.

(Kara sighed internally, a tiny part of her sure Lena was a robot.)

“But it’s everything, right?” Kara clarified. “A total look into your life, no holding back?”

“You may follow me around to your heart’s content,” Lena said, leaning back in her desk chair, studying Kara intently.

“May I ask, Ms. Luthor, what made you agree to this, when you’re usually so distrustful of the media?”

Lena gave Kara a smile that didn’t touch her eyes. “What made you ask to do this when you know I distrust the media?”

Lena hadn’t answered, so Kara knew she didn’t have to either, but she felt it was important to establish some kind of rapport with the woman she’d be following around for the next few weeks. “I’m of the opinion that things are rarely as simple as they seem from the outside, that’s all.”

“Well,” Lena said, looking pleasantly surprised and offering Kara a grin (a real one, one that touched her eyes and transformed her face), “perhaps that’s why I agreed to you doing this.”

“You’re one of Ms. Luthor’s closest friends, is that right?”

“Yes.”

“Since before your daughter was born?”

“Yup.”

“So would you say you know her quite well?”

“Sure.”

“Do you plan on answering any of my questions with more than one word?”

“Nope.”

“Okay. So, in one word I suppose, how would you describe Ms. Luthor to a stranger?”

“Flawless.”

The rules of her arrangement with Lena were rather simple. For the next several weeks, Lena consented to having Kara around from the moment she woke up to the moment she went to sleep. In return, Kara was not allowed in certain meetings at L-Corp, was not allowed to bring her camera with her at all when Lena went down to R&D, and if Lena asked for her to stop filming at any point, Kara was bound to immediately do so and erase any footage she may have inadvertently captured.

For the first two days of the arrangement, it was actually rather boring. Lena was awake before the crack of dawn, she didn’t acknowledge Kara’s presence as she made coffee and toast (though she did push a cup and a plate towards Kara), and then spent the next fifteen or so hours in her office, sifting through papers, answering phone calls and responding to emails, and forgetting meals. It wasn’t until the third day that Lena’s routine changed slightly.

She received a phone call at breakfast, and whoever it was caused a bright red blush to bloom on her cheeks. Kara zoomed in slightly on Lena’s face as she answered the call. “Now’s not really a good time, Sam,” she began, falling silent at whatever this Sam was saying on the other end. Lena’s eyes flitted over towards Kara, but to her surprise, she didn’t ask for Kara to shut off the camera. “That sounds terrible,” she said, sounding truly apologetic, something about her countenance changing. She seemed softer, more open, calmer than Kara had seen her yet. “And Ruby was so excited too.” Lena fell silent once more, nodding almost as if unaware of it. “I agree with her,” Lena suddenly laughed, still nodding, “it’s not fair at all. But there’s no way I’m not going to visit. Do you want me to bring anything?” Lena laughed again, and Kara wondered if her camera was capturing the change she was witnessing with her own eyes. “As if I could forget Ruby’s chocolate.” A pause. “Give her all my love.” Another pause, a tiny smile on Lena’s lips. “All right, I will. Bye.” As she hung up, she looked over at Kara, as if daring her to comment, everything about her shuttering at once.

“Who was that?” Kara asked, not really expecting an answer. To her surprise, however, Lena’s eyes flitted to the camera and she let out a soft, resigned sigh.

“That was my CFO, Sam Arias,” she answered, her tone a complete 180 from what she was using on the phone. She studied Kara for a moment and must have read something on her face, because her shoulders deflated and she motioned towards her phone. “Sam is my best friend. Her daughter, Ruby, is my goddaughter. We were supposed to go to the animal shelter today.” Lena smiled softly, almost as if unaware of it. “She’s finally convinced Sam she’s responsible enough for a pet. It’s actually—” Lena stopped suddenly, her eyes shifting to the camera once more, any warmth that had managed to leak out dissipating at once. “In any case, she’s sick. So we’ll have to reschedule.” She waved her hand towards the camera. “Can you turn that off, please?”

“Uh, yeah, of course,” Kara said quickly, making a show of turning the Camcorder off and setting it aside. “Is something wrong?”

Lena shook her head, leaning against her kitchen counter as she eyed Kara with something like curiosity. “You know, I’ve seen all of your other work,” she said after a moment, frowning at Kara like she was a puzzle she couldn’t figure out.

(Had she? Seen all of Kara’s work? A part of Kara was curious as to how, after all, most of her stuff was tucked away in a closet back in Midvale, waiting to be opened up and viewed during Christmas, when Alex would laugh at the films she’d made in high school about how the boys’ sports teams were unfairly given more attention than the girls’. The others were projects for her degree and one or two failed attempts to get a real production company to take the risk on her.

In fact, if not for Cat Grant’s decision as ‘The Queen of All Media’ to get involved in filmmaking, funding a project from a no-name creator, Kara wasn’t even sure she’d have the film she was making now.)

“Oh,” she said inarticulately, not quite sure how to word what she was really thinking. How rich did you have to be to be able to bribe anyone into giving you anything?

Lena nodded carefully, her face a perfect mask. If not for the way her eyes followed Kara’s every movement, Kara would’ve even thought that Lena was bored. “You’re very fond of certain themes. Hope. Love. Endless optimism in the best of humanity.” She said it like it was a bad thing. And it was suddenly Kara’s turn to lean forward on the opposite end of the counter, feeling her head tilt to the side questioningly.

“Is that what you got from my films?” she asked, genuinely curious.

Lena seemed wary of the question, standing up straight and crossing her arms over her chest defensively. “Isn’t that what you intended?”

“You know,” Kara said slowly, “I don’t actually believe in all that creator’s intent nonsense. I think we search for parts of ourselves when we consume art. So if that’s what you got from my films, that says more about you than it does about me.”

If anything, this seemed to offend Lena. “So you’d deny having any sort of intent with your work? What about making something with meaning?”

Kara laughed, shaking her head. “That’s not what I mean, and besides, who says art has to mean anything?”

“Of course art means something,” Lena argued, narrowing her eyes at Kara. “What’s the point of doing it if it doesn’t mean anything?”

Kara shrugged easily, giving Lena a small smile. “I disagree. I think art says something. But meaning is up to the people who consume it.” She picked up her camera and pointed it at Lena without turning it on. “Doesn’t matter what I intended to say with my films, you got meaning from it. So I’d say there was a point in making it, don’t you think?”

Lena eyed her for a moment, apparently not liking that Kara wasn’t giving her an answer, wasn’t telling her what she was trying to say with her work. But then, after several long seconds, she relented, letting out a chuckle and shaking her head. “Well, fine,” she said, her smile touching her eyes. “As long as you don’t try to say anything silly like hope, love, or endless optimism in the best of humanity with this film.”

“I’m afraid I can’t change who you are, Ms. Luthor,” Kara said softly, turning her camera on and effectively cutting off any response Lena may have had.

(And when she looks at the footage weeks later, she’ll freeze that frame, breath catching at the look on Lena’s face: the softness of her eyes, the curve of her lips, and the pleasantly confused crinkle between her brows.)

“Do you spend a lot of time with your godmother?”

“Oh yeah, loads! She’s great.”

“What sort of things do you do with her?”

“I mean, normal stuff? She takes me to get ice cream all the time. The other day, she rented that new horror movie that came out and watched it with me when I stayed over. My mom went nuts when she found out.”

“So you like her?”

“No, of course not. I love Lena. She’s my aunt, you know? She’s family.”

“And if you had the chance, what would you want the world to know about her?”

“That she cares, so much. And that she’s funny and super smart and helps me with homework and after my mom she’s the very best person I know.”

The visit to Luthor Children’s Hospital was, as far as Kara was aware, unplanned and in fact gave Jess a great deal of anxiety. For her part, Kara was mostly frustrated and annoyed, wondering if this film was worth it at all. Because Lena Luthor seemed to be asking Kara to turn off the camera more and more, especially when her day deviated at all and she was forced to leave her office.

(Walks in the park, lunches with her goddaughter, a touching moment with the child of one of her employees...all locked away somewhere in Kara’s memory, but destined to remain there instead of on film, where it should be.)

She huffed a little bit as she leaned against the wall, watching Lena walk quickly towards the group of nurses and doctors. She didn’t say anything when Jess joined her, a contemplative look on her face. “She always does this,” Jess told Kara after a long silence, rolling her eyes fondly. “She’ll cancel meetings last minute because she heard one of the kids in the hemoc ward has finished treatment or that they’re out of toys to give to the new patients.”

“Why isn’t there any press if she does this often?” Kara asked, turning to Jess but watching Lena out of the corner of her eye. She was talking to one of the doctors now, looking comically out of place with her designer clothes while surrounded by colorful artwork by kids that littered the walls of the Children’s Hospital.

Jess fixed Kara with an unimpressed look. “You’ve met her, right?” she asked rhetorically. “She goes out of her way to hide these visits. She says that she has to keep it under wraps because she wants to keep it about the kids and not her. But I think the truth is she’s just worried people would mistreat the kids and their families for allowing a ‘Luthor’ within ten feet of them.”

“Oh,” Kara said dumbly, a little stunned by the new information, and feeling guilty for her thoughts earlier. “That’s...awful.”

“I’m not telling you this for nothing, you know,” Jess continued, frowning at Kara. “She’s been avoiding lots of her usual charitable work since you’ve been around. The whole point of this was to get everyone else to see the real Lena Luthor, but she’s ruining it by being humble and noble.”

(Kara wanted to groan, roll her eyes, or better yet go over to Lena herself and shake her until she understood what Kara’s job was.

How was she supposed to make a documentary about Lena Luthor if Lena Luthor was so determined to hide herself away from the world?)

“What would you have me do?” she asked, not voicing her frustration, though it seeped into her tone anyway. “We have a deal, and she doesn’t want me to film these things.”

Jess shook her head, looking terribly unimpressed by the answer. “Don’t you have artistic integrity? Would you allow anyone else to boss you around and tell you what you could and couldn’t film?”

Kara looked over at Lena, who was now smiling at a young boy who had ambled up to her with his mother and infusion pump stand in tow. She watched as Lena actually dropped to her knees to talk to the boy, nodding vigorously at whatever he was saying. After a long moment, she turned back to Jess and shook her head. “No,” she said finally. “I guess I wouldn’t.”

And after Jess had given her another significant look before walking off, Kara raised her camera and began to film.

“Mr. Spheer, you’re an ex of Lena Luthor’s, right?”

“Ah, I see this documentary is quite personal. Are you sure that Lena is okay with this sort of thing going into her movie?”

“Well, it’s my movie. But she’s free to ask me to take things out.”

“Fascinating. Yes, I am Lena’s ex. I was quite brokenhearted when she broke it off to move to National City.”

“Oh, she broke it off?”

“So curious, Ms. Danvers. Perhaps you’re interested in something beyond a mere film?”

“W-what? No, that’s—please be serious, Mr. Spheer—”

“It’s Jack to you, my dear. What else do you need to know about Lena? Her favorite flowers are plumerias, her favorite food is—”

“—oh that’s really not necessary. If we could just focus on who Lena is as a person. A friend. A former girlfriend?”

“Hmm, yes. Well, just imagine your perfect woman, Ms. Danvers.”

“Oh, um, I—”

“—exactly, you see Lena. That’s an universal experience, I’m afraid. Lena is simply...too good for this world.”

“So you’d say the treatment she gets by the public is unfair?”

“It’s unfair how much people attack pineapple on pizza, Ms. Danvers. The way they speak of Lena without knowing her? That’s a pure travesty.”

They were about ten days into filming when Kara saw Lena relax for the first time.

She was using the word ‘relax’ rather loosely, of course. Lena didn’t do what Kara did after a long week—put on a pair of sweatpants, order loads of junk food, and watch so much Netflix that it eventually felt the need to ask her if she was still watching. In fact, Lena’s idea of relaxing was more work. Just, fun work.

She was dressed in jeans and a blue shirt, knees pulled up to her chest as she sat at her desk, mumbling under her breath as she did whatever she was doing. (She hadn’t bothered to explain to Kara, had just sighed and acquiesced to the presence of the camera in her home office.) Perched precariously at the tip of her nose were a thick black pair of glasses, her hair falling to her shoulders in gentle waves.

She looked different. Softer, somehow. Gone was all the trappings of a badass CEO, and all that was left was a clever (and beautiful) young woman, working on the things she loved in her spare time.

Kara zoomed in slightly, focusing on Lena’s face, on the furrow between her brows, her lips twisted in concentration. There was something there, something different, and Kara just wanted to—

“Is that camera heavy?” Lena asked, looking up suddenly, a curious expression on her face. She was good at that, the polite looks, gently asking for more information. Tiny eyebrow raises, nearly imperceptible softening of her eyes, lips quirked the slightest bit, all intended to disarm her quarry, making them drop their guard long enough that they give everything held close to their chest away.

“Not really,” Kara answered, grinning at Lena. This made the other woman blink in surprise, clearly not the response she was looking for, that expression on her face shifting suddenly, becoming more calculating. “I work out,” Kara went on to explain, shrugging easily, careful not to jostle the camera. “Besides, it’s not that heavy, I think about five pounds.”

“What kind of camera do you use?”

“Oh, it’s a Panasonic AG-HVX—” she cut herself off. “It’s not that interesting.” Kara adjusted her glasses and made sure Lena’s face was still in focus. Somehow, this made Lena’s tiny smile reappear. She stood up and circled her desk, and Kara was forced to back away to maintain focus.

“You love filming, don’t you?” Lena asked, and Kara blinked, not quite sure where she was going with this.

“Ms. Luthor, as I’m sure you’re aware, this film is about you.”

If she thought this would in any way cow Lena, she was wrong. Lena just grinned, looking like she’d somehow won something.

“Do you know what I don’t understand?” she said with faux casualness, crossing her arms and tapping a finger against her elbow. “Why would you, someone Cat Grant speaks so highly of, be willing to agree to this assignment? Something most people wouldn’t touch with a ten foot pole.”

Kara frowned, not thinking as she responded. “It wasn’t assigned, Ms. Luthor. I pitched the idea. I wanted to do this.” Lena’s words sank in a moment later. “Wait. Cat Grant spoke highly of me?”

“Why?” Lena asked, no longer smiling.

Kara blinked at the change in tone. “Why what?” she asked, genuinely confused. This was, apparently, the wrong answer, because Lena chose that moment to begin pacing in front of her desk, looking more than a little bothered.

“I don’t get it,” she said as she paced. “I tried to figure it out, looked into you, into your work. I thought maybe you were doing this to build fame, but I’ve seen your work and even without a movie about the last Luthor, I have no doubt you’ll be very popular—”

“Oh, that’s nice of you, thank y—”

“—then I thought maybe you have a vendetta against my family and just want me to look bad,” Lena continued, barreling over Kara’s words and ignoring her entirely, “but the only connection between you and my family is your cousin, Clark Kent, and he’s the journalist who broke the story on my brother, so if anything I should dislike you—”

“That’s not exactly...Clark and I aren’t—”

“—so I really need you to explain it to me. Why did you want to make this film?” She paused her brisk pacing as she asked the question, meeting Kara’s eyes with a fierce look, one Kara was infinitely glad she was capturing on film. Because this, this glint in Lena’s eyes, was why Kara wanted to do this.

“Do you remember the speech you gave when you came to National City?” Kara asked, and judging from the way Lena’s eyebrows rose in response, she was rather thrown by the question. “Because I do. I watched it maybe a few dozen times. All those horrible questions, all the absolute certainty that you were like your brother, and you kept your head up and you promised to prove them all wrong, to make up for what he did.” Kara sighed, shutting off the camera and setting it aside gently. “I’ve never seen anything quite like it. I was...interested. I wanted to see more.”

“And?”

“And what?”

“Did I meet your expectations? Disappoint you? What?”

Kara smiled, unable to help it. “Does my opinion on you really matter?”

“Do you always answer a question with another question?” Lena shot back, eyes narrowing.

Kara’s smile just widened and she began to gather her things, preparing to leave for the night. Impressively, Lena didn’t question her further, just watched her then followed her to the door, looking rather cross. Pausing briefly to adjust her glasses and the strap of her bag, Kara turned suddenly and met Lena’s eyes. “You exceeded them. My expectations, that is,” Kara added when Lena offered only a quizzical look in response.

For a moment, Lena didn’t react, then that same look from her office—the softness of her eyes, the curve of her lips, and the pleasantly confused crinkle between her brows—overtook her expression, and she let out a laugh.

“Well, good then.”

“You went to boarding school with Ms. Luthor?”

“I don’t think that’s public knowledge, how do you know that?”

“Um, Ms. Arias told me about you. She mentioned your relationship with Ms. Luthor is unique.”

“Well, Sam would know, wouldn’t she?”

“Ms. Rojas, if you don’t want to speak to me, you don’t have to.”

“It’s fine. Look, Lena and I have been estranged for a while now. I...I did something to break her trust.”

“So would you say that Ms. Luthor is difficult to get along with?”

“No, I’d say that Lena values things like honesty and trust, and—you know that Austen novel? With the man who says that once you lose his good opinion, it’s gone forever?”

“Pride and Prejudice?”

“Exactly. Lena is like that.”

“Ms. Luthor is like Mr. Darcy?”

“No, she’s classic. No matter what’s going on, she’ll endure.”

“So...you were the one difficult to get along with?”

“Have you ever thought about taking your work to a whole new level, Kara? How do you feel about virtual reality?”

“Oh, um, I don’t have particular thoughts? But I’d love to know yours about Ms. Luthor. For the film.”

“She won’t believe this, or that I’m saying it coercion free, but Lena is...a visionary. More than that, she’s just a decent person. Which is more than most of us can say, don’t you think?”

After their conversation, Lena opened up dramatically.

(Well, dramatically was a stretch, but considering how closed off she’d been before, the difference was rather drastic.)

Kara filmed Lena’s visit to an animal shelter, capturing the way her fingers gently ran over the fur of the dog that immediately trotted over to her, placing its head in her lap. Lena had then explained that she went to shelters often, just to volunteer, as she was unable to adopt for fear of not having time to give the dog the attention it deserved.

Later that week, Lena let Kara stay later than usual, putting on some music as she got to cooking, going as far as to teach Kara the basics of the dish, laughing when Kara admitted that her skill in the kitchen was limited to making sandwiches. At one point she grabbed the camera and set it aside, dragging Kara into the kitchen, giving instructions and lessons as she swayed her hips to the music.

(It was silly, it was lighthearted, it was fun, and Kara couldn’t help it.

She forgot she was there to make a film.)

And as the days and weeks dragged on, when Lena showed off her skills at the piano—apologetically explaining she hadn’t had time to really play in months—or when she told Kara about her very ‘nerdy’ stamp collection or even when Lena seemed to ignore there was a camera between them and she began to talk about her day and her hopes for the weekend, Kara forgot that it was a job. She forgot that she was supposed to be making something, paying attention to more than Lena’s smile or the way her eyes lit up whenever she mentioned work she was particularly passionate about.

Somewhere along the way, Kara cared more about the opportunity to spend time with Lena than she did the film itself.

More worryingly, that realization didn’t even bother her.

“Why filmmaking?” Lena asked one morning, pushing coffee and toast towards Kara with a tiny smile. The camera was still in its bag, untouched since Kara had arrived nearly an hour earlier. “Why not journalism like your cousin?”

“My cousin and I,” Kara began awkwardly, adjusting her glasses, “well, our relationship is a little strained, I guess.” She didn’t need the slight tilt of Lena’s head to know that Lena wanted her to keep going, to explain further. She let out a soft chuckle and rubbed her forehead with the tips of her fingers. “Um, so my parents died when I was twelve. And Clark sort of...left me? I went to live with the Danvers instead, and they bought me a camera for my birthday.” Kara grinned at the very memory, still able to feel its weight in her hand, the eyepiece against her eye. “It was one of those old camcorders, do you remember? The ones with the tapes? I drove them nuts, filming literally everything. I don’t think they ever saw my face for the first few months I was with them, it was constantly behind the camera.” She didn’t explain why she wanted to document every moment with her new family, but judging from the way Lena’s eyes softened, she understood anyway. “From there it became serious. I started making films. School projects, etc. Now I’m here.”

“Why documentaries? Why not something like...oh, I don’t know, action movies?” Lena prodded, looking curious, looking interested, looking like the answer mattered.

Kara just shrugged, suddenly not able to look Lena in the eye. “I guess there’s a part of me that wanted to take after Clark.”

“How long have you been working for Ms. Luthor?”

“Um, this December will make seven years.”

“As her assistant, you have remarkable access to her. What’s she like?”

“Driven, ambitious, works way too hard. I don’t think she’s ever taken a holiday or even a break...but um, maybe don’t say that in the film.”

“Artistic integrity, remember? She works hard, that’s clear. But what about personally? Her relationship with you and the other employees? What kind of boss is she?”

“She cares a lot. A few years ago, before Lex Luthor, well. You know. Before all that, LuthorCorp was facing serious losses. Mr. Luthor wanted to just get rid of entire departments, but Ms. Luthor said the research was vital, and more than that, the researchers were important. She convinced her brother to keep them on—she won’t admit it, but it was more than being persuasive. She paid for it out of her own pocket.”

“So you’d say she’s charitable?”

“No, she’s passionate. And she fights for the things she believes in. Ms. Luthor likes to say that charity implies pity, and she doesn’t do anything out of pity. She just does what’s right by people.”

“Some would disagree, they’d argue that LuthorCorp, and by extension its new iteration, L-Corp, don’t care about people, but about profits. Do you think that’s a fair assessment of the company you’ve devoted seven years to?”

“Look. I get it, people are suspicious of L-Corp because it used to be LuthorCorp. But it’s not just a name change. When Lena took over, she gutted her company. There’s not a single program left from Mr. Luthor’s time as CEO. L-Corp is all Ms. Luthor.”

“So if L-Corp is Ms. Luthor, who is Ms. Luthor?”

“She’s a woman who’s been hurt all her life, Kara Danvers, and whose only goal is to keep as many people as she can from hurting too. Sometimes I just wish she realized she doesn’t deserve to be hurt anymore either.”

“Oh.”

“Also, I don’t care about your artistic integrity, that last bit does not go in the film.”

One afternoon, when Kara was dangerously close to dozing off on the couch in Lena’s office—camera turned off and set aside, not really needing more footage of Lena working at her desk—Lena suddenly jumped to her feet, an excited gleam in her eyes.

“They’ve done it,” she said, the smile forming on her lips so wide that Kara found herself smiling back.

“Done what?” Kara asked, fairly sure this would lead to Lena’s refrain of ‘that’s company business and I’m afraid you’re not privy to that information’ but instead, Lena looked at her appraisingly, then rolled her eyes.

“If I allow you to bring your camera in R&D, do you swear not to film my ongoing projects?”

“You’re going to let me film in R&D?” Kara said excitedly, jumping to her feet and grabbing her camera.

“Kara, do you swear?”

“Yes, yes, of course, Ms. Luthor. I absolutely swear.”

And the next thing Kara knew, she was filming in the one place she’d been told was off-limits, capturing the lab and Lena talking to her researchers animatedly about the advancement they’d made in gene therapy, not entirely surprised when Lena shoved the scientists towards Kara and urged them to brag about their achievement—while also warning them to be as vague as possible—and then sank into the background, clearly thrilled to have her scientists as the center of attention.

And later, when Lena decided to actually take a lunch hour as a ‘reward’ for the great strides L-Corp had made, she took Kara along, bought three different appetizers, and smiled her wide smile before she said, “It’s Lena, by the way. Just Lena.”

Mouth still bulging with the three potstickers she’d practically inhaled, Kara couldn’t manage much more than a nod, but later—when she was alone—she tried saying the name aloud, and it sent a shiver down her spine.

“Mrs. Luthor—”

“It’s doctor, actually.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Dr. Luthor. You adopted Ms. Luthor when she was four, is that correct?”

“I’m afraid I don’t have time for this nonsense. I consented to this interview only to say one thing: Lena was always the more clever of my children, but she’s foolish and soft, and this silly film is yet another example of that.”

“You agreed to meet with me to just say...that. Okay. That’s um. Fine.”

As the weeks dragged on, Kara had little reason to continue filming. Her deadline with Cat Grant was fast approaching, and she had more than enough footage. All that really remained was editing, of putting the final pieces together. But she found herself filming anyway.

Every day, she’d make her way to Lena’s apartment, making flimsy excuses about how certain footage was no good, or had been corrupted, and that she needed retakes of Lena doing ordinary things (like reading the paper, cooking dinner, or talking about her day). She knew that Lena could tell her excuses were just that, but mercifully, Lena didn’t seem to want to call her out on it, merely gave soft reminders not to stay up so late every night to edit (the ‘you could just as easily stop wasting your time here and be editing during normal hours’ going unsaid).

(Jess had rolled her eyes when Kara came by L-Corp and Lena mentioned offhandedly that Kara somehow hadn’t gotten a shot of Lena entering her building in all the time she’d shadowed the CEO, and wasn’t that odd?)

But what Kara knew, what made her stretch out these moments as long as she possibly could, was that once the final product popped into existence, once she showed Lena and got her okay to send off to Cat Grant, that was it.

No more Lena.

And that terrified her.

(So she gathered more footage, fruitlessly hoping that the final product would never be ready, dragging her feet at every step.

She edited, studying Lena’s every expression, tried to pinpoint the exact moment she’d started to fall for the not-so-detached CEO extraordinaire, and wished it didn’t all have to come to an end.)

Two days after Kara had sent Lena the finished film, she got a curt email from the CEO herself with only three words: come see me.

Jess gave no indication about how her boss was feeling when Kara arrived, merely stared evenly at Kara and gestured with her head for her to just go on in. When Kara tried to ask her, Jess shook her head, pointed at the door to Lena’s office, and made a shooing gesture.

“It’s odd to see you without a camera,” Lena said when Kara sat down across from her, trying to keep her hands from fidgeting.

“It’s odd to be in here without a camera.” Kara took a deep breath. “Did you watch it?” she blurted, unable to keep it in. “What did you think?”

“You’re really fond of certain themes,” Lena said, then she raised her eyebrow. “You also filmed quite a bit when I had asked you not to.”

“Artistic integrity?” Kara tried, and Lena...laughed.

“I don’t know if I agree with the way you portrayed me,” she said slowly as her amusement faded. “You took a lot of liberties.”

“I was very faithful to the subject of the film, Lena.”

“What do you think you were trying to say?” Lena asked, waving off Kara’s comment.

“What meaning did you get from it?”

Lena studied her for a moment, as if she was trying to read Kara’s mind. “I’m not some selfless genius, Kara.”

“Is that what you think the film is saying?” Kara asked her, not rising to the obvious bait. “Like I said, Lena. I was very faithful to the subject of the film.” For a long moment, Lena didn’t respond, and Kara felt the worry she’d managed to push away since sending the film to Lena creep back in. “Does this mean you don’t approve of the film?”

“Hmm?” Lena said, distracted. “No, I’ve already sent it along to Cat Grant, giving my okay. Even though you broke our agreement, I can’t deny the final result was very favorable to me.”

“I wouldn’t have made something that wasn’t completely true,” Kara said, somewhat hotly, most of her irritation bleeding away with the knowledge that Cat Grant was in possession of the final product, that the rest was up to her.

Lena smiled, eyes soft, and she nodded her head almost incredulously. “No, you wouldn’t. I know that.” She cleared her throat, seeming a bit nervous. “But I was thinking. I’ve been missing our talks about your work, and I know you don’t like talking about what you’ve made, but perhaps you’d make an exception for me. Would you be willing to give me a private showing of your film? Give me all the insider secrets? I know your subject quite well, it would be a fun exercise.”

Kara’s heart slammed to a stop, the jump-started at the sight of Lena’s amused eyes, that tiny curve of her lips. “A private showing, huh?” Kara mumbled, feeling a little dazed. “I still won’t tell you what I was trying to say.”

“That’s completely fair.”

“But I suppose I could give you some insight on my thoughts.”

“Only if you wanted.”

“It may have to be more than one session,” Kara said, trying and failing to stop the spread of her smile. “There’s a lot of footage you know.”

“So it’s a date?” Lena asked, and Kara couldn’t help her eager nod.

“It’s definitely a date.”

#thank you so much!#supercorp #fanfic

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shyficwriter · 3 years

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Temporary Home: Chapter 17

Guardians of the Galaxy fanfic | Reader x Guardians (With Yondu and Kraglin!)

Summary: Peter, grasping for straws to remain 'The Prank Master,' thinks he's found a way to annoy you into conceding. Unfortunately, and unbeknownst to him, what he's found is something much worse.

Previous Chapter here | Next Chapter Here Or click here to: Start From Beginning

Author’s Note: Content Warning for descriptions/mentions of PTSD and flashbacks. Also, for my records this chapter ends on day 34 of the Guardians living with reader. Enjoy!

Word Count: 6,761

Red covered your mouth and nose, all over your hand, and a bit on your sheets. You blearily tried to gather your senses, tried to open your eyes against the unforgiving light that blinded you.

Peter stood over you, laughing. Telling you that you got what was coming to you as you groaned.

That fecker had put ketchup in your hand while you slept and then tickled your nose with one of the fuzzy-tipped novelty pens on your desk. The dickhead.

"Ugh! Gross! Dude!?" you complain, sitting up and reaching over to grab the tissues off your desk so you could clean yourself up.

"Serves you right for what you did to me!" Peter countered, gesturing to the blue staining his body. He began to walk out of your room, making sure to let you know that you shouldn't expect the two of you were even.

You roll your eyes and continue wiping the ketchup-y mess off of you. You glance down at your sheets and realized you'd need to wash them today too. Great. Guess this is what you got for sleeping-in.

Once you had finally cleaned yourself up you gathered your sheets to take them downstairs to wash them, but not before making a pit-stop to Peter's room. Wanting to make the trip quick you grabbed the first thing you could find- his comb- and pocketed it. It was about to have a date with some jelly.

As you turned to leave his room you saw Rocket standing in the hall just outside the door.

With a knowing grin he asked, "Whatcha doin' there?"

"Nothing," you answer flatly, gathering your sheets back up.

He let you pass but said, "So I guess I didn't just see you steal Quill's comb, then?" There was amusement in his voice.

"He'll get it back," you answer, not pausing in your walk towards the stairs.

"What do you plan on doing to it?" he asked, intrigued. He had no intents to squeal on you. This prank-y-ness was a side of you he had been pleasantly surprised to see. Much better the the stiff agent-type you usually liked to display. Had he maybe misjudged you?

"The less you know the better," you answered, continuing down the stairs.

No witnesses. Rocket liked your style. Maybe you didn't have such a stick up your butt after all.

***

You threw your sheets in the washer and put the kettle on. It was time to make some jelly.

While waiting for the kettle you grabbed the packet of jelly from the pantry and something quick for breakfast. Deciding on a granola bar, you go to pull one from the box when you also notice that all your spices had been flipped upside down. Obviously Peter's doing. That's also when you remember that you had hidden the rest of the food dye behind the spices, prompting you to give a quick peek to see that the box was still there.

It wasn't.

Peter must have found it while setting up his prank and took them, intent on making the two of you "even."

Crap.

The kettle began to whistle and you pulled yourself out of your thoughts of doom to start fixing the jelly. You could think about the dye later. Right now you had mischief to make.

You mix up the jelly in a glass bowl, adding in an extra packet of gelatin to make sure the shape would hold later. Then, looking around to make sure no one was around, you take Peter's comb out of your pocket and drop it in. The bowl was just big enough for the comb to catch on the sides roughly about halfway deep in the jelly water, so that when you turned it out it would be nicely suspended in the green jelly. You then quickly take the bowl to the fridge to set, burying it in the back on the bottom shelf so it hopefully wouldn't be seen.

Then you simply went about your day as normal.

***

Other than several bad puns, Peter surprisingly didn't attempt much to annoy you that day, and you had no doubts that it was because he was confident that he'd be able to return the favor in dyeing you an odd color when you showered tonight.

Not if you had anything to say about it.

Too bad for him he had no way to know that you knew, and you were confident that you could deal with it when that time came if you paid enough attention. For now you were just going to act none-the-wiser, and accept his invitation to watch a show with the others.

You settled in on the couch and the episode starts. It's a title you haven't heard of before.

Watching it you gathered it was a type of mystery/detective/thriller type that was somehow also a comedy. A detective was accused of killing this old lady, and he was on the run to try and prove his innocence. Lots of action, a bunch of red-herrings, overall not a bad show so far if you had to judge by this episode.

Then there was the end-scene.

The detective finally found the actual murderer, the mayor, and after tricking him into broadcasting his confession over the radio in this abandoned radio station- where he somehow had managed to make a broadcast work- the two fight. Only the mayor has a gun, and the detective's fell into a storm drain two scenes ago.

Through his cunning the detective manages to escape alive, but not unharmed. He's got a compound fracture to his leg. Cops are on the scene and arresting the mayor after surrounding him at gunpoint, and ambulances can be heard in the background.

You feel the hair on your arms stand up.

The sound of the sirens just keeps getting louder.

You swallow, your throat suddenly dry.

They get louder. You look away from the screen into your lap.

All you can hear now is sirens. You don't realize they've already stopped on the screen. There's now instead dialogue, a conversation between characters, but you are unaware of it.

Your hands clench into fists, nails digging into your palms. You fight the images in your head. You don't want to see them. You hear sounds of tearing metal. Sirens. Screaming. Beeping. Your breathing gets shallow and you work to keep it quiet. You had to fight it back. Sirens. Bright lights. Glass shattering. Screaming. Sirens. You keep saying to yourself inside your mind that it's ok. You're ok. But what about-

Kraglin makes a comment to Yondu about something said on screen. You don't hear him. You only hear the sirens. God, why won't they stop? Screeching. Sirens. Blinding lights. Sirens.

Yondu turns to reply to Kraglin, but sees you looking strange. He raises an eyebrow, which Kraglin notices. He follows Yondu's gaze and sees you staring into your lap, body rigid, hands balled tightly into fists. Your eyes are wide, but unseeing. Your jaw is set.

Before either of them can say a word the buzzer on the washer goes off and you seem to jolt out of it, quickly hopping up and making your way out of the room.

Yondu and Kraglin share a look. What was that about?

***

You didn't return for another episode. Instead, you decided it was a nice enough day to hang your washing on the line. It hardly took you any time at all to finish, but you decide to stay outside for a bit anyways. Fresh air and all that.

Everything was fine. You were ok.

When you finally come back in it's well after a suitable lunchtime, and realizing that the only thing you had today was a granola bar, you decide to cut up an apple and sit at the table, scrolling on your phone as you eat.

Yondu comes into the kitchen for a drink and joins you at the table. "Where'd you go runnin' off to?" he asks, "Decide you didn't like the show?" What he really wanted to ask was what had prompted that look in your eyes earlier, but he knew better than to just come out an ask. You'd just deny anything had happened.

"Had laundry to dry," you answer, not looking up from your phone.

"Ya were gone an awful long time for laundry." Yondu said, not missing that you completely ignored his question about the show. But the question still bugged him. He recognized the look in your eyes back then. He remembered sometimes catching it in the eyes of some of the older battle slaves in the barracks when he was younger. It was the look one had when they were flashing back to something horrific they had been through. He and the other younger battle slaves were always told by other elders to leave those be when they were "stuck in it", as they would say. Don't disturb them. They'll come out of it. Nothing for it but to let it pass.

That never did sit right with him.

"It's a nice day. Thought I'd enjoy it," you answered.

Yondu hummed shortly. You weren't giving him anything, and he knew you wouldn't.

He decided not to press it for now, but he could tell something had triggered that response from you, he just didn't know what. He suspected it had something to do with whatever it was that you kept locked away inside. He had clues and suspicions as to what, but of course he couldn't be sure, though he was more determined now than he had previously been to figure you out. Only one thing was certain. You had pain inside you. A lot of it. No one should have to go through that alone.

***

Kraglin, unlike Yondu, wasn't nearly as subtle when he saw you next. However, he wouldn't get any further.

"Mind if I help?" he asked, joining you in the garden where you were pulling a few weeds.

"Go for it," you reply, barely looking up. There weren't many to pull, as it was starting to get cooler lately. You mostly just came out for something to do. Soon it'd be time to harvest the whole garden.

The two of you work in silence for a bit. Then, Kraglin asks, "So, um, was you alright earlier? I mean, saw that ya looked mighty shaken when we was watching that show."

"Don't know what you're talking about," you answer, standing up and tossing the weeds you picked over to the compost bucket.

Kraglin looked up to meet your gaze, frowning. He was about to say something along the lines that you were full of shit, but he stopped himself when he saw your stern expression. You weren't just denying it. With just those few words, combined with the subtly hard look on your face, you were outright telling him that he didn't see whatever it was that he thought he saw.

He exhaled out his nose and just gave you a look that said that he didn't believe you, but he wouldn't push it. He could see that you would just shut him out, and he felt like it wasn't his place to press it.

Suddenly a gunshot rang out, breaking the awkward silence and causing you both to jump.

You sigh, not appreciating the jolt, and said, "Damn hunters."

Kraglin nodded and tried to take this distraction as an opportunity to change the subject. If you wouldn't open up, maybe he could try and make you smile instead. "So... nice job on dyeing Pete blue last night. Real funny."

"I certainly thought so," you said.

He almost thought he saw you crack a smile. Wanting to bring about a full grin he decided to tell a story. "Yeah, it was just like this time Pete rigged a dye pack up in one of Yondu's drawers, I think he mentioned it last night. Anyway, so somehow Pete rigs it up, I think he got mad at Cap'n for making him scrub the grease traps or somethin', but anyway then Yondu goes to open his drawer one mornin,' yeah? And he's blasted in the face with this red dye. Ohhh boy! He was madder than a muzzled Flerken!!"

The mental image was enough to make your lips curl up involuntarily.

Kraglin noted this and continued, "What's worse is he had to meet with some lady client the next day about a job, and he couldn't get it off. He was this funny shade of purple for over a week!"

A short laugh suddenly breaks through your throat and you look at him. "Really?" you ask, mirth in your eyes. The mental image of the blue man looking quite cross and splattered purple while trying to commit space pirate business dealings was a humorous one.

"Yeah. He grounded Pete for so long after that." Kraglin replied, chuckling.

"I'll bet," you say as you stand up and brush yourself off, now finished with weeding and prepared to go inside. "Thanks. For helping in the garden, I mean." you say.

Kraglin also stands. "Not a problem, ma'am."

You wince and shake you head as you turn back to the house. You thought of telling him to knock it off with the 'ma'am' stuff, but you were concerned with what might replace it. So you left it alone for now.

***

You were on alert when you got ready for your shower that evening. You knew Peter had plenty of opportunity to have tampered with your bath products, but you played it cool. Acted unaware.

The plan? Beat him at his own game.

First you turned on the shower and let it run. You cupped your hands beneath the stream to make sure the water wasn't an odd color.

All clear.

You get into the shower, deciding to inspect your shampoo and conditioner bottles first. You felt it was unlikely he'd put it in those, as it would be unlikely to have a decent enough payoff for him, but you still checked just in case. Your shampoo bottle was see-through and the liquid inside clear, so it was obvious it had gone untampered. You went ahead and used it.

Time for conditioner. Unscrewing the top you look inside the conditioner. Completely white. Untampered. Good.

Finally you checked your body wash. It was a rose scented type and was already colored pink. If he was was going to strike anywhere, it would likely be there with the red dye. You squirted a little into a rag to test it on your hip, an inconspicuous area. You didn't even need to use it before you realized you were right. The body wash came out much darker than usual. It was like he hadn't even mixed it. Actually, that's likely exactly what he did. He probably wanted to make sure as much dye got on you as possible and so just squirted it right on top. Just out of curiosity, however, you still tested it.

Yep. It left a red steak right on your hip. You catch a glance at Peter's bottle on the shower shelf, and grin.

Silly Peter. He shouldn't have forgotten his bottle in the shower. Again.

You reach out of the shower for a new washcloth, and use some of his body wash instead. Of course, not before testing it on the first rag to make sure it wasn't left behind on purpose as a trap. It wasn't. The test proved it free of dye and safe to use.

For now.

Once you finished washing you then unscrewed the top off of Peter's bottle and carefully poured in as much of the dye from the top of your tampered bottle as you could without getting it on your hands. You had to sacrifice a little of the soap down the drain just to make sure it would come out clean the next time you used it.

Was he sure to notice? Probably, but you didn't care. You'd be just as happy with the message it would deliver if nothing else.

He was going to see that you were the Prank Master here.

***

Once finished with your shower you retreated to your bedroom. On the way you could hear Peter in his room asking Gamora if she had seen his comb, and you grinned. You sure knew where his comb was.

Mantis is gathering her own stuff together to take a shower when you enter the room. You glance at what she's carrying to make sure she has enough soap. God forbid she might run out and then use Peter's instead of yours. You actually would feel bad if the prank accidentally hit her instead of Peter. Satisfied that she does you shut your door behind her and wait, unable to keep a grin from splitting your face.

Perhaps half an hour later, a good bit after Mantis had returned from her shower, you can hear Peter shouting.

"Are you KIDDING me!?"

Mantis looks towards the sound in shock before turning to see you covering your giggles with your hand.

Now you can hear Peter cursing your name.

"What did you do?" Mantis asks, both intrigued and alarmed.

"He tried to get me back for turning him blue by putting red dye in my soap. I found out and turned it back on him," you answered, nearly stuttering over your giggles.

"How?"

"I just poured the tainted soap into his bottle. Now he'll have been dyed twice." You grinned, but it fell shortly when you heard the bathroom door slam open and heard his footsteps coming in the direction of your room. You jumped up and quickly flicked the lock just before he reached the door.

The knob jiggled and then he started to pound on the door, cursing your name and demanding you come out.

Feeling cheeky, you answered, "Nobody's home!"

From the other side Peter said loudly, "Come out here, you coward!"

"Do you need something?" you ask, your grin wide.

"You. Out here. Now."

"Whatever for?" You're have a real hard time biting back your laughter. Mantis is sitting on her bed, hugging her bear and openly giggling.

"You know exactly what for!"

You look to Mantis. "Should I?" you chuckle.

"YES! You should!" answered Peter from the other side of the door.

"Didn't ask you!" you retort. You look back to Mantis and she nods excitedly. She wanted to see what had happened to Peter.

"Alright," you answer, loud enough for Peter to hear as well. You unlock the door and slowly open it.

You tried to hold it in. Honestly, you did. But the sight of Peter standing there in his pajama bottoms, and now purple where he had previously been blue, and a pinkish-red just about everywhere else you could see, you lost it.

Your laughter, combined with seeing that you didn't have a spec of dye on you, made Peter cry out in frustration. "HOW?!"

"It-It's your fault," you laughed. "You left a trail!"

Peter narrowed his eyes. "I did not leave a trail!"

"You did! I-I saw you had taken the rest of the dye and I knew what you'd do with it. Dude, you- you really should have left the box behind. I might not have noticed then." It was all you could do to say the sentence coherently as you tried to hold back your giggles. "How did you not notice I turned it around and poured it back in your bottle? Don't you look??"

As Peter sputtered indignantly for a reply you noticed that you again had an audience. Yondu and Kraglin stood at the bottom of the stairs, grinning up at the scene and shaking their heads. Rocket and Drax were standing by their room, Drax chuckling with a giggling Groot on his shoulder and Rocket almost looking impressed. Almost. Gamora was standing across the landing, shaking her head, though it appeared more out of second-hand embarrassment for Peter rather than disdain for you.

"Don't I- You- I'm- UGH!" Peter sputtered in frustration. He had half a mind to tickle you until you peed your pants for this- Well, not literally, though he wouldn't be above threatening it. He may be an asshole, but he wasn't 100% a dick. Regardless, the other half of his brain was too busy trying to think of any suitable comeback... and failing. He was The Prank Master! How were you beating him at his game? He glared at you. He wanted to wipe that smirk off your face. "You think you're so funny, don't you?! Just wait. You better watch your back. I'm gonna... I'm gonna..."

"You're not going to do anything, Peter." It was Gamora who spoke now, her tone teetering somewhere between warning and exhaustion, with a hint of amusement buried somewhere in there. "She beat you at your own game. Go to bed."

You couldn't stop the grin that split your face if your life depended on it. You took a calculated step back, hand resting on your door. You put on your most innocent voice. "So..." you started. "Does this mean I'm The Prank Master, now?"

The look in Peter's eyes could have vaporized you. "That's it!" he cried, stepping towards you. He wasn't sure what he'd do when he got hold of you. Hold you in a headlock until you apologized? Wet Willie? Both? Neither? Didn't matter. All he knew was you were going to pay for this.

However, he'd never get the chance. You were too fast, slamming the door in his face and flicking the lock just before he could get near.

You and Mantis doubled over laughing and Peter sputtered some more empty threats before Gamora could be heard scolding him and telling him to go to bed.

It was even better the second time.

***

The next morning you were, dare you say, cheerful.

Peter, less so. He was still a bit cranky that not only had he been the victim of the dye prank twice, just one night after the first, but that it had happened because he tried to get you back and you turned the tables on him. Sure, he had cooled down a bit from last night, but he was still an uneven purple/pinkish-red mess and the others kept snickering at him. Even Gamora had been caught hiding a grin behind her hand a couple of times.

It wasn't fair. He was determined to get you back, but how would-

He spotted something on the kitchen table, interrupting his thoughts. Something shiny, and green, and was that...?

Oh you were going to get it.

***

You were minding your own business, walking over to one of the bookcases in the sitting room, when suddenly you were accosted.

Peter had pulled you into a headlock from behind.

"Hey! What the hell! Let me go!" you demanded.

"Tell me you're sorry and I'll think about it!"

You had a feeling what this was about, but you played dumb. "I'm not going to apologize for turning the tables back around on you! It was your own fault for trying."

"That's not what I mean and you know it!"

You started softly laughing despite the moderate chokehold. You couldn't help it. "Did you- Did you ever find your comb?"

Suddenly you feel something wet in your ear. You knew there was only one thing it could be. "Ew! No! Peter!" you squeal, trying to squirm away. "That's disgusting! Stop it!"

Peter was chuckling now, still giving you a wet willie. "Say you're sorry!"

You jerk against him. "Never!" You were laughing despite really only having one hand to fight him with. The limited range on your brace made it so you couldn't bend your elbow enough to grab his arm with that hand, and you were standing too close to the bookcase to throw him over you and get out of the headlock. Well, too close to do it without hurting him, or your books, that is. You were stuck, but you still weren't going to give in.

Turns out you wouldn't need to.

"Alright. Break it up," came Yondu's voice from somewhere off to the side. "What's going on here?"

Peter released you and you rubbed your ear against your shoulder to get the wet feeling out of it. "She put my stuff in Jello!" he complained.

Yondu gave you a weird, albeit amused look. "Don't ya think ya did enough to him already, missy?" He wasn't scolding you, but he actually was surprised you were still on the attack after having seemingly won the war last night.

Fighting a grin you reply, "In my defense, I'd already done that before the dye thing. I only found out he was planning that afterwards," Technically not the full truth- you actually found out during the setup of the jelly prank, not after, but it was close enough, "and what was I supposed to do, not turn the tables back on him when I found out?"

Peter punches you in the shoulder, but there was no anger behind it, just cheekiness. You stick your tongue out at like a child in retaliation.

Yondu grinned and shook his head. It'd been awhile since he'd seen his boy carefree and goofing off like this, even if he was bickering with you like the two of you were kids. Still, he should maybe try to persuade a stop to the prank war again before things escalated any more and you two killed each other. It'd be a shame to save him from Ego just to let him die in a prank war of all things, and bad form to let him kill their host. "Boy, I think ya might need to accept that she won this round." he said, a hint of teasing in his voice.

"I will do no such thing! She just got lucky." Peter replied.

You smirked. "Yeah. Sure. 'Lucky'," you taunt. "Just say it and I'll call us even."

"EVEN?!" Peter exclaimed. He gestured to the stained purple and pinkish red of the areas of skin you could see. "Look at me!"

Trying not to smile you slowly look down to the brace on your arm. Head cocked to the side your eyes look back to Peter. "You were saying?"

Peter bit his lip and narrowed his eyes. You could tell he wanted to retort with something, but he knew he had no leg to stand on. Eventually he settled for, "I'm still not saying it."

Yondu snorted a laugh. "Whatever it is, just be a man and say it, boy. Quit while yer ahead."

Peter looked at him indignantly. "I am not going to declare her The Prank Master."

Unable to suppress your grin any longer you nudge him in the shoulder and say in your sweetest voice, "It's ok, you don't have to say it," taking a few steps away you add, "We already know." You then jogged out of the way when he made a grab for you.

You made your way out the front door, but he didn't follow, instead just stood there pouting.

"Ya finally gonna give it up, boy? Take yer loss like a man?" Yondu chuckled, teasingly.

"Never." Peter responded, too busy plotting revenge to fully catch the "take it like a man" part as he walked out of the room.

Yondu chuckled and rolled his eyes as he went to take a seat on the sofa. It was nice to see that you had a goofy side, though he wondered if it was Peter rubbing off on you, or if you had just had it buried under layers of stubbornness and sass.

Either way, it seemed certain that the boy was gonna have to relinquish his self-proclaimed title of "The Prank Master."

***

Over the next couple days the pranks between you and Peter had slowed down. This was likely in part because of how you made Peter realize that he couldn't complain too much about getting even for the dye prank if he considered that you were still in a brace as a result from one of his previous pranks gone wrong, but also in part because the two of you had pulled so many pranks so far you were seemingly running out of ideas.

Peter moved the furniture in your sitting room 3 inches to the left, likely to get your back for putting his comb in jelly.

You retaliated by setting up some cling film up at head height in the kitchen doorway for him to walk into and then calling him into the kitchen.

He got back at you by swapping your salt and sugar out, thereby ruining what would have been a perfectly good cup of tea.

For this high crime, you decided to get him back by scrapping out a couple Oreos and filling them with toothpaste. He was most definitely not fond of that one. Called it a crime against nature, and he may have been right, but so was what he had done to your tea.

Other than that, nothing really escalated, well apart from the oreos and tea, that is. The two of you kept making little jabs at each other and annoying one another. Really bad puns, petty insults, that sort of thing.

You did assume, however, that Peter was just biding his time, trying to think of something big that he could spring on you that might make you give up the game and declare him The Prank Master, because gods knew he wasn't going to concede.

And you'd be right.

Peter spent a decent amount of time brainstorming ideas for a really good prank, or even just a decent way to annoy you, in between all the smaller ones, but he was coming up with nothing he deemed quite good enough.

He was about to consider throwing in the towel when you inadvertently provided him with the fodder he needed.

***

It was the fourth day since the first dye prank and most of the dye on Peter had worn off by now.

You were reading on the couch, little Groot was playing with the TV and flipping through random videos on the YouTube app with Drax, and Peter and Kraglin were in the middle of a card game at the table on the other side of the room.

In what you would chalk up to a cruel twist of fate, Groot managed to find his way into a video of ambulance calls.

Rudely and immediately torn from your book by the sound, your hand shoots out for the TV remote and you mute the TV, much to the dismay of little Groot, who had found the noise fun and had been cheering the siren on. As calmly as you can despite your rapid heartbeat, you ask Drax, who was confused by your behavior, to please tell Groot to find something else to watch.

Drax looks at you strangely, but translates for Groot anyway, which again, only sounded to you like he was repeating your words verbatim due to his translator. You still didn't know that the translators didn't actually translate into Groot, but rather Groot had just picked up and could understand a bit of Galactic Standard, even if he couldn't speak it.

Groots looks slightly disappointed for a second but agrees and switches videos and you unmute the TV.

You didn't bother checking what new video he had chosen. That had been a mistake.

After the ad finished playing you were jerked back into reality from your book by the sounds of now multiple ambulance calls going at once. You mute the TV once again and say, "I'm sorry. I should have been more clear. Anything else. Anything else except for videos of that sound."

Drax, rightfully confused, asks, "Why?"

"I do not like it." is all you offer, and you don't elaborate when asked.

Peter, of course, overhears all this, and thinks he's found his new way to annoy you. He of course had no way of knowing the reason you couldn't bare the sound wasn't due to annoyance. He had no way of knowing its effect on you.

***

He tested the waters the next day after lunch.

You were washing up the dishes with Gamora when the sound of an ambulance siren makes you freeze in the middle of drying a bowl.

Gamora turns her head towards the noise and wonders aloud what it was.

Without answering you take towards the direction of the sitting room to, gently, scold Groot for playing those videos again.

Of course, when you get there, you only see Peter, who pretended to be surprised to see you.

"Turn that off," you say sharply.

"What?" Peter asked innocently.

You didn't ask him again. You just grabbed the control and exited the video before throwing the control back down into his lap. "Don't play that again," you warn.

"Why? Does it annoy you?" Peter asked with a smirk. He didn't notice your hands shaking.

Your eyes hardened. "Just don't," you say, returning to the kitchen.

Peter grinned. He was going to have fun with this.

***

Peter would play that sound three more times that afternoon, each time eliciting a more irritated response from you until you finally ripped the plug to the TV out of the wall and turn to him to angrily yell, "Stop it!"

"What?" Peter asked, chuckling in surprise at your latest response. You must really hate that noise.

"You know exactly what. I'm seriously, genuinely asking you to knock it off," you reply.

Gamora, who could tell Peter was working your last nerve and who was also becoming irritated by the repeated playing of the sirens, nudged Peter and told him he had his fun.

Peter half smirked and seemed to relent, saying simply, "Okay."

You sigh. "Thank yo-"

"After you declare me The Prank Master."

Gamora rolled her eyes and propped her head up on the hand resting on the arm of the couch, not wanting to get involved, but inches from yelling at her boyfriend that she was ending the prank war herself.

You were seething. "You're a goddamn child!" you scold, leaving the sitting room and considering getting out some of the vodka you had in the freezer just to calm your nerves.

You had only just made it into the kitchen when the sound started up again.

You back against the wall and cover your face, inches from tears. Your breaths came in shallow gasps as flashes of bright lights and the sounds of tearing metal and screaming fill your senses. You tangle your hands in your hair.

"FUCKING STOP IT!" you scream.

Peter and the others in the sitting room, as well as those upstairs, all paused in shock at the sheer volume behind your scream.

They then heard the sound of the back door slamming forcefully.

Yondu, who had been at the table playing cards with Kraglin, had only been present for the second and last incidence of Peter annoying you with the sound, and it wasn't until now that he put the pieces together. That day when you acted strange and walked out on the show- this siren sound had been playing then too.

Shit.

He got up and scolded Peter, who in his shock still hadn't turned the video back off. "Turn that shit off now, boy! If I hear it again I'm gonna shove my arrow up your ass! You hear me?"

Peter, recognizing the tone in Yondu's voice as one that he had encountered many times as a child when he was in trouble, immediately switched the video off. He had to concede that perhaps he went a little too far this time, but of course he didn't actually understand just how true that sentiment was.

Yondu went to go see where you went, and he didn't need to look very far, which surprised him. He was for sure you would have taken off for the forest again, since it was kinda your thing.

Instead, you were sat with your back pressed against the stone of the house about a couple meters from the door, hand clamped over your mouth and eyes in that terrible 'wide yet unseeing' way. In the dim light provided by what shone out the kitchen windows from inside he thought he could almost see the remnants of fallen tears.

He tried to approach you slowly, but you caught him out the corner of your eye and jerked to a standing position.

"Hey, hey-" Yondu said, holding his hands up. "It's alright-" he started, but then found he didn't know what else to say. After a moment he settled on, "Ya wanna talk about what that was about?"

You don't meet his gaze. "Nothing. He just pisses me off. He's a damn child."

"While that may be true, yer still full of shit."

You glare at him.

He continues. "If this was just about Quill gettin' under yer skin ya wouldn't be shakin' like that, and I doubt you'd be crying neither."

"Am not," you mutter. You turn away, wipe your eyes, cross your arms self-consciously, and start walking away. "It's cold."

Yondu rolled his eyes. It was cool out, yes, but it wasn't that cold. "Ya wanna talk about why ya dislike the particular noise so much?" Yondu called after you. "Ya ain't got to, but I can tell somethin's eating ya. I might help to get it off your chest."

"It's nothing." you reply. "Just an annoying sound."

Yondu frowned. "Now listen here. I ain't gonna force ya to tell me, but I'll be damned if I'm gonna let anyone just flat out lie to my face, missy."

You turn to him, indignant. "I'm not-"

"Hell if ya ain't. I've seen that look before, I know what it is. Ya can lie to yerself, but ya can't lie to me!"

You glare at him. "Who the hell do you think you are? Coming in here acting like you know anything about me!"

"I'm the person telling ya that it ain't healthy to keep that shit bottled up inside ya. It'll eat ya alive."

You don't respond. Just roll your eyes and start walking away again.

Yondu threw up his hands. "To hell with you then!" He starts to walk back inside but stops at the door to speak again, this time his tone a little softer, "I have a feelin' no one's ever told ya, girl, but ya don't have to 'be strong' all the time. Sometimes it's ok to let people in. It don't make ya weak." With that he headed back in the house.

You lean your back against the cool stone and sigh in frustration. What did he know.

***

You head back inside a bit later, not feeling much better.

Peter catches you as you're about to head up the stairs. "Hey, I just wanted to say sorry for-"

"Don't." You cut him off, not stoping in your path. "I don't care. I'm going to bed."

Peter frowns, but lets you go. Maybe he could try again in the morning. He truly was sorry. It was just supposed to be a bit of fun.

***

You stared up at the ceiling from your bed for what felt like hours. You couldn't sleep, couldn't stop thinking about it. You knew Peter had no way of knowing why you couldn't stand that sound, but you still couldn't help but be unhappy with him. He just wouldn't stop.

You can feel your jaw clenching with each flash of horrific memory.

You were annoyed at Yondu too. Acting like he knew anything about you or some shit. What did he know? Not you, that's what. You didn't need someone acting like they cared. You didn't need anyone, really. People come, people go. No one stays forever.

You feel your chest clench. Your throat tightens and you sit up. You didn't want to cry.

A walk. That's what you needed. A walk in the forest would surely help wash the memories away. You could walk until you were too tired to think about it, then sleep it off. It would be better in the morning. You'd be ok.

You quietly slip on some jeans and make your way downstairs to put on your boots and grab a jacket. Choosing your thin leather one because it had been chilly when you were out earlier, you open the back door and head out into the cool night air.

You'd find out soon enough that you should have stayed in bed.

#gotg #guardians of the galaxy #gotg fanfic #gotg fanfiction #marvel fanfic #x reader #yondu udonta #peter quill #starlord #kraglin obfonteri

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utterlyinevitable · 3 years

Note

#29 from the first and last prompts please. Ethan x MC, up to you ❤

29. first vs last time waking up together

I’ve done this for both Odette and Becca 😊 (also this got waaaay longer than intended..)

Ethan x Becca - The First Time

Ethan’s body jolted awake with the falling fear he’s about to be late. His eyes dart open and immediately find his alarm clock. 7:12am. He’s overslept by two hours. He starts to move, throw the covers off him. But then he remembers. He has nowhere to be - he quit days ago and it still hasn’t settled.

Then Ethan becomes acutely aware of the pins and needles in his arm. Rolls towards the delightfully warm tingling.

His chest swells when he sees her curled up against him. Her face nuzzled in the crook of his elbow. Without a thought he wraps the rest of himself around her, nose burrowing in her wild hair. A small hum of content leaves her parted lips. Ethan nestles closer. So close there’s no space left between them.

They lay like that for seconds, minutes, Ethan could swear time stopped when he’s this happy.

And then there’s a roll of hips against his. He thinks nothing of it. Then again. And another pressured wiggle of her behind.

He smirks against her hair, moving to pepper a kiss to her temple.

“Morning,” he whispers, tone hoarse with first words of the day.

Becca makes a nondescript grumble. Turns towards him. Her dark eyes large and innocent, bleary with sleep. He watches as they find him, widen with the realization that they’re here - they’ve done this - and it wasn’t all a dream, clear, and a smile pulls.

“Hey.”

Ethan x Becca - The Last Time

Becca’s sprawled out over his bare chest in their California king-sized bed that’s much too big for their near empty nest. Ethan’s stroking her hair, loving fingers massaging her scalp. Tendrils of nostalgia washes over her with every caress.

Twenty-five years and not much has changed. Not really. He still sleeps wrapped around her in this big bed. Even with 3 children and a roost of pets she hates sleeping without him.

“I miss you already,” she mumbles into his still sculpted pec.

“I know, darling. We’ll be fine.”

“Couldn’t you just be normal and pay the extra shipping fees? You did for Dakota.”

Ethan couldn’t help but chortle, “Because Dakota vehemently refused the option. This was Care’s idea, anyway.”

“Daddy-Daughter road trip,” Becca sighs and squeezes her husband tighter.

Selfishly she wants to be mad, she hates being without him. But she can’t. It’s too precious. Too sacred of an experience she wouldn’t dare ruin for them.

“Who would’ve thought?” she adds more to herself than anything.

Neither could have predicted how utterly enamored and hands-on Ethan would be as a father. Neither ever thought it was in the cards. Every decision they’ve made veered otherwise. Needless to say they were pleasantly surprised.

“Sometimes I think you love her more than me,” she playfully pouts. One final strop in loving protest before he needs to get on the road.

“Only some days.”

Ethan catches her hand before it makes contact with his chest. Uses the leverage to pull her into a kiss.

Ethan x Odette - The First Time

Naturally Ode’s body clock woke her up promptly at 5:50AM. The only sound filling the 15th floor condo is the soft snores of the man beside her. A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth as she took in the naturally gruff man looking oh so childlike. She couldn’t stop staring. Couldn’t stop stop from thinking about how far they’ve come. How much more there could be between them...

There’s really only one more thing to do to ruin their friendship completely....

And that’s enough thinking for now.

Ode gingerly moves to get up - destination coffee time, a fresh brew for them both. A fresh pot and a fresh start. But Ethan rolls towards her, still blissfully deep in slumber, his hand finding purchase on her hip. And it doesn’t help his bed is more comfortable than a cloud.

Resigned, Ode watches him a little longer. Paints dreams what could be all over his ingenuous expression.

< continued in two in a bed: ii >

Ethan x Odette - The Last Time

Ethan abruptly wakes to the duvet being pulled off of him. “Huh - Wha-” Blinking rapidly his eyes settle on the culprit.

Odette’s standing at the foot of the bed dressed in her housework attire, folding the large blanket with anxiety written all over her face.

“Etta...”

He moves with loose limbs, shuffling towards her. Ethan helps her fold it then places it to the side of the bed. He sits on the edge and pulls her between his legs, cradling her fidgety hands between his own.

“Everything’s fine. It’s okay,” he coos.

A thumb trails to brush against her cheek, lingering there. He knows the effect before it happens, just like he intended, her shoulders relax with the contact.

“Come back to bed.”

“We’re moving today,” she deadpans.

“We’re moving upstairs. Not across the city.” Ethan wraps himself around her. “Lets relax and enjoy our last few hours here.”

And then they fall back into bed.

_______________

Perma:

@lucy-268 @thegreentwin @queencarb @danijimenezv @starrystarrytrouble @terrm9 @interobanginyourmom @maurine07 @mercury84choices @schnitzelbutterfingers @the-pale-goddess @whimsicallywayward15 @mvalentine @mm2305 @rookie-ramsey @drariellevalentine @withbeautyandrage @forallthatitsworth @stateofgracious @missmiimiie @uneravine @iemcpbchoices @sophxwithers @therookie @quixoticdreamer16 @lsvdw-blog

@adiehardfan @headoverheelsforramsey @dickgraysonsscrumptiousbooty @reputaytion-xiii @jerzwriter

Ethan:

@udishaman @binny1985 @honeyandsunfl0wers @wingedhairstylemusicweasel @ohchoices @dulceghernandez @blossomanarchy @stygianflood @caseyvalentineramsey @openheartthot @senseofduties @tsrookie @kalogh @aworldoffandoms @takemyopenheart @casey-v @ethanramseylover @a-crepusculo @randomperson111 @lilypills @anntoldst0ries @nix-grey @aishaaaaaaah @estellaelysian @mysticaurathings @mayarambles

#ethan x mc #ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc #open heart #open heart fanfic #choices open heart

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lorelylantana · 3 years

Text

A Blindsided Engagement Chapter 2: Engagement

Chapter 1

Chapter Rating: G Overall Rating: G

Ava Vanguard was surprised to see Link return to Hateno a full month ahead of schedule. She was a bit disappointed when she read that her husband and son would assist in clearing the damage of Calamity and it would be some time before she could see her family again, but the relief that they survived was enough to keep her content. News that her family still stood was all she could ask for as a military wife and mother. She was just sitting down to lunch when none other than her son walked through the door.

Link seemed well, better than she’d ever seen him, in fact. He was dressed smartly in boots she recognized as standard issue for the Royal Guard and the Champion’s tunic he was so fond of. Ava was a bit perplexed at the circlet gleaming on his forehead, but shrugged it off. After slaying Calamity, her son no doubt received gifts of all kinds. Link carried a garment bag in his hands, which he hung on the hook by the door before hugging her tight.

“Hi, Ma.”

“Let me look at you,” she said, taking his face in her hands. She was glad to see a quiet joy in his eyes that she hadn’t seen since he drew the sword that hung over his shoulder. It made her happy to see bits of the son return to her after he walled himself off. “Tell me everything.”

Link managed to explain the story of Calamity’s downfall between bites of their split lunch, which is how Ava knew he was nervous. Now that Calamity was soundly defeated, there were very few things that Ava could think of that would cause such reticence.

Did her son find a significant other? Had he come to ask for permission to bring someone home?

“You're earlier than expected,” she prompted, gauging her son’s reaction, “Is there anything you wanted to tell me?”

Link cleared his throat, hand coming up to the back of his head.

“I’m engaged.”

Well, she wasn’t that far off.

Ava gasped, “I had no idea you found someone special! You should have written!”

“It was really sudden,” he admitted, “Honestly, I’m still shocked she said yes.”

Ava laughed, made euphoric by relief. She was aware of and lost countless night’s sleep over the walls her boy had put around himself. Her heart broke to see that forced apathy in his eyes. Yet here he stood, joy written in every line of his face, no sign of restraint in sight.

It was a shame she couldn’t stop to admire it, as not a moment later her son straightened.

“I have to go, the wedding planning’s been keeping me busy. I thought I would invite you to the engagement feast personally, but I have to be getting back,” he nodded toward the garment bag, “I thought you could wear that to the banquet. A tailor in the castle can alter it if it doesn’t fit.”

With a hug and a kiss to his forehead, Link was gone. Vanished out the door, and once again she was alone.

For a moment, a bittersweet moment, she was still. Her little boy had grown up, and she didn’t get to see it. Still, the melancholy thought was drowned out with the elation that came with the knowledge that her son, amid the chaos, found a safe harbor to bare his soul to.

Ava shook her head and moved to the garment bag. She had a nice dress, so she didn’t know why he gave her a new one.

At least, that’s what she thought before she opened the bag.

She had never touched a fabric so fine. Her fingers glided over deep velvet and silk, gazing in awe at the gold detailing along the sleeves. A dress fit for royalty.

Ava smiled to herself. Her son was always such a sweet boy, though perhaps she should scold him. There was no need to spend so much money on her.

It’s not like she could wear such nice clothes very often.

Captain James Vanguard wasn’t really surprised when he received an invitation to a banquet and instructions to wear his dress uniform. He’d been expecting it. His son was the Hero of Hyrule, of course he’d be invited to the victory celebration. He was taken a bit off guard when the footman informed him that said celebration would be held that very evening, but James Vanguard was a soldier through and through. It took him a quick thirty minutes to change out of his armor, scrub the day’s grime from his body, and slip into the red and blue suit that had been issued upon his knighthood and he was ready for the grand occasion.

Despite his quick response time, the party was already in full swing when James entered the Sanctum, lit up by blue flame, giving the ancient hall an ethereal glow that was at once new and old. For a moment he was silent, letting the fact that they were at peace sink in at long last. Perhaps now he could retire without the guilt of letting his country down. Spend his days holding his wife instead of just thinking of her.

The King’s approach snapped him out of his reverie. James bowed, “Your Majesty.”

“Good evening, Captain! Are you enjoying the festivities?”

“Yes, Your Majesty, I can’t imagine a better way to celebrate the occasion. More than I expected, to be frank.”

The King threw his head back and laughed, “I can imagine. You must be proud of your boy, hm?”

“Of course. He’s exceeded every hope I had for him. That said, I would be lying if I said I wasn’t worried for him.”

James had lost many nights’ sleep thinking of how his little boy seemed to curl under the weight of his destiny. In his more fanciful thoughts, he’d believe that the burden would be lifted, but his years as a soldier had taught him that it wouldn’t be so simple.

He knew that the physical scars were the easiest to overcome.

King Rhoam hummed, “I can imagine, but I’m sure our children will pull through. We’ll be there to advise them after all.”

And with that, the King was gone, off to speak with the other guests. James shook his head. This was a happy time, and he was told Ava was here. His energy should be spent towards finding his wife.

Ava looked around, completely unprepared for the grand scale of the celebration before her. She was told her husband would be in attendance as well, so she searched for him, feeling like a fish out of water.

“Mrs. Vanguard, it’s so lovely to finally meet you!”

Ava turned to see none other than Princess Zelda herself, walking towards her in a fluttering violet gown the exact same shade of the coat her son now wore. The Champions likely coordinated their attire. Ava hurried to curtsy the best she could, but the Princess merely waved a hand.

“Oh there’s no need for that, please. I’ve been eager to finally speak with you. You must be so proud of Link, I certainly am.

Ava blinked, pleasantly surprised that the Princess held her son in such high regard. Eager as she was to finally discover who her son’s bride was, Ava wasn’t about to refuse a request from the Golden Princess, so she talked for hours about her favorite moments of Link’s childhood.

“You must tell me what Link was like as a child, and spare no details!”

Ava wasn’t about to deny a chance to relay some of her fondest memories, especially at the princess’ request. They talked for what seemed like hours. She wasted no time telling the Princess about Link’s childhood escapades. She was just about to explain how five year old Link rode a bear through the village street in nothing but shorts when Princess Zelda was called away for a speech.

Ava sighed, alone once again. Perhaps she could spot her son in the crowd?

“Ava!”

She turned, a smile growing on her face and her husband’s arms wrapped around her. She kissed him, alight with affection and relief at seeing James and feeling his beating heart against her chest.

The war really was over.

“I missed you,”

“I missed you too.”

As blissful as the moment was, it was cut short by the King addressing the crowd.

“I hope all of you are enjoying the evening. I can’t think of a better way to mark the end of the Calamity’s reign than with an engagement, and so we gather to-”

Confused, James leaned into his wife’s ear.

“Who’s getting married? Anyone we know?”

Ava turned to look at him with that expression she wore whenever he said something stupid, which he thought was unwarranted for once given the situation.

“It’s Link, James.”

“What?”

“What did you think this party was for? It’s to celebrate Link’s engagement!”

“His what?”

“Our son is getting married,” Ava said, “Since he’s one of the Champions, the royal family was kind enough to celebrate with him.”

Vanguard was reeling, “Who’s he getting married to?”

Ava tutted, “He didn’t mention her name, I was going to ask him tonight, but Princess Zelda wanted to talk and I’ve been sidetracked all evening. She really is such a lovely girl.”

Before he could ponder this revelation further, King Rhoam commanded the room’s attention.

“I would like to thank you all for celebrating this wonderful occasion with us. After such dark times, it gives me great joy to hold this feast in anticipation of a union I have no doubt has the support of all Hyrule-”

As the king spoke, the Captain scanned the Sanctum, trying to spot his son’s mystery bride. Could it be Mipha, they had spent some time together as children, and he wouldn’t be surprised if it grew to something more. James thought better of it as soon as he spotted the Zora in question. She was beautiful, dressed in her Champion blue, but there was an air of melancholy about her that was impossible to ignore. Captain Vanguard hoped his future daughter in law wouldn’t look so forlorn at the engagement party.

“-and now, without further ado, I ask that you all join in as we celebrate the upcoming nuptials of my dear daughter, Zelda Lana Hyrule, and her loyal Champion, Link Vanguard!”

Wait a minute.

His son’s name was Link Vanguard.

Captain Vanguard blinked as the room erupted with applause, looking up to the man standing beside the Princess and king.

Well, there he was, standing where the Princess’ fiance was supposed to be with his arm linked with. Before he could process the implications of these observations, a butler came by to guide James and his wife to a private banquet hall. They sat down next to each other and were told to wait. It was strange, to be sitting at a table he’d spent countless hours guarding. James shifted in his seat.

“To clarify,” James began, “Our son’s going to marry Princess Zelda?”

Ava nodded, “I think so,”

Link and Zelda walked smiling through the door, and the room descended into chaos.

#Zelink #zelda #botw zelda #aoc zelink #botw link #botw zelink #fanfic #A Blindsided Engagement #LantanaLore

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kurtstinypurse · 4 years

Note

Also: a taunt, with one eyebrow raised and a grin bubbling at your lips

have some skank kurt <3

“ways you said I love you” prompt: as a taunt, with one eyebrow raised and a grin bubbling at your lips

Kurt Hummel was completely and utterly infuriating, and Blaine had always thought so.

In fact, he couldn’t really remember a time when he didn’t. Kurt had always been around, at least since Blaine’s family moved to Lima when he was nine, and Kurt had been infuriating in every minute since.

At first, it was because Kurt wouldn’t talk to him.

Blaine walked into his fourth grade class at his new school, fresh-faced and wide-eyed and nervous, knowing he was inserting himself into a classroom of kids that had known each other for years. He wasn’t expecting to make friends, really, or to even be acknowledged, and he wasn’t.

But he saw one boy sitting at his desk in the corner, teeth worrying his bottom lip while he worked out a math problem, quiet, not acknowledged either.

Until Blaine tried.

He just- he looked like someone Blaine wanted to know, and so he walked over, and he introduced himself, and the boy barely looked up.

In fact, he flinched, and his pencil stilled in his hand for a moment, and then he kept writing, as if Blaine weren’t even there.

And though he was dejected, Blaine was also the type that just couldn’t handle not making a friend with someone he wanted to be friends with - and so he kept trying, learning Kurt’s name from their teacher and trying to smile at him every morning.

It didn’t work.

It never worked.

Kurt stayed quiet, and he stayed away, and Blaine just didn’t understand why.

He had always thought he was pretty friendly, pretty easy to talk to. He was always happy to go along with what his friends wanted to do, and he got excited about a lot of different things, from sports to musicals and Disney.

Blaine had always thought he was a pretty good friend to have.

Apparently Kurt disagreed, and that- that was something that settled uncomfortably inside of Blaine’s chest and stuck with him for years.

It faded, of course, into a dull ache that only showed itself when they passed each other in the hallways or got stuck in the same class. Blaine wasn’t crazy, and he wasn’t a stalker - he quickly learned to stop trying and just leave it, but he always just wondered.

And then, at the start of their junior year, Kurt showed up with a shock of bright pink hair streaking through his bangs and a ring in his eyebrow and eyeliner around his eyes, and he went from quiet to being abrasive, and Blaine started wondering all over again.

He wanted to know what happened to Kurt, if it had been something over the summer, or if maybe the bullying from the jocks and the locker slams and slushies had just gotten to be too much, and maybe he was trying out a form of armor.

Blaine could understand that - he’d gotten enough of it himself, but that was another thing about it all, too.

Why couldn’t they have just been allies this entire time?

Apparently Kurt just wasn’t interested, would rather toughen up and roughen up and trade in the sense of style Blaine had always admired in favor of leather jackets and torn jeans, making himself effectively untouchable.

Blaine was over it, the idea of winning Kurt over or becoming friends or even making eye contact, but he still wanted to know why.

Of course, Blaine had only just resigned himself to never finding out when the two of them were paired up together for a science project.

It was one of those ones, too, where they’d have to work outside of class, developing a unique experiment of their choosing to prove proper use of the scientific method. They’d have to work together on it for two weeks, and then they’d present it, and the project was a pretty big chunk of their grade.

Blaine had no idea what kind of student Kurt was - he used to keep his head down and do his work, sure, but he was so different now, missing from class as often as he bothered to show up, leaning back in his chair and fidgeting with his eyebrow ring instead of taking notes.

Regardless, they needed to get a good grade. Junior year was the most important year for getting into a good college, and Blaine had plans, music and New York and, primarily, getting out of Ohio, and there was no way he could let Kurt get under his skin and get in the way of-

“Hey, B.”

And there Kurt was, perching himself right on the edge of Blaine’s desk, looking at him with a sort of put-on disinterest that didn’t quite fit the piercing blue of his eyes, the bold pink of his hair.

Blaine was startled - by a number of things, really, unsure of what to focus on first. It was Kurt’s closeness, Kurt’s acknowledgement at all, and the nickname, sounding strangely foreign and oddly comfortable coming off his tongue all at once.

He blinked, pulling his focus back in, and he looked up at Kurt, forcing a polite smile.

“Um, hi.”

Kurt narrowed his eyes at Blaine, as if suspicious of him, folding his arms over his chest.

They stayed that way for a long moment, just looking at each other, Blaine wondering what to do, what to say, if he should even bother or just offer to take care of the whole thing on his own. He actually hadn’t expected for Kurt to come over to him or acknowledge him at all, hadn’t had enough time regardless to properly consider the right path to take.

He felt shaken, startled, far too affected still by the boy who had infuriated him for so many years.

“Guess you’re stuck with me,” Kurt said finally, reaching up to flick at the ring threaded through his eyebrow. “Sorry about that. Somebody’s gotta do it, though.”

Blaine huffed out a short laugh despite himself, torn between refusing the apology and accepting it.

From the decent level of chatter in the room, it was obvious that everyone else had already started arranging their plans with their partners, and he knew their teacher was a stickler for setting pairs and keeping them that way, regardless of whether everyone got along or not.

For all intents and purposes, they were stuck together.

But surprisingly, the longer Kurt sat on his desk, kicking his legs out and back without a care in the world, waiting for Blaine to wrap his head around it all, the less Blaine really minded.

“I’m sure we’ll be fine,” he said, and he meant it.

There were several interesting things about Kurt.

It was like the longer they spent together, the more interesting things Blaine discovered - unexplainable things, mostly.

Like the way Kurt didn’t argue when Blaine set their project schedule, two afternoons a week at Blaine’s house, where it was quiet. There was the way, too, that Blaine would look up from his notes or his textbook sometimes to find Kurt just looking at him, an entirely unreadable expression on his face.

And then there was the way that Kurt would laugh at Blaine’s dumb jokes, or he’d just smile at Blaine like he was actually happy to be there, only to catch himself in it and near visibly flinch and close himself off, quiet for the rest of the afternoon.

It made Blaine feel nervous and insecure and a little flustered and giddy all at once, and he wasn’t sure what to do with the feelings, didn’t know what any of it meant.

At least, he didn’t know what it meant until he reminded himself that it didn’t mean anything - this was Kurt, after all, who had purposefully ignored him for the better part of their schooling careers.

They just needed to figure out their project, get it done, present it, and move on - and moving on meant Kurt going back to ignoring him, and Blaine going back to wondering.

And that was fine.

But the most interesting thing of all came around one Friday afternoon, when both of them were tired from their long weeks and less than productive, project more or less at a standstill. They were making decent progress - Blaine was pleasantly surprised with it, actually - and so he wasn’t too concerned about their timeline, wasn’t too worried if the day was more of a waste than anything else.

He was more concerned about the fact that Kurt was still there and seemed to have no interest in leaving.

In fact, Kurt was splayed out on Blaine’s bedroom floor, legs stretched out and head pillow atop his arms as he stared at the ceiling, feet twisting from side to side in a botched sort of rhythm, as content and settled as Blaine had ever seen him.

“I’m bored,” Kurt announced, aiming a heavy puff of a sigh up to fluff up the pink bangs flopping over his forehead. “This is going nowhere. We should play Truth or Dare or something.”

Blaine frowned, pushing himself up from where he was laying on his stomach on his bed to sit cross-legged instead, suddenly feeling far too vulnerable to continue letting himself relax.

Kurt was up to something

He was up to something, and Blaine didn’t know what it was, and he didn’t know what was about to happen, and he didn’t like not knowing.

That had been the problem with Kurt all along, after all - not knowing.

But then Kurt was pulling himself up off of the floor, standing up and running his fingers through his hair and looking so big all of the sudden, looming larger than life right in front of Blaine in his power, in his mystery, and Blaine-

He forgot how to say no.

“I-I guess we can play a couple rounds,” he conceded, nerves swirling low in his belly. He wasn’t sure what Kurt was going to ask, what Kurt was going to make him do, if it would be safer to take a truth or a dare or to just take it back entirely and send Kurt home.

And then Kurt flashed a grin, a glint in his eye as he moved to he leaned back against Blaine’s desk, much like that first day in their classroom, facing him now, and before Blaine could change his mind, Kurt dealt his cards.

“Pick, then,” Kurt said evenly, though the smile still played at the corners of his lips, as if he were holding back. “Truth or dare?”

“Dare,” Blaine said instantly, though he had no idea why, felt like he had no control over the word escaping his lips.

He had no idea why he didn’t think it through for even a moment, why he didn’t accept the option of answering an inevitably embarrassing question instead, but something about Kurt, about all of those interesting things about him that were adding up and the way Kurt was still there even though he didn’t really need to be -

Something about all of it was making Blaine feel reckless.

And he continued feeling that way, too, even as Kurt’s eyebrows lifted slightly in surprise, even as Kurt watched him carefully as he clearly considered what he might make Blaine do.

Blaine expected something ridiculous like climbing onto the roof or even streaking down the street, or maybe Kurt would make him smoke a cigarette or- or something.

But absolutely, absolutely not this:

“I dare you to kiss me.”

The words sounded foreign to his ears at first.

Kurt was looking at him so neutrally, as if he’d dared Blaine to try licking his elbow, as if it were completely mundane and ordinary and just- something they did.

But it wasn’t.

It completely was not, and it was so out of left field that Blaine felt like he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move, couldn’t do anything but sputter and say, “N-No. No.”

But Kurt didn’t waver.

Instead, he sat up a little straighter, narrowed his eyes a little further, a challenge in every way.

“Oh, come on, B. Do it. You know you want to.”

And of course, that was the sticking point of it all.

The idea of kissing Kurt - it felt like winning, like finally finding what Blaine had always been searching for, like finally getting an answer to the impossible questions he’d always held, like finally connecting in the way he’d always craved, even if it wasn’t quite the same as when they were children, even if Blaine had never quite understood that yes, this was what he had been searching for.

Kissing him.

Kissing him, knowing him, holding him, understanding him.

But it felt like a trap, not the right way to go about it or any way to go about it, because there wasn’t supposed to be any way, especially not spoken into possibility by the very boy who had avoided him for so long, who had stopped any of it from happening.

It felt like a trap, and it didn’t make sense, and he couldn’t.

“No. I’m not- No,” Blaine stammered, completely flustered and caught off guard and wanting, but he couldn’t. He wouldn’t. He wouldn’t. But why? “Why would-”

“What if I told you I looove you?” Kurt asked tauntingly, sing-song and teasing, his eyebrow quirked and arms folded over his chest. He was biting his lip, too, clearly trying to hold back an equally taunting grin that was threatening to peek through.

Blaine scoffed, ignoring the swirl of warmth and possibility in his stomach and the strike of mixed fear and adrenaline in his heart at the words, shaking his head.

“You don’t.”

It was just a way of getting Blaine to give in, and he knew it - he wasn’t stupid. But it wasn’t going to work. He’d had enough of this, of Kurt being so hot and cold and standoffish and alluring and- and infuriating all the time, and he just wanted to scream with the frustration of it all.

But then Kurt cocked his head a little, and he softened, eyes suddenly looking more like the blue of a clear sky instead of a stormy ocean, smile spreading into something gentler, more real.

Softer than Blaine had ever seen him before.

“I could,” Kurt murmured, so softly that Blaine almost wasn’t sure he’d spoken at all.

But Blaine heard it, and he knew he heard it, and it shook him to his core, making him gape at Kurt first, making anger bubble up in his chest second.

Making his heart flutter third, but- no.

Kurt didn’t get to do this.

He didn’t get to march into Blaine’s life after years of forcibly avoiding it. He didn’t get to sweep Blaine up into this whirlwind of- of smiles and laughs and looks and time spent together and the blue of his eyes and the pink of his hair and the glimmer of his eyebrow ring when it caught the light, and it was all too much, all too unfair, all exactly what Blaine wanted but never thought he could have, all dangled right in front of him like a test, like it was about to be snatched away the moment they looked away from each other.

Blaine exploded.

“So, what- You’re telling me you’ve ignored me all these years because you’re afraid you’d love me?” he shouted, standing up with his hands balled into fists at his sides, white-knuckled and trembling, somehow gravitating closer to Kurt against his inclination to run. “What kind of fucked up logic is that, Kurt? Don’t you see how ridiculous that is, I mean-”

“I was scared, alright?” Kurt snapped, and he was so close, somehow magnified in a technicolor that scared Blaine, too, Kurt’s face red now along with the rest of his colors, vibrant and alive and real, finally a person or just more than the untouchable being Blaine had always wondered about.

When Blaine spoke again, it was like a whimper, all of his anger dying out at the idea of Kurt being afraid- afraid of him.

“What were you scared of?” he wanted to know, pleading, begging, tell me.

Kurt inhaled a sharp, stuttered breath, turning his head just enough to look past Blaine instead, looking but not seeing anything at all, at least not anything physical, not anything tangible, and Blaine was desperate for him to speak, desperate to know, but he waited.

He’d waited for something, for anything, for so long, that giving Kurt a few more seconds, especially when it felt like whatever he would say was going to be big and important and life changing-

A few more seconds was nothing.

And so Blaine waited, and he unclenched his fists, and he reminded himself how to breathe, reminded himself that his feet were flat on the ground and that he was here, that he was capable of handling the mix of feelings inside of him and the mystery beyond him.

Kurt inhaled again, and he exhaled slowly, and he spoke.

“I… I haven’t ever had many people in my life,” he began carefully, still avoiding Blaine’s eyes but speaking from his heart all the same. “I wasn’t an easy child, and I was different. I’ve always been someone you had to work to get to know before you could really care about them. And most people just...didn’t want to.”

Blaine nearly opened his mouth to speak, to say I wanted to, I always wanted to, I still want to- but he stopped himself, swallowing it down instead, waiting, listening.

“I don’t mean that as a complaint or a pity party,” Kurt clarified quickly, a tremble in his voice. “It never mattered to me because the people that did care about me, my parents- I couldn’t have asked for anyone better.”

Another pause, another deep breath, and finally, Kurt’s eyes flickered back to Blaine’s, rimmed red with the slightest hint of tears that hadn’t shed, that wouldn’t fall.

When Kurt spoke again, it felt like a bomb had been dropped and like everything began to come together all at once, like Blaine’s world was shaken and like it all made sense at the same time.

“My mom died the summer before fourth grade.”

It would have been a mere couple of months before Blaine had introduced himself, likely few enough weeks to count on two hands. It would have been too soon for Kurt to be anywhere near okay.

It would have been Kurt struggling with returning back to a normal life that didn’t feel normal at all, trying to hold himself together in a way no child should ever have to, and Blaine just hadn’t gotten it, had taken it all personally and taken offense to it and been infuriated by it when it wasn’t even about him, not at all.

And he had held onto it for years.

“Kurt, I had no idea, I-”

“Just- Let me talk?” Kurt broke in, voice soft and pleading and effectively quieting Blaine right away, reminding him to stop, to listen. “I just remember you being so nice to me right away, and I didn’t understand why. And you kept trying, and even after you stopped, I could tell you still noticed me, and I had never felt noticed before, and the older we got, the more it scared me, because the more afraid I’ve gotten of losing the people I care about, and then my dad had his heart attack this summer, and I couldn’t take myself anymore, so I-I made myself look like this even though he was fine, as if it would help, and I-”

When Kurt cut himself off with a choked, broken sob, it was enough - in fact, it was too much, and Blaine couldn’t wait any longer, couldn’t just listen, couldn’t stand still.

He stepped forward, and he reached up to cup Kurt’s face in his hands, and he leaned their foreheads together, allowing his eyes to flutter closed as he came to stand still again, an unmistakable pillar of support now, unfailingly there and unmoving.

It was the first time they had touched purposefully, the first time Blaine had been so close to someone else this way, period, but instead of feeling nervous or worried or bashful about any of it, Blaine just felt certain, sure, needed.

He didn’t speak. He wasn’t sure if Kurt wanted him to, and he wasn’t sure he needed to, anyways - he could show Kurt that he was there, that he wasn’t moving, that he cared, that he wanted to be there and needed to be there and wanted to stay.

And Blaine did stay, as long as it took for Kurt to be able to breathe again, as long as it took for him to stop trembling, to come back to himself.

Finally, when Kurt brought his shaky hands up to cup Blaine’s face in return, Blaine could finally breathe again, too.

“I don’t want to be scared anymore,” Kurt murmured quietly, close enough for Blaine to feel the gentle warmth of his voice as he spoke.

It felt like a cue, like finally the door was opening, and Blaine didn’t want to close it, didn’t know if he could.

“I dare you not to be,” he whispered instead of making any promises or saying anything else, instead closing the remaining millimeters of distance between them to press his lips to Kurt’s in a soft, slow kiss without much movement at all, just staying, always staying.

After all, maybe if Blaine made good on his own dare, Kurt would, too.

#this is way 2 long #I am sorry #klaine #kurt hummel #blaine anderson #glee #my fic #klaine fanfic #klaine fanfiction #prompt game

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kinkykinard · 3 years

Note

If (and **only** if) you’re still taking drabble prompts, could I request Doctor!Lucifer with either blood or whimper? Dealer’s choice :) and only if these strike your fancy!!

I’m sorry this took me 27.5 years to get to, but here it is!

“How about Thai? I could go for something spicy.”

You turned your head in the direction of the bedroom, listening to Lucifer’s voice reverberate off the walls as you scrolled through a food delivery app on your phone. You considered his words for a moment and nodded, pulling up the menu for Lucifer’s favorite Thai restaurant. You punched in his usual order and then perused the listed items until you found something to your liking. With everything accounted for, you completed the order and set down your phone.

You decided to fix yourself a drink while you waited for Lucifer to freshen up after work. You scanned the offerings on the wall across the bar counter you were seated at, your eyes landing on a bottle of whiskey. FIguring it was as good as anything, you slipped off your stool and landed unsteadily, your head spinning as the room felt like it was shifting around you. A soft whimper escaped your lips at the suddenness of the vertigo and you clutched the counter for support.

“Are you alright?”

Lucifer’s voice from directly behind you startled you badly and you sucked in a sharp breath, nearly toppling over in your shock. His arms wrapped around you, swift and sure, and he held you to his chest as you found your footing. It still amazed you how quickly he could move.

“F-fine,” you said shakily, your head still spinning. “Just a little dizzy.”

“Right,” Lucifer said lightly, not believing you for a second. “Let’s get you off your feet, hmm?”

You yelped as he scooped you up, wrapping your arms around his neck as he strode in the direction of the bedroom. His feet were noiseless on the floor and you were somewhat distantly awed by his ethereal grace even as it did nothing to cushion the slight bumping with every step he took. You shut your eyes firmly, trying to keep your breathing even as a bit of nausea washed over you.

“Here we are,” Lucifer said by way of warning as he carefully extricated you from his arms, setting you down on the bed. He gently ran a hand over your head, stroking your hair reassuringly as you let it fall back onto the pillow to rest. Perching at your side, Lucifer’s gaze swept your face, searching your expression.

“Does this happen often?” He asked.

You shrugged a little, averting your gaze as you plucked absentmindedly at the blanket beneath you.

“Not usually,” you replied. “But it’s been happening more lately.”

Lucifer hummed, his expression thoughtful. He reached out, pressing a hand to your forehead to feel for any signs of a fever. Finding none, he cupped your cheek, stroking his thumb over it.

“Have you had any other symptoms?”

“No,” you murmured, your heartbeat accelerating a little bit as you watched Lucifer slip into doctor mode. The last thing you wanted was to be examined, especially since you were legitimately worried that there might be something amiss. It sounded paradoxical even in your own head but you couldn’t help it; the anxiety was so much stronger than the self-preservation instinct.

“Let’s have a look at you, then, shall we?”

You bit your lip to repress another whimper. The first one had landed you in your predicament in the first place and you didn’t need another one worrying Lucifer even more. You wanted to resist, you really did, but the weight of Lucifer’s presence next to you pressed in on you and you nodded your head. You weren’t ready for him to press if you protested, so you knew that relenting was the path of least resistance, even if it did put you on edge.

“Lovely, I’ll be right back.”

You could hear the approval in Lucifer’s tone. You knew he was used to getting his way, and usually you didn’t mind indulging him, but being taken care of like this was a boundary you weren’t entirely ready to have him cross. You trusted him, of course, but that trust did little to soothe your frayed nerves.

You turned your head to watch Lucifer as he returned, setting a sleek black leather bag on the bed next to you. It was polished and professional and in stark contrast to his lounge pants and henley. Underdressed as he was for the occasion, he still oozed authority, and while it was intense, something about his stoicism and the way he took charge was also reassuring. You knew you were in good hands.

“Your wrist, please.”

You hesitated a moment before lifting your hand, offering it to Lucifer. His fingers encircled your wrist easily, fingertips finding your pulse point without any trouble at all. He glanced at his watch as he counted your heart rate and you chewed the inside of your cheek as you felt your too-fast pulse reverberating off his fingers.

If he was concerned about your heart rate, he certainly didn’t show it as he moved on, reaching into his bag for a stethoscope and blood pressure cuff. He paused as he unraveled the tubing, giving you a soft smile and giving your arm a gentle squeeze. You flashed him a weak smile of your own and resigned yourself to his ministrations and he wrapped the cuff around your bicep. You wrinkled your nose at the rasping of velcro as he secured it into place.

“Be gentle, please,” you murmured quickly as he slipped on his stethoscope. “I hate this part.”

Lucifer’s entire demeanor softened at your plea. He smiled softly, sincerity and apology flickering in his eyes.

“I’ll make this as easy on you as I can,” Lucifer assured you. “Just close your eyes and relax.”

You did as you were told, turning your head in an attempt to distance yourself from Lucifer’s ministrations even more. You gritted your teeth as the cuff tightened around your arm, trying to keep as relaxed as possible, and before long you felt it loosening again. It wasn’t as bad as you’d made it out to be in your head, but it was definitely still unpleasant.

A touch at your neckline made you jump. Turning to face Lucifer once more, you opened your eyes to see him leaning over you with his stethoscope on, his fingertips carefully pulling aside the neck of your shirt. He paused a moment, giving you the chance to protest if you were truly uncomfortable, before continuing. He pressed the stethoscope to your chest, smiling encouragingly down at you.

“Just keep breathing, my love,” he instructed.

You chewed your lip a little as he listened intently to your heart and lungs, sagging back against the mattress when he finished. He hung the stethoscope around his neck as he straightened and you felt a little thrill in your chest; even through the anxiety his examination had wrought, you could still admit he looked handsome.

“I don’t suppose you would agree to letting me check your blood sugar,” Lucifer said wryly; a statement, not a question.

You shook your head.

“As I thought,” he said with a nod. “No matter. I don’t think the dizziness is anything serious. Your vital signs are a little outside the normal range, but I’m sure they’ll settle. How are you feeling now?”

“Better,” you admitted.

Lucifer smiled with a nod. He took a moment to return his equipment to his bag before setting it aside, out of sight and out of mind. Turning to look at you again, he stood and held out a hand to help you up. You allowed him to slowly guide you to your feet and were pleasantly surprised that the dizziness did not return as strongly as it had onset earlier.

“What do you say we get you some water while we wait for dinner?” Lucifer asked.

You smiled and nodded, looping your arm through his and leaning into him for support. As intimidating and nerve-wracking as it was having a doctor for a boyfriend sometimes, you were glad for him. Giving up all pretense that you were fine, you allowed him to lead you into the living room where he could dote on you to his heart’s content.

#jules answers #Lucifer on Netflix #fanfiction #reader insert #Lucifer x Reader #Lucifer imagines #becominglionhearted

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bae-roman · 4 years

Note

I know it’s a bit early but I remember you saying you love Christmas so I hope this is fine but can I get a holiday themed [if they don’t celebrate actual Christmas] bunni and roman drabble that’s on the more mature side and maybe before they have kids [other than Nadia oviously but maybe she’s not involved] thank you!!!! 😁

Ahh! Thanks for the request babe! I LOOOOOOOVE Christmas SO MUCH. Honestly You could send me Christmas prompts in like April and I’d still be down.

I actually have a drabble I was working on last year so I’m just going to add onto that! Nadia may be involved a tad in the beginning but I’ll make it more mature at the end!

Putting some under the cut bc it gets smutty towards the end!

This would be their first Christmas together after bunny moved in. She had told Roman many times before about her love of everything Christmas related and he’d seen how perfectly decorated her old home had been. Hell, even the year before bunny bought piles of decorations to Roman’s house after discovering all he had was a tree and a wreath which was “completely and utterly unacceptable” and “akin to child abuse” as bunny had said.

Roman was definitely not the most into Christmas, and had Nadia not been a factor, he would likely ignore the holiday altogether.

When Bunny cared about something she really throws herself into it and what Roman didn’t know is that Bunny had actually been toning down her Christmas spirit in the previous years. Since she had never lived alone, she always had to compromise on her decor. Even though her previous roomies were her friends and had a bit more tolerance for her antics, she still wanted to be respectful of common living areas and not shove her decorations down their throats, even if that meant having only 1 Christmas tree.

So, now living with Roman in what she considered her home as well, she was finally able to go all out, and let me tell you - she did. Roman went to work on December 1st to his house looking normal and came back that night to something like this

(Of course their house doesn’t look like this, but it’s how bunny hung their lights)

Like Roman is practically blinded by it while driving down the street.

Additionally, all the trees on their property were also lit up and decorated just as extravagantly. Even if Roman wasn’t a bit of a grinch, he’d still consider this too much. When he entered the house things only got worse. While aesthetically it looked good, Roman couldn’t get over the fact that his home now closely resembled the inside of a Christmas store.

He was greeted by Nadia running up to him, like she always did when he come home, “Don’t you like it Daddy? Bunny said I didn’t have to go to school if I helped! Isn’t it pretty?”

Nadia was obviously very excited about the state of the house and as much as Roman loathed it, the last thing he wanted to do was disappoint his little girl so, he hid his disdain behind a fake smile and said the house looked lovely.

When Nadia dragged him away to show him the Christmas tree in her room he caught Bunny’s eye and sent her a quick scowl, but Bunny only laughed.

After seeing the pink Christmas explosion that occurred in Nadia’s room, he took a quick look through the rest of the house, discovering every room had their own tree and separate theme. If he wasn’t so horrified that he had to live here for the next month, he’d be somewhat impressed.

The one thing he actually did like was the main Christmas tree in the living room. Bunny had moved things around (or rather, had paid many people to move things around) so that it was centered around this colossal tree. The thing was huge but beautiful all the same. It reminded Roman of one he’d seen as a child on a trip with his father to Time’s square.

While he didn’t love the rest of the house, he appreciated that bunny had left his office alone and kept their bedroom decor to a minimum. He bitched about the decorations all month long but ultimately, didn’t order her to remove them.

This would come to bite him in the ass the following year, though, because Bunny went even harder the next year.

Now, let’s skip to the evening of Christmas day...

After they had put Nadia down for bed Roman and Bunny went back to the living room for a drink.

The two of them were talking about nothing in particular for a while before roman started wandering around the tree. It was large enough that Bunny couldn’t see him on the other side but she heard some shuffling so she called out, asking what he was doing.

Roman re-emerged holding a present, “There was one left, it says it’s for you”

“Ooh! Does it say who it’s from? I don’t recognize the wrapping paper” Bunny was too excited about the prospect of another gift that she didn’t even notice the odd way Roman was holding the box. His arms were hanging low and he was holing it on both sides, right below his waist.

Just as bunny was about to snatch it out of his hands, he stopped her. She looked up at him and pouted, “hey!”

“It’s uh really heavy. I guess whatever’s in here is pretty huge. Maybe just open the lid?”

“Fine, just give it to me”

When it came to presents, bunny was almost like a child. She loved gifts and surprise ones were even better.

Once again, ignoring Roman’s odd behavior, she opened the lid of her gift and found ... Roman’s dick.

Bunny looked up at Roman, a shit eating grin plastered on his face, and looked back down at the contents of the box again before bursting into laughter.

“Wow, just what I needed!”, Bunny played along, “no wonder it was so heavy, maybe you should put it down...”

Bunny took Roman’s hand and led him to the couch. He stood by the side as she got on her knees, resting her elbows on the arm of the loveseat, facing him. She carefully took off the box, freeing his member and taking it in her hands. Roman undid the buttons of his pants and let them fall down while Bunny took the tip of his length into her mouth. Roman pushed her hair out of her face and gripped it at the back of her head, nudging her head to take more of him in. She obeyed and slowly took more and more of him in until she was at the base, Roman let out a soft groan and leaned over to pull her top down to expose her chest. He licked his thumb and forefinger before reaching down and playing with her nipples.

Bunny continued to increase her pace until she felt Roman beginning to twitch inside her. She let him fall out of her mouth and got up to give him a kiss. She felt his tongue battle against hers as their bodies pushed against eachother.

Bunny ran her hands down from Roman’s neck to the collar of his shirt and tugged at the buttons until they ripped off. Roman slid his hands down her body, stopping to grip her bunched up top and dragging it down over her ass. Once he let the fabric go, he cupped Bunny’s ass in his hands and lifted her so that her legs were wrapped around him.

The fabric of her tights on his bare cock hardened him further and when the pair broke apart, he set bunny down on her feet and quickly removed the rest of her clothing so that they were both naked.

Bunny went back to the couch, this time sitting on it normally and widened her legs. Roman licked his lips and knelt down, putting a hand on each of her knees.

He spread her legs even further and pushed her back before bringing his plump lips to her core. He teased her at first, nipping at her thighs and licking her all over, except for her clit. He knew how crazy that drove her. When he heard her let out a little whine, he smirked to himself before giving her clit his full attention. Bunny arched her back and tried to move her thighs together but Roman’s firm grip stopped her from being able to interrupt his work. Roman felt her walls begin to tighten around his fingers and, just as she did to him, stopped his actions.

They both had a hate-love relationship with edging eachother. On one hand, being so close to your climax and then not reaching it was almost unbearable however, they knew that the sex to come would be 10 times more wild.

Almost like she could read his mind, Bunny flipped herself over on the couch so that she was again on her knees but this time her upper body leant against the back of it.

Roman ran his member across her slit, coating it in her juices before sliding it inside her. He took full control of Bunny’s hips and made achingly slow movements. He began to quicken his pace and it wasn’t long before he was bottoming out inside of her. They were both moaning fairly loudly. Roman ran one of his hands down from her ass to her clit and played with it while he fucked her. It wasn’t long before he once again felt her walls constrict around him but this time he let her reach her high. He followed not long after and rested on top of her.

When they were finished, bunny made sure to pick up their clothes and head upstairs. Roman, who had followed her into their room, lay on their bed while she went into the closet. Roman assumed that she was putting the laundry away or something since she was in there for a while but was pleasantly surprised when she came back out in... this

“So, I guess we had the same idea ...”, Bunny said as she posed in the doorway, showing off her little outfit. She looked at him over her shoulder and asked, “You ready to open your gift?”

#roman godfrey imagine #Roman Godfrey #christmas themed #christmas #smut #hemlock grove imagine #hemlock grove #request #Bill Skarsgård

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crystalbahamut · 3 years

Text

play by night

FFXIV Write Day 5: Extra Credit (Legacy)

Summary: As the Warrior of Light, you think you know what future generations will think of you– if they even do. But perhaps you don’t see the full picture.

Author’s note: Today is pick your own prompt day and I had the hardest time of this one by far, but the word ‘legacy’ has been bouncing around in my head for a few weeks now, so I gave it my best shot.

Warnings: Depression, Shadowbringers spoilers, Facet of Crafting questline spoilers, unspecified WoL, multi-talented WoL, musician WoL, 2nd person, slight WoL/Exarch but mostly WoL & Exarch (I think) (this one is going to be hard to tag on AO3 oof)

Words: 1,221

---

“That was lovely.”

You look up from your lute and see the Crystal Exarch standing by you. Not for the first time you wonder how he always manages to step so softly that he’s constantly coming across you unawares. It’s more than just being quiet; your…profession, should you call it that…means that you’re often conscious of how someone’s presence feels, and you can generally tell when someone is about to get close, as your shoulder blades draw in and your back goes straight whether the stranger is a barmaid or an assassin.

Except for the Exarch, who somehow has more patience than the former and is far more dangerous than the latter. You’re supposed to be his one last hope for the world; it probably doesn’t speak well of you that this one man can always catch you off your guard.

“Good evening Exarch.” You look around to make sure you’re alone. “I hope you aren’t here about a noise complaint.”

His lips actually part for his smile. How surprisingly expressive. “Not at all.” He gestures at the grass next to you. “May I join you?”

You open your arm wide over all the space he could possibly sit, and he chooses a respectable distance from you, remaining close without being overly so. “I was out for a walk,” he says as he settles. “Even with the eternal light blurring the lines between sleeping and waking, this area can be quite peaceful.”

“When someone isn’t making a racket,” you say with an attempt to line your tone with humor, and move to set your instrument aside.

The Exarch, though, looks deadly serious when he places a hand over the strings to stop you. “My friend, if you do not feel comfortable that I can hear you play then I will slip back into the night and never be seen again. Pray, do not stop on my account.”

You tilt your head to one side and, despite your mood, smile ever so slightly. “You know, for such a normally straightforward man, you can be quite dramatic.”

He smiles again. And again, it is more natural than the closed mouth enigmatic expression you’re used to seeing. “I prefer…‘enthusiastic.’” He nods his head in approval as you take your lute back and start strumming absently. “And perhaps it is due to the usual incompatibility of our schedules, but…I have never seen you so relaxed, and I would not take that from you.”

You pick at the strings, making notes too sharp and brash, trying to find the right balance of quiet between making no sound and too much sound. “I rarely get any time to myself. Only when others are asleep can I take a moment to breathe.”

The Exarch opens his mouth and you are quick to silence him. “Don’t say it.”

He frowns so hard he nearly pouts. “You have no idea what I was going to say.”

“As the Warrior of Light I have a preternatural ability to sense apologies before they happen.”

“Call me an unbeliever, but I think you may be having me on.”

“There’s one way to tell.” You look at him with more scrutiny. “What were you going to say?”

He purses his lips and for that moment you can’t believe he’s a century-old wizard leading the last free city of Norvrandt. He looks too much like a petulant child. “I was going to say, that is…regretful…and you have my sympathies.”

“You’re a decent liar. I almost believe you.”

His smile is slight again. Time passes pleasantly, or it would, if you could drag your mind from the depths it currently dangles over. Unfortunately you’re in a mood tonight that cannot be swayed by pleasant sounds or pleasant company.

“I heard you helped Miss Thiuna fix Master Harig’s lute,” the Exarch says softly. “Thank you. ‘Tis been a long time since I have heard his music played. It does my heart good to see his apprentices carry on his legacy.”

His legacy. You strum absently as you think on that. You wonder what your legacy will be, at the end of everything. Is it enough to be known as a warrior, when there is so much about you no one else will ever learn? Would anyone else be as surprised as the Exarch to know you can strum a chord or two? Or will that be completely forgotten? Will the only memory of you be the one that stinks of blood and fear and death?

The Exarch says your name. “Hmm?”

“Are you all right?” he asks and leans in closer.

“I’m fine. Just thinking.” You pluck at a string. “It seems like a pleasant legacy, is all.” Pluck. “He must have been a good man.”

“He was,” the Exarch says. “My friend, I realize this may seem a touch…hypocritical, however, if aught troubles you, I would offer my ear to hear it.” He smiles conspiratorially. “You can at least be certain my confidence is assured.”

You smile at the joke that can only be partly considered so. He has a point, and your thoughts don’t go too deep. “It must be nice,” you say. “To be remembered for what you can create, rather than your ability to destroy.”

His smile turns wistful. “Would that any of us could choose such a fine legacy,” he says. “Alas, that is to be decided by those we leave behind and how they feel about what we have done.”

“It is a useless worry,” you agree. “And yet…I can’t stop thinking about it. What mine is now. What it will be. A lot of fighting, probably.”

“Perhaps,” the Exarch says. “Perhaps tales of your battles will make it through the ages. Perhaps they will inspire others to find strength of their own– whether that means fighting sin eaters…or simply surviving to the next day.”

You look at him. He is facing the sky now and all you can see is the profile of his lower face lit by the moon. “Perhaps people will tell of your willingness to help your fellows and set out on their own daring quests, or offer to help their elderly neighbors carry something heavy. Perhaps they will tell tales of your sublime artistry and create masterpieces of their own…or simply start a new hobby they aren’t very good at but that they enjoy immensely.” He looks at you again. “Perhaps all of these things can be true. Because no one can dictate how great or miniscule their legacy is, because people will take it and make it so it suits them. And most of the time it isn’t all that grand. Sometimes it is just the small day to day. And I daresay that is enough. For all of us.”

There’s a lump in your throat that takes some effort to swallow. “I don’t know,” you say, unable to raise your voice. “That sounds pretty grand to me.”

His smile grows again. You set the instrument aside and scoot a little closer to him, and then a little closer still, and when you’re nearly pressed up against his side he finally slides his arm across your shoulders. You sigh in contentment. “Thank you…Exarch.”

“Any time, my multi-talented, artistic, battle-hardened minstrel,” he says, and you laugh.

Perhaps yours won’t be such a limited legacy after all.

#ffxivwrite2021 #ffxivwrite #ffxivwrite prompt 5: extra credit #ffxiv fanfic #shadowbringers spoilers #the crystal exarch #warrior of light #wolexarch #wol x exarch

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lemonz-and-limez · 4 years

Text

The Flash Determination

Prompt: Amy and Sheldon watch The Flash together

Note: spoilers ahead for The Flash

Amy knocked on his door, all dressed up and ready for date night. In her sensible dress and low heels, she was rather excited for another night with her boyfriend. Ever since they got back together, Sheldon was very adamant on two dates a month as opposed to one. He had told her that they had to make up for the ones they had lost while they were broken up. But they had already met that quota, and the amendment had been made to their new relationship agreement.

The apartment door to 4A swung open, and she was met with a very despondent Sheldon Cooper. Normally he was happy to see her when she arrived for their dates, but there was something off with him. "Hello, Sheldon," she greeted.

"Hello, Amy," he muttered and stepped aside to let her in. He was hardly dressed. Missing his tie and suit jacket, and his shirt appeared to be buttoned incorrectly.

"Sheldon, what's wrong?" Amy asked softly. "You seem upset.

Her boyfriend pinched the bridge of his nose. "Yes, everything is fine; it's just been a long week," Sheldon responded, low and obviously tired.

Amy knew what that was like; she'd been there many times. She took pity on him knowing full well that he did not handle stress well. Nobody did, but especially when they were tired.

"I'm sorry, Sheldon," Amy sympathized. She shut the front door behind her. "What if, instead of going out, we stay here? We can order takeout, watch some TV. Whatever you like," she suggested, hoping her offer would cheer him up a little.

"Really? You're ok with that?" He asked, obviously reluctant to show excitement.

She briefly ran her hand down his bicep, not missing how his muscles had filled in his shirts. "I want whatever is going to make you most comfortable," Amy told him. "If that involves staying home and eating take out, yes, I am perfectly fine with that."

Sheldon's eyes lit up, and a smile brightened his face. "Thank you, Amy!" he exclaimed. She giggled at his excitement. He turned his back to her and bounded towards the hallway, but he stopped just short of the step up. "Do you mind if I go change? This shirt itches."

Amy shook her head. "Of course not."

Shooting her a grateful smile, he disappeared down the hallway, leaving her alone in the living room. Amy shrugged her cardigan off and kicked her shoes off by the door. She was glad she decided to forgo her usual tights for the evening, making things a lot more comfortable.

Sitting down on the middle cushion, she waited for Sheldon to reappear. And when he did, Amy had to gulp to hope Sheldon didn't notice the blush in her cheeks. He was wearing his black Flash shirt with a white undershirt. Sheldon in black was always a good thing in Amy's book.

Sheldon stopped in front of the couch when he noticed Amy staring. "What? Is there something wrong with this shirt?" He asked, looking down to inspect it as if he would find a spot or something. As if his laundry routine was impeccable.

Amy waved her hand. "No, it's just… you look good in that shirt, that's all," Amy responded honestly. No need to hide something she had no reason to be embarrassed about.

"Oh," Sheldon blushed. "Well, thank you."

It was awkward now. He just stood in front of the couch, looking at his feet, and Amy was biting her bottom lip.

"Well, uh, I should get dinner ordered," Sheldon announced, breaking the silence between them. She nodded her approval but watched him still as he walked over to his desk drawer to pull out the takeout menu. "Would you like your usual order?" He asked, already dialing the number on his phone.

"Yes, please," Amy smiled at him. She knew his eidetic memory had something to do with it, but the fact that he saved space in that beautiful brain of his for her Thai food order touched her deeply.

As Sheldon ordered their meal, Amy waited patiently for him, scrolling through Netflix looking for something to watch. Unsurprisingly, Sheldon had already watched all the good content. Maybe he would want to rewatch something, she would have to ask him.

When he wrapped up with the person on the phone, he came back over to the couch. This time sitting down in his spot next to her. "The food should be here in about 25 minutes," he informed her, shoving his phone back into his pocket.

"Alright," she said. "Well, what do you feel like watching?" She asked, pointing at the TV.

Sheldon shrugged. "I don't know. I'm already caught up on all of my shows."

Amy didn't look at him as she was now looking through the guide for something they could put on. "There's gotta be something," she pushed. "Game of Thrones, Doctor Who, The Flash…"

"I never started The Flash," Sheldon confessed quietly, interrupting her before she could spew off any more names.

Her brow furrowed, and she snapped her head to look at him. "Really? Why?"

He looked upset again. "I don't know," he whispered. "I just couldn't after what it did to us, I guess."

"I know… do you think I should start watching The Flash TV show?" is what he had asked her that night before she broke up with him. That comment was the straw that broke the camel's back. It wasn't the show itself that broke them up, though. It was Sheldon's obvious commitment issues at the time, that had since been disproven by his MeeMaw, that ultimately tore them apart for six months. Surely, Sheldon must have known that.

"Sheldon," Amy started carefully. "You know it's not the show that broke us up, right?" she asked gently, not wanting to cause him undue pain.

"I do. It was my hesitation to commit to you that led you to leave me." Amy's heart splintered at that. Sheldon continued quickly. "I know it was justified, and that the break up was a good thing for us, but I could never bring myself to start watching The Flash. Every time I thought about it, I was just reminded of what I did wrong and how I hurt you with it."

Amy set the remote down on the coffee table in front of her. She turned to face her boyfriend entirely. She placed her hand on his knee. "I wouldn't have been upset if you started watching it, Sheldon," she told him.

"Really? Even with everything it represents between us?"

"The show doesn't represent anything," Amy sighed. "I didn't break up with you because I was mad at you for asking about a TV show. We've talked about what split us up and are trying to move past it. I knew you were going to ask me at some point if you should start watching it. I just would have preferred it not have been during our anniversary."

Sheldon lowered his head guiltily. Amy hadn't realized that the issue over the TV show bothered him this much. He deprived himself of something he would probably enjoy because he was afraid it would upset her. Even if they were broken up. Maybe she should show him that it was ok if he decided to watch The Flash.

Amy gave his knee a squeeze. "Hey, why don't you and I watch it together?"

"You want to do that?" Sheldon asked her suspiciously.

She opened up Netflix again and started the pilot episode. "Of course! I quite like the Flash, maybe I'll enjoy the series too." Amy shrugged and relaxed back into the couch, her hands resting on her knees like they always do.

However, Sheldon did something wildly out of character and grabbed her left hand. Just like he did when Howard went to space. She usually had to beg him to hold her hand, but he did it without hesitation as the show began playing in the background. "Thank you, Amy."

"You're welcome," she said softly and turned her attention back to the screen as the main character began speaking.

"To understand what I'm about to tell you, you need to do something first. You need to believe in the impossible."

As the third episode was wrapping up, Amy's alarm went off, indicating that date night was over.

She pleasantly surprised to find that she actually enjoyed the show. Amy could understand if the show was anything like the comics, why Sheldon enjoyed the Flash so much. Maybe they could make this a regular occurrence, watching The Flash together.

"Well, what do you think, Sheldon?" Amy asked as she turned towards him. "You think you're going to keep watching?"

Sheldon looked absolutely giddy, completely overjoyed. He had seemed so invested when they were watching the episodes. He didn't even mind when Amy made commentary on what was happening. "I rather enjoyed it," he said. "I find myself relating to Barry Allen in many ways."

"Really? How so?"

"His mother died at a young age, which caused an upheaval in his life. He's rather smart, but he's constantly running from things. But most of all, he uses his abilities to do good. I hope someday that is what I can do with science." Sheldon explained.

Amy smiled at him gently. "Sheldon, you're already doing that. You hope to change the world someday with your knowledge of physics, just as Barry Allen hopes he can with his ability to run. He wants to save people through running, you want to through knowledge."

Sheldon laughed a little. "I do… but I don't give people much credit, do I? Barry Allen credits those around him."

"You do, though," Amy protested. "You have faith that humanity will do good things with the knowledge you give them. That is giving people credit."

"Alright," Sheldon said, looking down at his hands. "I suppose now I am into this show for the long run," he guessed with a little chuckle.

"Well, if you enjoyed it, I don't think that's so bad," Amy stated.

"I suppose you're right," Sheldon nodded. He looked as though he was thinking about something before he started talking again. "I do wish I would have started it sooner, though."

Once again, Amy felt bad for him. It hurt her that he thought he couldn't watch some quality TV for her sake. Or to not be filled with guilt because he thought that the Flash was the reason they broke up. Whatever his logic was, it was probably an extension of grief from the breakup.

"Better late than never, right?" Amy asked with a tight-lipped smile.

"Right," Sheldon muttered. "What about you? Did you enjoy it?"

"I did!" she delighted. "I found the plot rather captivating. Maybe we can start watching it together." She paused for a moment. Did she dare tell him? "I must admit, though, that Harrison Wells character is quite attractive." She smirked, enjoying the way Sheldon's eyebrows shot up his forehead.

"Do you now?"

Amy nodded. "I did… you know how I have a thing for smart men, Sheldon," she flirted, her voice dropping slightly.

Sheldon decided to play along. "Well, with that logic, you should also have a thing for Cisco and Barry." He folded his arms over his chest, and his arms bulged a little. Amy found herself taken in by the way the muscles flexed under his shirt.

"Who said I didn't?" Amy winked at him in response.

"That's it," Sheldon exclaimed, throwing his hands up. "No more Flash for you!"

"What?" Amy asked with a mock pout.

Sheldon stood up from the couch and gathered some of the plates they had dirtied with dinner. "Now, now, I can't have you lusting over men who aren't me, Amy," he explained, walking over to the kitchen.

Getting up to follow him, she came to stand behind him as he cleaned one of the plates at the sink. She wrapped her arms around him and stood on her tiptoes so she could rest her chin against his shoulder. The smell of talc overwhelmed her senses. "Sheldon, there's only one man with a lightning bolt across his chest that catches my eye," she whispered in his ear.

He stopped scrubbing and turned off the water, drying his hands quickly with a kitchen towel. As he turned to face her, she lowered her feet back down to the ground. He was giving her that look that always made her go weak in the knees. "Well, that's good, Amy, because we have a legally binding contract that says you can only have romantic feelings towards me." He said as he wrapped his arms around her.

"Always," she breathed, kissing him softly. Their kissing changed when they got back together. Sheldon always seemed more at ease around her now, but especially when they were kissing. It was yet another positive thing to come from their time apart.

When Amy pulled away, she stayed close to him and kept her voice quiet. "Consider that my kiss for the night."

"Proposal," he said, his thumb rubbing tiny circles on her hip. "Tonight, we suspend the date night parameters again, and you spend the night."

Amy traced the lightning bolt across his chest as she considered his proposition. She would love more than anything to sleep next to him again. She had never felt safer than when she did with him next to her. And if he was offering it to her…

"I'd love to stay with you, Sheldon." His face lit up, and he bent down to kiss her once more. "On one condition," she said after he had pulled away.

"What's that?"

She gripped the fabric of his shirt in her fist and smirked up at him. "I get to wear your flash shirt," she whispered in his ear.

Not even waiting to hear his response, she skipped down the hallway to get ready for bed. Right before she closed the bathroom door, Amy heard Sheldon mutter: "That vixen."

Amy grinned. The Flash was no longer the straw that broke the camel's back. Instead, it served as a means to bring them closer.

A/N: I hope you enjoyed this little thing I couldn't get out of my head. I myself recently started watching The Flash and it got me wondering if Sheldon ever watched it. Then this was born. I will admit I do have a crush on the actor who plays Harrison Wells, so Amy's attraction is really all me :p

Anyway... thank you so much for reading, it means the world to me. Really. Your responses make me cry.

#shamy #shamy fanfic

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the-recusants-sigil · 5 years

Photo

Back again with Part 3- going in numerical order, that would be Vexen!!

I’m having a lot of fun with this prompt. Hope you like <3

Vexen

Words: 1939

-The first thing Vexen became aware of was the sensation of waves generally lapping at him. He could hear the faint roar of the ocean, feel the soft sand give way beneath him. The water was cool, pleasantly cool, a welcome relief from that suffocating trenchcoat, now soaked and filled with kelp.

-He felt the afternoon sun beating down on him, and at once he became acutely aware of the situation: this wasn't Agrabah. Agrabah didn't have an ocean. He was barely conscious, lying spread-eagle on a beach in all black; wherever he was, there was simply no way he didn't stick out like a sore thumb. The man tried to get to his feet, but faltered as soon as he placed some weight on his ankle. It was broken, no doubt, and he felt the pain shoot through his body, up his spine and into his shoulders. So he couldn't move, but he could at least look around and try to gain his bearings.

-This world was far different from any other that he'd been to. Vexen could make out small white dots moving incredibly fast off in the distance. Boats, perhaps? Further down the beach, he could see a couple strolling along with a fluffy dog in tow. Behind him, he heard footsteps on what he supposed was a boardwalk.

-”Hey there!” Vexen bristled; rule number one was to never be seen while out on a mission, and he had just failed miserably. Not that he could have done much with a broken ankle, he supposed, but this was still bad. “Do you need some help, sir?”

-”Er- no, no! I'm fine. Thank you, really, but I am quite alright, I-”

-”Okay,” the voice continued, “but you should really try to move. You've been there for a while, and the tide is about to come in. So if you don't want to drown...”

-”You know, actually,” he cut the good Samaritan off quickly, “I think I've broken my ankle. Perhaps I could use some assistance after all... if you are willing?”

-The man was tall- very tall- but you had no trouble helping him off the ground once you had a good hold on him. His long, blonde hair was tangled, green eyes weary, but he wouldn't allow himself to lean too heavily on you despite the obvious pain he was in. You carefully guided him up onto the boardwalk, steadying him when his legs wobbled, then across the street to the cafe your parents owned. It was a small place, normally bustling during “beach season”, but it was getting late in the afternoon, and most seemed to opt for ice cream instead. You deposited him at a booth and ran into the kitchen to grab him some water. In all likelihood, he was dehydrated.

-Vexen took the ice water from you gratefully, and when you sat down across from him, he didn't protest. After a few minutes of silence, he finally asked, “Why did you stop to help me?”

-This question gave you pause. “If somebody drowned right across from our shop, it might negatively impact business?” You shrugged weakly; it hadn't been entirely untrue, but you also didn't really know why you stopped. Call it a random act of kindness.

-”Sound logic,” the man sighed, finishing the water in his glass. “Well, thank you, kind stranger.”

-You smiled. “Please, call me Y/N. Now... do you need to see a doctor, sir?”

-”Nonononono. NO doctors,” he practically screeched before collecting himself. That was the last thing he needed, and the Superior would surely have his head. “Just... oh, goodness that hurts- just something to immobilize it and an ice pack, please, Y/N. And... my name is Vexen. Apologies for not introducing myself sooner.”

-Behind the cafe's storefront, through the kitchen, was the master's suite where your family lived. It was small, with a cramped living room, two tiny bathrooms, and two bedrooms: one for you and one for your parents. Luckily for Vexen, there wasn't much walking to be done to get to anything in the house. He made himself at home in your room, studying the contents of the bookshelves that lined the walls. There were some children's books mixed in with more advanced novels, and a few textbooks from your time at university.

-”Have you lived here your whole life?” he asked, trying as hard as he could to be pleasant. He wanted nothing more than to get the hell out of here and get back to the Castle before Saix demanded his head on a pike, but for now, it was wise to play nice.

-”Perceptive,” you replied with a nod. “Yep- Born and raised here. Went to college ten minutes away, but came back home after because my parents are getting older and need some help running the place. I wanted to be a marine biologist, but...” Vexen thought of little Ienzo, then, always his little helper, and he felt his chest tighten.

-“But maybe that can happen later. I still have big dreams,” you finished quietly.

-”Ah. So you studied Biology,” he mused, “it is always nice to make the acquaintance of a fellow academic. So, in this area...”

-The two of you went on and on for hours about the local wildlife, your misadventures in education, the swarm of idiots that seemed to flock to the Jersey shore in the summer. You reminisced about the semester you'd been a Teacher's Assistant giving lectures and grading assignments, and you remembered the one student in the last section of the day that wrote every assignment in crayon. Vexen assured you, with a quiet chuckle, that he had a colleague exactly like that.

-Just past midnight, you finally passed out, and Vexen took it as a prime opportunity to down the last potion he had left. The throbbing pain in his ankles subsided within the minute, and much to his relief, he found that he could once again put weight on it. If you asked in the morning, he'd tell you he just sprained it.

-Yet, there was a part of him, deep down, that wanted to tell you the truth. After all, you had helped him. Even after knowing you for such a short amount of time, he couldn't deny that he felt some kind of a connection with you. You could keep up with him in conversation, unlike the troglodytes he called colleagues, and you were interested in what he had to say. Without going into too much detail, he told you a bit about the work he did before... before the Organization. You'd shown genuine interest, and if he had a heart, it would have fluttered.

-Vexen, no. Think of the mission. You have to go back, he thought to himself. But... maybe one more day here couldn't hurt.

-So when he awoke the next morning and strode into the living room to find your family gathered there, his blood practically turned to ice in his veins. Your parents sat on the couch, eyeing the strange man warily; your father reached for something behind the couch and Vexen panicked inwardly.

-”Mom, Dad, he's fine,” you called from the kitchen, and they relaxed somewhat. He nodded awkwardly and made his way into the kitchen, nearly hitting his head on the doorframe as he entered.

-Vexen was surprised to see you waiting with breakfast ready. He gratefully accepted the food, the two of you discussed plans for the day. You inquired about his ankle, and he fed you the pre-rehearsed line; when you didn't push the issue, he sighed in relief. You wanted to make sure he was alright with a bit of a walk; a tour of the town would be the perfect thing to do, since he didn't know where he was or how he got here, and it might help him regain his bearings.

-Vexen, on the other hand, was thankful for a much-needed vacation day with someone whose company he actually enjoyed.

-Wait, did he just think that?

-Vexen strolled along the boardwalk with you, enjoying the breeze in his hair. He made sure to take smaller steps than normal so that you could keep up without jogging after him. He breathed in the scent of brine, watched the gulls drift lazily through the sky, and smiled, ever so slightly. Even the crowd seemed not to bother him- normally, a boardwalk bustling with rowdy beachgoers, dogs, and children would have been far too much for him, but for today, the presence of others was inconsequential.

-You pointed out various historical landmarks as you walked: an old inn that had been running for two hundred years, the original lighthouse that had fallen out of use in favor of a newer one that wasn't crumbling, the childhood home of an influential musician and, of course, the university you went to. He took it all in, but more and more, he found himself noting the smallest details about you.

-There were the little things, like the way your nose crinkled when you laughed or the way you stubbornly sipped at your coffee even though you knew it was too hot to drink. The breeze in your hair, the way you said his name, the quiet remarks you made about passersby that only he would pick up on...

-He came back down to earth when you took his hand and led him into an antique shop. The oldest one for a hundred miles, you told him, and his focus shifted to the densely packed display booths. Nearly all of them were chock full of furniture and various artifacts of eras long gone, like soldiers' uniforrms, milk cans, and record players. His eyes landed on a tall bookshelf packed with all sorts of volumes, and he immediately reached for a tattered hardback with yellow pages. The Complete Works of Edgar Allen Poe.

-Zexion will love this, he thought.

-That book was the only purchase the two of you made, and by the time you decided to leave, the sun had already begun to set. He knew it wouldn't be easy, but Vexen had to tell you goodbye sooner or later.

-”Y/N, thank you for spending such a lovely day with me,” he began slowly. You knew exactly where this was going. “But I really must get back to-”

-Vexen's face went bright red as your lips collided with his, stopping him mid-sentence. It was a quick kiss, but in that moment, he wished he could have stopped time and made it last longer. You pulled away quickly, face flushed, tucking your hair behind your ear nervously. “I- I'm sorry. You have to go back to work. I know. Well... Don't forget about me, okay? Come visit again sometime. Maybe without a sprained ankle, though.”

Still beet red, he stammered and scrambled for some kind of dignified response. “Uh, I- Well, yes. Yes, I will be back to visit. I promise you. Cafe at the Shore. I would not dare forget.” he turned to leave, but stopped abruptly. “...Thank you, Y/N. Really. I will see you again, sooner rather than later.”

-He turned away and walked further down the boardwalk, ears still visibly red from the encounter. As you watched him leave, you couldn't help but feel a little sad. He would be back, though. You knew it.

-It took Vexen a few minutes, but he eventually found a narrow alley he could duck into and open a corridor back home. He'd likely be in deep shit for failing so miserably in Agrabah, but after today, he wasn't sure he minded all that much.

#considermeafriend #kh imagine #vexen x reader #vexen #organization xiii #in which vexen visits the jersey shore and doesnt hate it #modern!reader #kh

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little-fandom · 6 years

Text

All Over You

Magnus' loft feels like home for Alec for quite some time now. Still, when Magnus asked him to officialy move in, he couldn't be happier. Now there's nothing else left to do, than to christen their home...

Or, Alec finally moves in to Magnus' and some loving happens.

read on ao3

Alec felt like home at Magnus’ loft for quite some time now.

They hardly ever spend nights apart, since their relationship officially started. The loft has a calming vibe. It’s more comfortable than the Institute, where Alec can’t forget about his struggles and stress connected with his work.

At Magnus’, he can let go.

He immediately feels relaxed, every time he steps through the front door. The warmth of the apartment engulfing him, the faint sent of sandalwood as he breathes in. He knows this place like the back of his hand.

So when he settles with his one last bag at the dresser and starts unpacking it, he can’t help the content smile creeping onto his face.

When Magnus asked him to move in, he couldn’t be happier. It shouldn’t be such a big deal, since Alec already was practically living here. Actually, this was only a matter of bringing the rest of Alec’s stuff to the loft, and it wasn’t much. But still, this was the last part of making it official.

But he never really had a lot. He managed to pack the rest of his clothes into a small bag and brought only one box, filled with some of his favourite books and photos of him and his siblings.

Magnus insisted on helping him with the packing and then unpacking, but the fate wanted it the other way since it sent him to some important Warlock convention in Italy this weekend. And those two days were actually the only ones where Alec had time to do the moving, because Clave envoys are arriving on Monday, and he knows he’ll be watched precisely by them.

Magnus was very upset with this whole thing, but Alec assured him that it’s fine. It’s not like he has a lot to do with this stuff. He was more concerned about not seeing Magnus for two days, but sadly there was nothing they could do about it. That’s how their lives work. They’re both busy and Alec is happily surprised how often they find time for each other either way.

So, this one last bag and he’s fully settled into his new home.

Their home.

He gets pulled out of his thoughts by the sound of footsteps approaching him, and as he turns he sees his boyfriend standing in the doorway of their bedroom.

“Hello, darling.” Magnus smiles brightly at him and makes his way closer.

Alec is completely stunned for a moment or two, his mouth hanging open, because he totally wasn’t expecting that. But as Magnus reaches him and places a soft kiss to his lips, all things are forgotten and he is lost in the feeling.

“You weren’t supposed to be back till tomorrow.” Alec says gently as they pull apart.

“Oh, if you’re not happy I can come back tomorrow.” Magnus jokes and places his hands on Alec’s waist. “We finished a bit earlier.”

Alec rolls his eyes at his antics, but the smile making its way to his face is definitely betraying his fake annoyance.

Then Magnus pecks him again quickly, and points with his head at the bag placed on the dresser.

“How’s the unpacking going?”

“It’s great.” Alec turns in his arms and continues his disturbed action a putting the rest of his clothes (mostly black) in the drawer. “I’m almost done, actually.”

Magnus places a small kiss at the back of his neck and his arms tighten around him.

“How much long?” He asks, nuzzling his head to the side of his neck. “I missed you.”

These words are followed with yet another kiss, but this one is more sloppy, open mouthed and Alec shivers pleasantly at the touch.

“I missed you too.” Alec admits as he holds on to the sensation of Magnus’ lips on his neck.

“Enough to leave this, just for a moment?” Magnus asks meaning his current task.

Alec chuckles as he answers.

“It’s never just a moment with you, Magnus.”

“Well, I’ve never heard you complain before.” Magnus states teasingly, pulling back from his neck and Alec already misses the warmth.

“And I am not.” Alec replies. “But this will take just a moment, so let me finish, and then I’m all yours.”

Magnus knows Alec doesn’t like leaving any task unfinished, either a report at work or stupid unpacking.

He growls behind him, but Alec still doesn’t stop his job.

“Why are you such a stubborn Shadowhunter?”

“Actually, all of us are like that, so you can ask the Angel.” Alec answers playfully.

“Oh, no my dear.” Magnus returns to mouthing at his neck. “You’re special.”

Alec lets out a shaky breath as Magnus begins to suck lightly at the skin there, his head falling back onto Magnus’ shoulder, all tasks forgotten.

Then Magnus snaps his fingers, and Alec realizes he must have closed his eyes at the sensation of his boyfriend’ teeth grazing lightly at his skin.

“What did you do?” Alec asks opening his eyes, but not noticing any changes at first.

“I just unpacked the rest of your stuff, darling.” Magnus states sweetly. “And I hope you’ll keep the rest of your deal.”

With that he turns Alec around and pulls him down for a kiss.

Alec hooks his arms around Magnus’ neck to bring him closer, and then Magnus his pushing back, crowding him into the dresser.

Alec’s breath hitches in his throat and Magnus swallows the sound with his mouth. Licking his lips, asking for entrance, to which Alec happily obliges.

And at that moment Alec thinks that this is what his life is now. That he can have this, any time he wants. Any time he needs. That with Magnus there’s no holding back, there never was.

Magnus presses more firmly onto his body, and Alec brings his hands to the front of Magnus’ shirt, unbuttoning it. Needing the skin on skin contact as soon as possible.

“I missed you so much.” He gasps out against his lips and Magnus let’s out an appreciative hum.

Next moment, Magnus is quickly shedding Alec’s bag from the dresser and then his hands wander to the back of Alec’s thighs, lifting him up and seating him on the cabinet.

Alec chuckles, his legs immediately going around Magnus’ waist, bringing him closer. He’s getting impatient with Magnus’ shirt. There’s always too many layers, too many buttons and he basically rips it of as he undoes the last one.

Magnus laughs against his lips and Alec takes advantage of their interrupted kiss, placing his mouth on Magnus’ neck, palms mapping his body, like they didn’t already know every inch of him.

Then Magnus moans, and Alec can’t help to smile against his skin as his hands reach his belt buckle. He pulls back and smirks at Magnus, brows raised in question.

“What are you even waiting for?” Magnus asks teasingly, bringing their lips back together as Alec eagerly undoes his belt.

Magnus hands settle on Alec’s hips, his thumbs creasing soft circles into the skin there. Then he slides them underneath Alec’s t-shirt. The Shadowhunter shivers as Magnus’ cold hands rub against his muscles. He smiles as Magnus pulls back, catching the hem of his t-shirt and Alec knows to lift his arms up, so they can quickly get rid of it.

Then their mouths return to each other, harder, dirtier and Alec can’t help but moan at the sensation. No matter, two days or fifteen minutes, Alec always misses him. Always wants him.

“We should christen this apartment since you moved in.” Magnus pants against his mouth, and Alec’s only answer is to laugh.

“Magnus, this apartment isn’t new, and I’ve been living here since forever.”

“Well, but now it’s official.” Magnus states playfully, trailing his index finger up and down Alec’s chest. “And it’s unforgivable that we haven’t had sex since you moved in.”

“I’m moved in for like five minutes.”

Magnus seems to think for a few seconds.

“Still unforgivable.”

He puts his hands under Alec thighs again, lifting him of the dresser as Alec’s arms go around his neck, legs locking tightly round his hips, still laughing softly. When they reach the bed, Magnus practically throws Alec on it to which he giggles, and climbs on top of him.

As Magnus settles between his legs, Alec instantly turns his head to give him more access to his neck. He knows it drives Magnus crazy. To kiss, nip and suck at his neck. Especially his deflect rune. And who is Alec to deny him such pleasure.

His hands wander to Magnus’ hair, tugging at it lightly, keeping him in place, then the Warlock raises his hands and with one swirl of a wrist they’re naked, grinding on each other.

“I couldn’t wait any longer, darling.” Magnus smiles against his skin.

“Then, let’s christen our home properly.”

With that, Alec wraps his legs around his boyfriend’s waist, and flips them over, so now he’s on top, straddling him.

Magnus seems to like the idea, ‘cause he smiles and attaches his mouth to Alec’s chest, prompting himself against the headboard.

Alec takes his hands and guides them onto his hips, grinding down with a little more force.

“You’re a wild thing, angel.” Magnus teases, pulling back to look at him.

“Only with you.” Alec stretches to get to the bedside table, drawing out a bottle of lube, practically shoving in to Magnus’ chest. “Hurry.”

Magnus looks at him with a smirk written on his face, quickly pouring the lube onto his fingers. Alec shivers at the cold touch when Magnus reaches behind him to place his fingers near his entrance. Then he slowly pushes one digit in and Alec grabs onto his shoulders to keeps still, and ground himself.

As Magnus slowly moves his fingers into him, the slight pain quickly turns into pleasure and Alec whimpers at the incredible feeling, gripping tighter onto his boyfriend.

When third finger joins the rest Alec throws his head back with a low moan and Magnus starts placing kisses onto his throat.

Soon Alec starts panting, the feeling so amazing, but becoming too much, and he doesn’t want to finish yet.

“Magnus…” He breathes out. “I’m ready. Need you.”

The Warlock pulls back to look at him, smiling and despite his erratic breathing, Alec does too.

“Whatever you need, angel.” Magnus states sweetly, withdrawing his fingers, swiftly lubing himself and placing his hands on Alec hips, guiding him down to take him in.

Alec gasps at this wonderful sensation of Magnus pushing into him, so delicately, drawing out the feeling of bliss, he can’t help but groan in pleasure. He slowly lowers himself till he’s straddling Magnus again, and when he’s fully seated, he brings their lips back together.

Magnus’ hands touch every part of his body they can reach, sweeping over his back, going onto his ass and then back up again. Soon Alec needs to break the kiss to get some air into his lungs.

Then he starts moving, gentle up and down moves, but already feeling so good he senses the pleasure building up low in his stomach.

“You feel amazing, darling.” Magnus pants into his ear, stirring his hips up to meet his thrusts and Alec moans again, encouraged to move faster.

He’ll never be able to explain how exquisite is that feeling, of having Magnus so close to him, connected. He feels like all his senses are heightened. Every touch is vibrating against his skin, every sound Magnus makes is loud and pleasant in his ears and when he places his nose against Magnus’ neck, inhaling deeply, the smell of sandalwood and cologne is gently tickling his nostrils.

But when opens his eyes and looks down on his boyfriend, the sight that he sees is just marvellous.

Magnus always looks beautiful, but when they are like this, when he can just let go, that’s when Alec loves to watch him the most. Hair a mess, make-up smudged, body drizzled with sweat. He’s the most gorgeous person Alec has ever seen.

Then Alec cries out in pleasure, the sound ripping through the quite of their bedroom, as Magnus thrusts his hips up, driving deeper into him, finding his sweet spot.

Alec arches his back and starts rolling his hips, drawing out the feeling.

Magnus groans, as his hands tighten on Alec’s hips, and suddenly he’s flipping them over, hovering above his boyfriend, hungry look on his face.

“You said you wanted to do this properly.” Magnus smirks at him.

“Oh, was it not proper enough for you?” Alec chokes out, fake expression of hurt on his face, slowly turning into a grin.

“It was more than enough,” Magnus begins as he starts stirring his hips into Alec. “But I want to have you in every way, every position, every place. All at once.”

Every word is followed with a roll of hips, and even though it’s physically impossible, Alec can’t help but moan, the combination of Magnus’ words and his thrusts, so lovely.

“Well, if we want to do this properly,” Alec gasps. “you should have me in every room.”

“I certainly like this idea, darling.” Magnus’ moves become a bit faster, drawing out another whimper from Alec.

He hooks his legs around Magnus’ waist, lifting them a bit higher, which gives him this amazing angle again.

Magnus kisses him hard, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth, but the kiss shortly turns into panting, as they both get lost in the sensation. But when Alec tries to get his hand between them to finish himself off, Magnus quickly laces their fingers together, lifting their join palms above Alec’s head.

“I thought we were doing this properly?” Magnus teases against his lips.

Alec’s only answer is to growl, Magnus instantly swallowing the sound with his mouth.

The feeling starts to become overwhelming, he doesn’t want it to end yet, but at the same time, he’s craving the release.

“Magnus,” He gets out between his sharp breaths. “Harder.”

Magnus meets his gaze, grin widening as he starts pounding into him with incredible force.

Alec moans again, loud and long, arching his back, trying to get him deeper, even though it’s impossible.

“God, I love you so much.” Magnus gasps above him, and Alec’s hands tighten the hold on his.

“I love you too.” Alec’s words are followed with another groan. “So much.”

Minutes and hours could have passed, and Alec would like to stay like this forever. The blissful pleasure threatening to blow out any second, but still he wants to extend it a while longer.

“Don’t stop.” Alec is babbling now, not even caring how wrecked he sounds. “Please.”

“Please what, angel?” Magnus whispers into his ear. His own breath comes out in short pans, but he’s not slowing down his movements.

“Please, just-“ Alec cries out as Magnus hits his sweet spot dead-on. “Just like this.”

Magnus places a kiss to his jaw, using his whole body to thrust into him even harder.

“You’re incredible. My sweet angel.”

Alec smiles at the praise, eyes rolling to the back of his head from the overwhelming pleasure. Magnus growls above him, and with the next roll of his hips Alec comes undone. The pleasure rolling of off him and the pleasant shiver pierces his skin

And as he starts clenching around Magnus, it sends him over the edge, Alec feels the incredible sensation of his own release, and of Magnus spilling inside him.

Magnus still rocks into him, drawing out the rest of their climaxes and Alec almost sobs as he’s becoming oversensitive, but as he feels his boyfriend lips connecting with his, the feeling gets long forgotten, lost in the pleasure of his hot mouth.

Magnus collapses on top of him, breathing hard he lets go of Alec’s hands which the Shadowhunter instantly brings around him, holding him close.

“I hate leaving you darling,” Magnus gasps out into his skin. “But the returns are my favourite.”

Alec lets out a chuckle, kissing the side of Magnus’ head lightly.

“I really missed you.” He states softly, running his hand through the Warlock’s damp hair.

Magnus hums in appreciation as he carefully pulls out of him and rolls over to rest on his back next to Alec.

Alec instantly gets closer to him, Magnus’ arm wandering around his back, tracing his runes with warm, pleasant fingers.

“I’m so glad to have you here.” The Warlock states with a kiss on top of Alec’s head.

“You’ve always had me.” Alec lifts his head from his chest to look at him, and the affection in Magnus’ eyes is nearly overwhelming.

“I know, angel.” Magnus’ fingers are still outlining the black lines on his back, that Alec’s sure he already knows by heart. “It’s just like, another step for us.”

And Alec really wants to think out their next one. So many possibilities, so many plans for the future they will share together. Marriage, children… Maybe one day. When he’ll be sure this is what Magnus wants.

So instead of saying anything just now, he kisses his boyfriend softly on the lips, smiling back at him, sure that the adoration is clearly written in his eyes.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, angel.”

#malec fanfic #malec #shadowhunters #smut #fluff #moving in #Alec Lightwood #Magnus Bane

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nadiineross · 6 years

Text

note: this was gonna be for day 4 but i didnt get it in time so i guess it sucks to suck

Chloe’s hometown was once again in the strange transitional state between summer and fall where the sun still burned brightly in the day but the night air was just a touch above too cold. At sunset, the entirety of town breathed a sigh of relief like how one would upon entering an air-conditioned room after slaving about under the smothering heat all day.

What they got was a pleasantly cool evening, fewer bugs, and the sounds of muted chatter. Townspeople took out their plates and chairs, sitting on their porches and yards to enjoy the reprieve.

The Frazer-Ross household was one of the few who hadn’t taken to the outdoors, though their lovely semi-transparent curtains did present themselves to the town through open windows.

The sliding door leading to the backyard was left open, living room lights swelling past the glittering curtains onto the grass.

Inside, Nadine was placing dishes into the table, carefully straightening out the forks and spoons, and folding a napkin delicately to tuck under a plate. Chloe’s phone was plugged into the speakers, the volume turned low so that Nadine could barely make out the words of the song.

“Chloe,” she called and frowned, glancing quickly over her shoulder at the kitchen.

“Yes, love?” came through the open doorway.

“Louder, please.”

Chloe complied. Billy Joel’s crooning drifted through the walls, around corners, and out into the backyard too. Nadine began to hum along to the music, enjoying the peaceful ambience.

Suddenly, the fairy lights extended over their backyard flickered on. They glowed a soft orange, hung in uneven rows. Those that were in need of a change blinked on and off. Chloe had set it all up herself half a year ago after she had sent Nadine off with an absurdly long grocery list and surprised her with a picnic blanket under it later in the night.

They were both well past forty, been with each other over a decade, and the way they acted with each other, the sweetness of it, sometimes still surprised even Nadine. It wasn’t to say they’d gone soft because she doubted she’d ever know how to do that. They were just in the habit of making each other smile.

As if on cue, the music turned up even more and Nadine’s grin widened.

The table was as neat as it was ever gonna be, so she left it alone, reaching up to undo her hastily scraped updo and pushing the loose curls away from her face.

Perhaps it was the ambience setting the mood, perhaps this was just the kind of person she’d grown to be—she slipped her eyes closed and began to sing softly. When a warm presence hovered behind her, she broke off, eyes blinking open to see the soft glow of their fairy lights. Behind her, Chloe picked up where she left off. She wound one arm around Nadine’s middle and swept Nadine’s hair off one shoulder so she could slot her chin in.

The whole thing was terribly cheesy; even alone, Nadine would have been mortified by the thought of doing this if she were ten years younger.

Slowly, she relaxed into Chloe’s embrace and started again in a hum, eyes closed. Chloe pressed a grin to her neck, a kiss, and sang louder. Neither of them would ever be good enough to go for a professional singing career, but Nadine thought that they sounded pleasant enough for a pair of thieves. At least, not ear-shatteringly terrible.

Chloe’s body lulled Nadine’s into a sway and led her away from the table in an effort to avoid potential toe-stubbings. Emboldened, Nadine joined in for the last line.

Chloe exhaled softly. It could’ve been a huffed laugh or a simple expression of happiness, Nadine couldn’t tell.

The next song, something acoustic, played after the saxophone faded out. They slowed to a stop. Smiling, Nadine turned her head, eyes downcast to watch Chloe push her head against her neck, and brushed the corner of her lips against Chloe’s temple. Contented, Chloe hummed tunelessly against the heat of her skin.

Before she pulled away, she stooped impossibly closer and gave the meat of Nadine’s neck a playful tug with her teeth. It was jarring, that and the sudden absence of Chloe flush against her.

Nadine hissed, swivelling around to give her an admonishing glare.

Chloe simply smiled over her shoulder, halfway to the kitchen door already. Then, although it was said like a flippant line, she said sincerely: “Wait one second please.”

Huffing, she waited.

Mid-word, the song changed to something she didn’t recognise. It was faster than the other two but not overly so, and the voice was low and smooth. The volume jacked up suddenly and Chloe came skidding out a beat later.

Nadine couldn’t stop the wide grin at the mere sight of Chloe’s giddiness, dropping the huffy attitude in favour of opening her stance so Chloe could barrel into her. She swung around Nadine’s middle, picking her up into the air for a spin.

“Come on,” Chloe said, glee making her almost giggly. She would be appalled if Nadine voiced this so she didn’t. “Dance with me.”

Her enthusiasm was infectious, and Nadine found herself laughing along. Chloe set her down on the other side of the table and drew her by her the hand into their backyard. Their feet were bare against the grass and dirt, and Nadine knew she’d have to shower again just to get the muck out between her toes but she couldn’t find it in herself to mind. Chloe was, after all, beaming like she’d won the lottery or landed a heart-dropping leap, and what else was Nadine to do except indulge her.

Chloe smoothed her hands over the top of Nadine’s airy blouse and then back up to her shoulders. Without further prompting, Nadine snaked her arms around Chloe’s middle and settled them at the small of her back.

Washed in orange, they danced and stared at each other and tried not to crack up when their eyes met.

Nadine felt faintly like a lovestruck teenager enjoying a domestic moment with her high school sweetheart. She wondered then, briefly, what young Chloe would’ve been like and in quick succession, thanked God for blessing her with an adult one. She doubts her former self would enjoy the company of a bratty teenage Chloe, the uppity kid she was, always seeking her father’s approval.

The song changed again, to something classical this time. Chloe immediately adopted a stern face and, rather dramatically, stepped away to bow.

“You queued this to do this specifically, didn’t you,” Nadine said as she took Chloe’s hand anyway and let herself be swept into a wide waltz.

“Absolutely,” she replied, readily.

“Ridiculous.”

Chloe laughed and smiled, charmingly. “You bring it out of me.”

“You too,” Nadine said, softer.

They bumped into a flower pot, but neither of them was particularly stringent about garden maintenance and Nadine led them off to the other end of their backyard.

“What else do I bring out of you?” Chloe asked, coyly.

Before Nadine could reply, Chloe spun her with some flair and yanked her closer. Using the momentum, Chloe backed them up the single step into their home and fell into the couch a short stumble away. Nadine’s laugh dissipated into a short huff as she landed on top of Chloe, propping herself on her elbows so she didn’t crush her wife completely. Chloe watched her, carefully, eyes gleaming in the light, and pushed a palm up to cover Nadine’s cheek. A smile teased at her lips.

They were quiet for a moment, the sound of violins filling in the calm.

Finally, Nadine dipped her head down for a languid, tongueless kiss. When she backed up, Chloe followed her for a moment until she relaxed back into the cushion. Nadine hovered only an inch away, eyes crinkled with her grin.

“Hi.”

Chloe rubbed a thumb against her cheek. “Hey.”

“Did you have fun?” she asked, indulging.

“I did.” Chloe nodded, nose brushing against Nadine’s as she did. “Did you?”

“Ja,” she said with a laugh. Nadine kissed her again, sighing through her nose when Chloe returned it with enthusiasm.

The music had returned to their Billy Joel playlist in the time spent making out and whispering silly things to each other.

Eventually, Nadine let up, hoisting Chloe to her feet by the single arm she’d wound around her back. Chloe lay her hands on Nadine’s collar bones and aimed sloppily for her cheek, getting her jaw instead. She patted Nadine’s cheek before she stepped away with a laugh.

“God,” Chloe exhaled, “I’m in love with you.”

Nadine blinked, smiled, then went a bit red. This wasn’t exactly news to her, seeing as they were married and all, but they weren’t the type to be so candid with their affection. Usually, they were a show-don’t-tell kind of couple, and it suited them just fine.

“Thanks, wife, I’d hope so,” Nadine said, lieu of replying in kind.

Chloe pouted. “Come on, I’ve been so romantic all night.”

Huffing a laugh, Nadine steered her to the kitchen and gave a gentle shove. Inside, the dishes Chloe had been preparing were waiting in steaming plates on the counter. A bottle of wine stood uncorked.

Before Nadine could make for the plates, Chloe shot out to grab her wrist and hauled her closer.

“Really?”

“Yes,” Chloe said, deathly serious, and then nestled her head in the crook of Nadine’s neck, sighing into the hollow at the base of her throat.

Nadine pressed her head into Chloe’s temple and failed spectacularly in suppressing her grin. “I married you, dickhead.”

Chloe nodded against her. “That, you did.”

A beat later, Nadine brushed her lips against Chloe’s forehead, murmured a quiet “love you,” and untangled herself from their impromptu hug.

They made quick work of setting the table and dug in.

Out of nowhere, Chloe poked Nadine’s calf with her toe and waited for her to glance up.

“It’s good.”

“What’s good?”

“That you love me. That I love you.”

“Are you on something?” Nadine raised her eyebrows and bounced a fork in her hand. “What’s gotten into you? You alright?”

Chloe scoffed. “Wow. Meet a girl in a war zone and woo her so thoroughly, she goes and forgets all about the rocky start.”

Nadine stared at her for a drawn-out second.

Chloe raised her eyebrows.

She speared some food onto her fork, attempting for nonchalant. “We don’t celebrate this anniversary.”

“Yes, we do,” Chloe insisted. “We do the decades.”

“The dec—?”

Nadine stopped short. Her fork hovered in the air until she slowly put it down.

Ten whole years, she’d known and grown to love this infuriatingly gorgeous, cunningly intelligent woman. Chloe smiled as she watched realisation dawn on Nadine. She looked ethereal, grinning like she’d won the lottery and outlined by a faint orange glow from their fairy lights.

Nadine was overcome by the urge to hold Chloe again and, never one to shy away from going after what she wanted, she put down her fork and stood.

Chloe made a sound of protest. “Oi, I made us this and you’d better eat it.”

“Half of this is microwaved leftovers that I cooked,” Nadine pointed out.

“Yes, and I microwaved it,” Chloe started, but then stopped when Nadine dragged her chair back and settled into her lap. “Oh.”

“You’re so annoying.”

“You were always a sweet talker.”

Nadine forwent a response, pulling Chloe closer by the back of her neck. They stayed together for several long seconds before parting. Her eyes were a stormy grey, her swollen lower lip squeezed between a row of white teeth.

“Happy anniversary,” Chloe murmured, arching up to lick into Nadine’s mouth.

Breathless and grinning wildly, Nadine cupped Chloe’s neck in both palms to keep her from straying. Not that she had any intention of doing so.

Against her lips, Nadine returned the sentiment, “Happy anniversary.”

#chlodine #tll #chlodinefics

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joeybelle · 6 years

Text

Oh, how the tables have turned -- Part 4

Clyde Logan x Reader

Inspired by @clyde-prompts: “Some guys are rude and use ableist slurs against Clyde. The reader is with them, and although she feels bad about what’s happening, is too scared to say anything in front of her “friends”. She comes back to the bar a couple nights later to try and show him she’s not a bad person. They get to know each other and fall in love”. Doesn’t fully follow the prompt

Warnings: Language, first person POV, driving under the influence cause I assume everyone does it in that movie, IDK what I’m doing.

Rating: Mature

Setting: Pre-Heist

Tags: @lonelyravenclaw @kyloren-supreme-ben @onmyknees4steve @elsablackswift @helloimindelaware @mwcritics

A.N: Aaaaand part 4 is here, hope you guys enjoy it!

“Me?” I said, taken by surprise. “You want to get me one too?”

“Yep,” he said, not looking me in the eye.

“Okay.” I grinned and turned to look at the booth, scanning the toys on display. To be honest, none of them caught my eye, but I really wanted Clyde to win me one.

“Get her the big one,” Jimmy butted in after placing Sadie back on the ground, pointing to a giant white teddy bear with a checkered bow under his chin that was placed above the other toys.

“Do you want that one?” Clyde asked me and I shrugged. I didn’t really care, since it wasn’t about the toy.

“Any of them is fine, really.”

“Okay.”

“You need to hit those ten targets for the big one. Bullseye,” said the man behind the counter, annoyance clearly visible on his face. By the way he frowned he didn’t seem to be used to people winning his game that easily.

Clyde paid the fee and took the rifle once again. This time he used his prosthetic arm for added stability and took his time to aim. My breath caught in my throat with every shot and with every fallen target my excitement grew. Bullseye after bullseye until the seventh target didn’t fall. It was weird, because I was pretty sure it was also a bullseye. Clyde frowned, just as confused as me, but proceeded to hit the other targets.

“Well, better luck next time,” the man said, with a satisfied grin on his face, extending his hand to take the gun back from Clyde.

“I want another round,” Clyde said, pushing the money towards him.

“Uuuh… maybe we should let someone else try?” the man tried getting away from this. He seemed like a really unpleasant person. “It’s a kid’s game after all.”

“Really?” Jimmy asked, leaning on the counter. “Cause I don’t see any sign sayin’ ‘you gotta be this old to shoot’. And his money was good enough the first three rounds.”

“Well, you see…”

“No, I don’t see,” he cut him off, and for a moment his voice became pretty threatening. “Let him try again, he’s got a girl to impress.”

I knew I was blushing so I pretended to be very interested in the contents of another booth, missing the rest of the conversation. When I was sure that my cheeks had somewhat regained their normal colour, Clyde was ready to shoot once again. This time, he aimed for the seventh target alone. Ten shots later, one more precise than the other, and the target was still standing.

“The spring is too strong for the power of this rifle. No matter how many times you shoot it won’t budge.”

“It’s not true, maybe you didn’t hit it right in the center.”

“I’m sure I did,” he said and for the first time his voice took on a menacing tone.

“Really, old man? Have you seen him shoot? I can guarantee that he landed every shot.”

“The target’s still standing, there’s nothing...”

“Do you want me to bring a real gun, I’ve got one in my car. See if your targets still stands then. But you gotta hope he doesn’t miss and lands one in that crusty ass of yours.” He seemed really serious this time so I decided it was time to intervene before shit hit the fan. Both brothers seemed really stubborn, and I could understand why, but it just wasn’t worth it. Everyone knew these games were rigged, and it’s not like I really wanted that toy.

I walked over to Clyde and placed my hand on his elbow to get his attention. He looked at me and the tense expression on his face loosened up a bit. “It’s ok,” I said softly, trying to get him to calm down. “I don’t really need the toy. I’m already impressed so no need to get into an argument for this.”

“Give him the damn bear, or I’m setting your booth on fire,” I heard Jimmy snarl, and my jaw dropped. So much for trying to de-escalate the situation.

“You can’t do that,” the man laughed, but there was fear in his eyes.

“Try me.”

The vendor looked from Jimmy to Clyde, who had a steely expression on his face, to me, still clinging onto Clyde’s elbow like a scared mouse, to Mellie who had a mocking smile on her face. Sadie was the only one who was hugging her toy and didn’t seem to give a damn. The man sighed and muttered an array of curses, but took the bear and threw it on the counter.

“Take it and get lost! I don’t wanna see any of you ever again!” he spat and turned his back to us.

I realized I was still clinging to Clyde’s arm when he moved to place the rifle on the counter so I let go. I was so close I could smell his cologne and it send a shiver down my spine. He didn’t seem to notice as he grabbed the bear so I did my best not to appear flustered when he returned.

“Here you go,” he said, handing me the giant teddy, his face calm once again, like he hadn’t been ready to snap that man’s neck just a few moments before. I cheerfully thanked him and took the toy.

The bear was huge. It might not have been as tall as me, but it was definitely much wider. I struggled to hold it, trying my best not to drag its feet on the ground and mess up its pristine, white coat. With it in my arms I couldn’t see the ground I was walking on and nearly stepped on Sadie who was laughing at me the whole time.

“I think it’s better if I carry that,” Clyde said, taking the bear from my grasp. He was taller, so the toy didn’t seem to smother him like it did to me. He grabbed it by the bow and flung it over his shoulder like a duffle bag.

“Thanks,” I said, able to breathe once again, “but now I should be going. I still have a lot of things to do today and I have work tomorrow, so…”

The whole outing ended up being much longer than the half an hour I had promised in the beginning, but I didn't mind. I had some time to catch up with Mellie as we were stuffing our faces and I was pleasantly surprised that we still got along pretty well. Sadie was a sweetheart and despite finding him a little annoying at first, Jimmy was really nice too. His sense of humour was a little blunt and sometimes pretty acid, but I liked him. Clyde kept his distance most of the time, and didn’t talk to me that much, but I guessed that was just how he was. He didn’t really seem bothered by my presence, so I just assumed he was a bit more of the introverted type. But no matter how much I enjoyed it, it was time for me to go home.

“Alright,” Clyde said, and for the first time no one argued. “I’ll walk you to your car.” At first I wanted to protest because I’m a big girl and I can see myself to the car, but then I realized that if a cute guy wants to walk with me, why should I refuse? After all, I really liked him and this was a chance to spend five minutes alone with him. Yes, I knew nothing would happen, but my brain latched onto any tiny amount of hope.

“Don’t forget to call about the roof,” Jimmy said, picking Sadie up and giving her a kiss.

I’d completely forgotten about the roof. “Yeah, I will give you a call the moment I know when I’m free,” I lied and ruffled Sadie’s hair. I told her she could come visit me anytime she wanted, to help me find the blueberry bushes in the chaos that was currently my garden. Mellie gave me a hug and promised she’d call when she had some time off so we’d get coffee together and catch up on things.

I turned to look at Clyde and burst out laughing at how comical he looked with his serious face and the head of the bear peeking over his shoulder. “I kinda see a resemblance between the two of you,” I said, pointing towards the bear’s nose, making Clyde turn his head to look at it. “I think I’ll name it ‘Clyde The Bear’, whatcha say, Sadie?”

“Yesss!” she laughed, and Clyde the Human frowned at the both of us.

“Well, take care of both of them,” Jimmy said with a wink, before being dragged by Sadie to another attraction.

“Bye, sweetie,” Mellie waved and followed her brother.

So now it was just me and Clyde and I had a feeling it was going to get awkward fast, so I started walking towards where I remembered parking my car earlier that day. Clyde followed me closely, like a big and benevolent shadow.

“Are you really gonna name it Clyde the Bear?” he asked out of the blue.

“Yeah. I mean, if it doesn’t bother you.”

“No, it doesn’t bother me,” he said and he had the tiniest of smiles on his face.

“Ok then, Clyde the Bear it is,” I said with a grin, but he looked away.

He was silent the rest of the way to my car. I unlocked it and he shoved the giant toy in the backseat, making sure to position it so that I could still use my rearview mirror. I was getting ready to thank him and say goodbye when he spoke again.

“I wanted to apologize,” he said, passing a hand through his hair.

“For what?” I was genuinely confused. He’d already apologized for Jimmy kidnapping me for the day, and I really hoped he noticed that I was having a really good time so he wouldn’t start again.

“For being rude to you. Last time, at the bar…” He seemed really nervous once again.

“You weren’t being rude,” I said, suddenly nervous myself. “I crossed some boundaries without realizing. And I may have also overreacted a bit. The exit might have a bit more dramatic than necessary,” I mumbled.

“Anyway,” he said, and it seemed like he was making a conscious effort to force the words out of his mouth. “I’m gonna be at the bar later if you wanna drop by and have some drinks. On the house, of course,” he added, increasingly flustered.

This was getting tricky, because I didn’t really know if he was asking me out or just trying to make it up to me for the rejection. I knew I could always ask, but given the way he reacted to me asking him out the last time, the direct approach didn’t seem to be the best idea. So now I really didn’t know if he was interested or not, but I decided to go with the flow. If he liked me, he’d tell me at some point and if not, I’d still make a friend, and that was great. Just don’t fall too deep.

“I’m not sure I’ll be able to drop by tonight,” I told him, truthfully. “I still have a lot of things to do and an early class tomorrow, but can I take a rain check on that?”

“Yeah, yeah, of course. You’re always welcome to come over. Anytime you want.”

“Perfect, thank you.” I smiled. He was really cute when he was flustered like that.

I said goodbye and got in my car. He followed me with his gaze until I left the parking lot, and even then I could still see his outline in the rearview mirror. A gentle giant in the sea of parked vehicles, watching over me. It made me smile.

I don’t really know how I got home, because my mind was full of Clyde Logan and replays of every little detail of what happened earlier that day. I really hoped I hadn’t ran anyone over with my car, because I was pretty sure I didn’t need the jail time.

I pulled Clyde the Bear out of the backseat and kicked the door shut, almost stumbling down in the process. I was surprised to notice that it faintly smelled like Clyde’s cologne. While I was planning to shove it in the washing machine the moment I got home I was starting to have second thoughts.

I went straight to my bedroom and threw the bear onto my bed, then after a few seconds of pondering I plopped down next to it. I was so tired. It ended up being really fun day, despite the odds, but it left me drained of energy. Walking around and eating all that crap had taken a toll on me, but I was sure that if I only closed my eyes and rested for ten minutes I’d be able to finish the chores for the day. And who knows, maybe even grab a beer at Clyde’s bar later that night.

When I woke up it was already dark. I had to fish the phone out of my pocket to see how late it actually was. Ten thirty. Crap. Double crap. I hadn’t planned on falling asleep at all, let alone for so many hours, still dressed in my day clothes, in the most uncomfortable position ever. Every inch of my body hurt.

I crawled over to the bathroom and peeled off my clothes, discarding them in the already full laundry basket. I had laundry to do. Well, it was too late for that now, but luckily I still had some clean work clothes for the next day. I was running out of underwear though. I stepped into the shower, hoping that the water would help clear the brain fog the impromptu nap had left behind. Even if I skipped doing the laundry, I still had a mountain of dishes left to fester in the kitchen sink. I had nothing prepared for tomorrow’s lunch so I’d have to either starve or eat out, and since my budget was running tight, I couldn’t really afford to eat out if I wanted to buy groceries this week. And speaking of groceries, there wasn’t much left in the fridge anyway, so I’d have to make do with just toast and coffee in the morning. I hadn’t vacuumed. I hadn’t cleaned the bathroom. There was a report that I promised I’d start working on today. I was screwed.

I spent the next fifteen minutes just laying down on my bed, wrapped in a towel, completely overwhelmed. I didn’t even know where to start, so in the heat of the moment I decided to just not do any of it. In a burst of energy given by the power of insanity I threw the towel on the floor and rummaged through my closet, looking for anything clean. I got dressed in a hurry—after all, I had no idea at what hour the bar was closing and tomorrow was a work day—grabbed my purse and was out the door without even looking back at my forgotten responsibilities. I didn’t take the car, instead I walked. It was only a fifteen minute walk at most, and I wanted to enjoy the cool night air.

The bar was surprisingly lively when I entered. There were a lot more people than the last time I’d been there, watching a game on the flat screen tv. There were a few people seated at the bar, so I chose to sit in a corner, as far away from the others as possible.

“Finished all your work?” Clyde asked from the other side of the counter.

“Yeah, yeah,” I lied, but couldn’t keep a straight face. “By which I mean I fell asleep the moment I got home and napped until like half an hour ago and did absolutely nothing.” Clyde laughed and it was the first time I’d heard him laugh out loud. “So I did what every responsible adult would do in this situation: went out for a drink.”

“What can I get you?”

“I don’t know. A beer?” I shrugged.

“It’s on the house, are you sure you don’t want anything else?”

“Hmm… I think I’ll trust my bartender then,” I said, flashing him one of my best smiles.

“Another cocktail or something stronger this time?” he asked, placing a napkin in front of me.

“I walked here, and since I know I won’t fall asleep after that nap, I might as well get shitfaced and faint instead. Gimme something strong.”

“Alright,” he said, placing two shot glasses on the counter, one in front of me and one in front of himself. He chose a bottle from the rack behind me and filled the glasses. “Cheers,” he said, lifting his glass.

I imitated him, downing my own drink. The sudden burn of the alcohol running down my throat made me grimace, no matter how much I tried keeping a straight face. He just smirked.

“Is it better or worse than your expensive vodka?” he asked, the smirk still playing on his lips. He seemed a lot more open and in a much better mood than he was earlier that day, something that made me think the shot of vodka he had shared with me wasn’t the first one of the night. But I wasn’t complaining, not at all. Anything that kept the smile on his face was good by me. He was much cuter when he smiled.

“I have no idea, to be honest. I only drink for the buzz, the drink itself doesn't really matter. Besides, I’ve been drinking cheap alcohol for so long that I think I’ve fried my tastebuds already.”

“Well then, maybe you should start drinking better alcohol,” he said, this time chilling the vodka over ice and pouring it in a tumbler, before placing the glass in front of me. “And savour it.”

“Aye aye, Captain,” I said, smiling at the seriousness in his voice. “You know, I still have like… three quarters of the bottle left. I’m waiting for you to come and tell me if it’s worth the shitload of money my friends paid for it.”

“I might actually take you up on that offer one day,” he said, and turned around to tend to other customers. Oh, will you now?

“Well then you better hurry, cause I keep drinking from it and it will be empty eventually,” I said, raising my voice to make sure he could hear me.

What kind of game are you playing with me, Clyde Logan, I thought taking the opportunity to check out his ass. He really had a great ass. And an amazing back. I tried imagining what his bare skin would feel like under my fingers and if all of his body was just as full of beauty marks as his face. I took a big gulp of vodka, hoping that the alcohol would purify my thoughts and I actually remembered to swish it though my mouth before letting it burn down my esophagus. Yep, it tasted exactly like vodka. And future bad decisions.

“So how come we never talked in highschool?” I asked, once he turned back to me. “I mean, we must have bumped into each other, the school wasn’t that big.” It wasn’t my intention to talk about his crush on me, but it really bugged me how I’d never noticed him. I know the thing about secret admirers is the ‘secret’, but you should at least be aware of their existence.

He shrugged. “I guess I just used to be invisible.”

“I can hardly believe that,” I laughed. “Even if you were just half as big as you are now, you would have still been pretty noticeable.” I took another gulp of vodka, to make sure I had a reason to be blushing. “I have no idea what I just said but you should probably take it as a compliment.”

Clyde smiled and refilled my glass, then poured one for himself too. “I mostly kept to myself. I didn’t like attracting too much attention.”

“Why’s that?”

“People laughed,” he said, and a shadow passed over his features. He hastily downed his drink, as though he tried to wash away the memory.

“Well, people are shit,” I announced in a theatrical tone. It seemed that the alcohol had already gone to my head. “You should have come to me and my friends instead.”

“Really?” he smiled, and leaned on the counter.

“Yeah, we were awesome. Not asholes or anything. You would have loved us,” I said, and chuckled at the blatant lie. Truth was, many wanted to be us, but no one really liked us. “Maggie would have made a cheerleader out of you. And you would have been good at it,” I said pointing a finger at his nose. “You’re tall and athletic and you could have pulled that… that… the fuck was it called? When you throw someone in the air and catch them before they faceplant?”

“How come you didn’t join the cheerleading squad?”

“I tried. Went with Maggie to the tryouts. She made the team and I broke my nose,” I said with a grimace. “There was blood everywhere. But I think if you would have been on the team you would have caught me.”

“I would have tried my best.”

“It wasn’t for me anyway. Too much work and too many people looking at my ass in that short skirt. I didn’t really like my ass back then.”

“I liked your ass,” he said, and I saw the exact moment he realized what he had said, because all colour drained from his face.

“Well, I like your ass now,” I said looking at him over the rim of my glass, as the blood rushed back to his face. Luckily another patron called for him, so he didn’t have to say anything and gave him a moment to compose himself.

I was pretty sure he now knew I was checking his ass, because he had a smirk plastered on his face when he returned a few minutes later to fill my glass.

“Oh, I’m not sure that’s wise,” I said, staring into the clear liquid with both want and fear. “If you keep refilling my glass at this rate I’ll drink it and may not be able to walk back home. I could sleep under one of the tables,” I said, the alcohol already affecting my thinking.

“If you wait until closing time, I can take you home,” he offered and I had to make an effort not to say something stupid. “They’re already starting to leave, it won’t take much longer before I can close.”

“Thank you. I’d love that,” I said, blissfully ignoring the nagging feeling that I was really going to regret this in the morning.

The rest of the night was calm, except for the commotion created by a couple’s announcement of their second baby being on the way. I congratulated them, even though I had absolutely no idea who the fuck they were. She seemed to know me so I just smiled and answered her questions. Clyde kept refilling my glass, but much slower this time, making sure I didn’t end up being a slobbering mess. He handed me a water bottle at the exact right time, and in that moment I was pretty sure I loved him.

By the time everyone left the bar I was pretty drunk, but I was still in control of my own actions, which showed what a responsible adult I’d become, that didn’t get shitfaced when they went out. Well, Clyde was more to thank for this, because with the mindset I came into the bar earlier that evening, if he put a bottle of vodka in front of me I would have tried drinking it all. Now, there was just a pleasant buzz in my head, and a slight numbness in my fingertips.

“Don’t we have to start cleaning now?” I asked, walking around the empty bar. With the door locked and the TV turned off, the place looked a lot more cozy than before.

“No,” he replied from behind the counter. “I’ll clean up in the morning.”

The bar was an odd combination of old and new. The flat screen TVs contrasted wildly with the old jukebox in the corner. The tables were pretty worn out, but the pool tables looked pretty new, or at least, refurbished.

“Pity. I would have liked to help. Reminds me of my college years,” I said. “You know my first job in college was busboy? Bus...girl? Is this gendered?”

“Really?”

“Yeah, a friend helped me get this job at a club he worked at. I hated it, but I could go to classes in the morning.”

“You know where to find me if you ever need a job.” Well, you know where to find me if you ever need a blowjob, but I wasn’t drunk enough to say that out loud. Might imagine it later, though. “I could use some help around here sometimes.”

“I’ll let you know if I ever plan on changing my career. But I have to warn you, I once poured beer on my shoes instead of my cup, and I was sober. So don’t expect much from me.”

“You’d just need a little practice and I think you’d do great,” he said, closing the register and going around the bar. “You’d bring in a lot of people cause you’re pretty.”

“What, come for the bartender, stay for the drinks? Good tactic, I know someone it works on,” I said, winking. He smiled and turned off the lights before locking the door behind us.

“I can walk home,” I said, the cool air clearing my thoughts a little. “You don’t have to take a detour just for me. I’m not that drunk and a bit of fresh air will sober me up further.”

“No, I’m not letting you walk home. It’s cold. Get in,” he said, unlocking the car.

“As you wish,” I mumbled, and hopped in. Truth was, I was happy that he didn’t let me walk alone. Not because I was cold or afraid or anything—alcohol had a hand in that—but because I wanted to spend a little more time in his presence.

His car smelled faintly like cheap air freshener. The leather on the seats was pretty worn out but soft to the touch, so I melted in my seat and closed my eyes as Clyde turned on the engine and pulled out of the parking lot. I could probably fall asleep like this.

“Do you know where to go?”

“Yep,” he said, and then added after a few moments of silence. “When Jimmy was teaching me how to drive I backed up in your driveway and ran over a few rose bushes and broke your mailbox.”

I burst out laughing. “Oh my god, I remember that. I was away at camp and when I came back my mom told me that two idiots ran over our mailbox.”

“Yeah, it was us,” he laughed. “She was so angry I thought she’d beat the living shit out of us. She made us plant new flowers and build a new mailbox and then paint the fence and cut the grass as punishment. She was a scary woman.”

“Well you deserved it, I loved that mailbox. I painted it myself, I even painted butterflies on it,”

“I tried copying them, but ummm… it didn’t really come out that great.”

“Those were some terrible butterflies, Clyde. I had to repaint it.”

“I’m sorry about that,” he said and pulled into my driveway.

It was probably the first time I regretted not living at least few miles away. I was very comfortably nestled in the passenger seat and in my drunken state it felt like a good place to sleep. Especially if he kept driving and talking to me in that soothing voice. I wondered if he’d let me sleep in his car if I asked him.

“As you can see I no longer have a mailbox, so you can make it up to me for the butterflies by building a new one,” I said, straightening my back. It was time to go home and sleep like an adult. An adult that will have regrets in the morning.

“I’m not really good with that anymore,” he said, looking at his prosthetic. “But you should call my brother, he’s more skilled than me.”

“Only if you paint some really terrible butterflies on it. I don’t need it without the butterflies.”

“Okay, I will.”

“Promise?”

“Promise,” he laughed.

“Thank you for today. For the bear and the drinks and everything,” I said leaning a little closer to him. He looked really cute with a smile still lingering on his face. He had really beautiful lips. I bet they would feel really soft.

“Goodnight Clyde,” I said, pressing a kiss on his cheek. His skin felt cool against my burning lips. “I’ll be waiting for you to tell me if my vodka was worth the money,” I said getting out of the car.

“Yeah, yeah,” he said a little bit dazed. “You should come by the bar more often. If you feel like it,” he stumbled over his words a little.

“Will do. Goodnight.”

“Night.”

I kept debating as I walked to my door if I should just turn around and invite him over to taste the vodka and whatever else he might want to taste, but in the end I played it safe and got into the house. I could still see the headlights from his car as I took off my shoes and for a moment I wondered if he wasn’t having the same debate as me. Maybe he was braver, I hoped, but then I heard the engine and the car left my driveway.

I sighed and dragged my body to the bedroom. Clyde the Bear was taking up almost all the space so I just collapsed over him, burying my face in his white fur. “At least you love me, right?” I mumbled.

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cruzrogue · 6 years

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The Bakers on Staple Drive

Olicity Hiatus Fic-A-Thon - WEEK 3

This week’s prompt is:

Hidden. can read on A03

Hidden feelings? Hidden fantasies? Something hidden in the Loft? Somewhere in the city?

The rules are simple:

Every Friday I will post a new writing prompt.

You will have a week to write, beta, completely rework after a crisis of self-confidence, re-beta, and post your interpretation of the prompt the following week. (Yes, I’m a writer myself and am aware of the process we go through.)

Tag your response #OlicityHiatusFic, #OlicityHiatusFic-A-Thon, or #OHFAT (or all three for you overachievers out there). Make sure to use these tags on both Tumblr posts AND on AO3.

Tag me @thebookjumper in all your Tumblr posts.

Add your contribution to the Olicity Hiatus Fic-A-Thon 2018 collection on AO3.

Look for the next prompt. Lather, rinse, repeat.

HAVE FUN!

The Bakers on Staple Drive

‘They be coming for your girl. That pretty blond.’ He hears those words over and over while he lies in solitary confinement from beating a man to a pulp.

She’s supposed to be hidden away under A.R.G.U.S. Protection. He knows though deep inside she is defiant and is putting her life in danger and he isn’t there to scold and protect her.

<->

“William do you want another piece?” Felicity calls from behind the counter.

“No. I’m good.” He says as he gets up from the dining table and cleans up as their fixed body guard is at the head of the table looking at the view of the scanners placed around their safe home. To the outside world it looks like a couple and their son moved in a few weeks ago. Felicity dyed her to be a few shades darker to allow her natural color to come in.

A.R.G.U.S. did setup some state of the art computer equipment so Felicity would have something to do. Lyla was relieved that her friend even wanted to help on any mission that needs her expertise. Face time with John is Felicity’s only window to her past.

<->

Passing the two-story lovely cottage house on Staple Drive with its cute post mailing box saying ‘the Bakers’ and the white picket fence adorn with rose bushes no one can tell that it’s a well-constructed safe house with bullet proof windows and so many other amenities that yield to safety. Felicity is left in the safe room built within the house every single weekday as William is dropped off at summer camp that other agent’s kids go to and Derek isn’t there to protect her for five hours every day as he heads to a base not more than twenty miles away to keep up appearance of a working man so their neighbors don’t get suspicious.

Patting Derek’s arm is the closest contact she has with her guardian as she plays housewife. Derek and Rosie Baker with their son Adam. Derek is seen as a stern father keeping tabs on his son’s whereabouts when the neighborhood children love to bike everywhere.

They have been seen together as a family unit every Sunday as they head to church creating an illusion so chatter surrounding them is low. They then make an appearance at a local diner to eat before making the trip to the local grocery store. Other than that, the Bakers do keep to themselves as Mrs. Baker is a stay at home mother and their son is off in summer camp during the weekdays.

Rosie happens to be a devote Christian which makes Felicity roll her eyes as the Sunday brunch ladies exchange recipes and gossip and her new knowledge of passages of the New Testament she delivers on Sunday mass is work of art. William snickers at how she tells him that she could be an actress with all the lies she’s spurts out now a little afraid that she might even get struck by lightning when entering the church after the very animated pastor kept talking of the act of living in sin.

<->

Their days turn to weeks and soon Months and Felicity knows she can’t keep up this lie. Her moods follow repeatedly to missing Oliver to being so angry with him when silence in the quiet house catches her off guard especially when she becomes idle and she hates being idle. Diaz has been tended to but her life is upside down with their secret being out in the open. She really has no clue how William will take it when she tells him there is no way he can go back to a regular academic setting. She has been offered a job by Lucius Fox of Wayne Tech and she is thinking that might be a viable option. He sent her a package in Bruce Wayne’s behalf with details that could help her come from hiding. She wants to be Felicity not Rosie Baker, she wants her life back and she’s only been Rosie for six weeks.

She heard that Dinah got hurt really bad when a meta gang went after her luckily that Dig wasn’t far from her location or she would have bled out. Rene left Starling with his daughter before Diaz emerged from his hiding spot. She hates that it was Black Siren’s cooperation that helped capture the Dragon. Though in his final act before his take down he violently killed her. At least Quentin was spared living through that despair she thinks darkly. She didn’t know much about Curtis but after his boyfriend healed up, he vanished.

<->

Felicity is very protective of William it hurts her soul how yet again Oliver’s foolishness cost him dearly; being separated from his family.

Working for A.R.G.U.S. indirectly has given her an outlet and a way to target criminals and she is not going to let that dumb pine tree stay there any longer than necessary. She isn’t foolish she knows the government wants to use Oliver’s skills and even push at him by using extortion against the people he loves and she isn’t interested in being one of his weaknesses.

<->

Derek and William leave and she supposed to go the fortified room and do her diligence work from there. She thinks nothing of it as she dumps a garbage bag into its container off the side of the small balcony by the kitchen entry. When the neighbor calls out, “Good morning Rosie, do you have a minute?”

Felicity looks at the woman and thinks nothing of it. “Sure, come inside. I was just finishing up.”

“How do you like the neighborhood?”

“It’s nice.”

“It’s very quiet and secluded. Doesn’t it make you feel safe?” without waiting for Felicity’s answer “It makes you wonder what people are hiding in places like these.”

“I…”

“Your husband Derek, right?” Felicity just nods. “He was followed to that base a distance away.”

Felicity understood the implication and backed away slowly.

“I had my husband well associate take family pictures of the lovely Bakers.”

Felicity looked at the woman before peering to see that another person is coming up the walkway towards the open kitchen entry.

“Pleasantly surprised that there is a hefty price for your talents.” The woman calls out to her associate. “We won the jackpot.” The man enters the house and his sneer is evident as he looks at the subject that will give him a good payout.

They don’t display any weapons so Felicity takes off running as fast as she can to only to be tackled by the man. His heavy weight holding her down enough to also wind her. He moves only when she stops struggling and he drags her back to the kitchen and plops her on a chair.

“I’m going to get some rope.” He says as he takes a knife from its holder. “If she moves stab one of her legs.” The woman nods grabbing another chair to sit in front of her victim. She’s holding the blade towards Felicity’s thigh and seems content that Felicity won’t do anything stupid.

Felicity mumbles something that has the other woman asks, “What?” as she gets closer. It’s enough for Felicity to head butt her.

“Owe.” She holds her head a moment before her eyes search and finds a weapon right beside her. “It always looks cooler in movies.”

Moving out of the way as the object grazes her leg she twists herself around and kicks the neighbor as hard as possible than grabs the saucepan she was going to put in the dishwasher earlier and smacks the neighbor across the face. Not enough time to reach and close the door so Felicity runs from the room as the woman goes down.

She can hear a mans aggravated voice enter the open kitchen and is on her tail right away. She thinks about getting to the forfeited room which is just up the stairs to her left but a hand sloppily grabs her ankle and she’s begins to slightly fall luckily gets a hold of the banister to help stabilize herself. Throwing the dented saucepan at the man he ducks which gives her a moment to make it to the top and run as quickly to her safe spot to be hidden from these crazies.

She hits the distress button and sits behind the monitors as she locates the criminals in her home security system. The distress button also locks down the house and all the doors and windows automatically lock up. So, the intruders are in the house with her. If her heart rate wasn’t spiked with narrowly escaping her captives she could be enjoying the show before her. Its reminding her of one of those reality television shows she binge watched with William recently.

She sees that John is trying to contact her and she picks up.

“Felicity?”

“Hey, John I’m okay… really I am okay… umm just a little gash on my right thigh.”

He stays on the phone with her for twenty minutes until a few black vans show up and begin a perimeter sweep. She sees Derek take point at the front as several armed men have other points of entry. Within minutes that feel like an eternity the two neighbors are escorted out in handcuffs into awaiting separate vehicles and she sees the camera shot where Derek is waiting for her to open the panic room door.

“You okay?” he asks as his eyes roam her over.

“I’m fine. Just a cut that isn’t bleeding anymore.”

“Let’s take a look at it.”

“I…”

“Ms. Smoak, please let me do my job.”

“Okay. Okay.” she sits there as he goes through protocol in taking care of his assigned task.

She hates to think that this is her life now. She feels like she has two options one to keep hidden away and act like the damsel in some overrated storybook or take charge and plan a future where she’s still in a guilted cage but free to be Felicity Smoak and pick up the pieces with William and start making a life for them.

Picking up the phone given to her she makes her decision final.

“Hi, I’m Felicity Smoak, I was told…” she listens to the other end before a small pause and soon after she speaks again. “Hi. Mr. Fox, I’ve decided to take you and Bruce on that offer.”

#olicity #olicity hiatus fic-a-thon #ohfat 2018 #olicity hiatus week 3

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tackyflamedecals-blog · 6 years

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Love ((SENDING IN ALL THE LOVE FLUFFS))

Just One Dance || IDW Ultra Magnus/RodimusFor @big-ultra-mags

((IT’S DONE!! *throws this at you all*

A drabble: usually around 100 words.Me, supposed to be writing one: writes a nearly 1,800 word self-indulgent OTP dance because I apparently have no self control. qwq

I’m still accepting these, just they probably won’t all be as long as this because…well, again, OTP bias. X’3

Full thing under the cut, I hope it was worth the wait. I definitely had a blast writing it. ;w;))

Rodimuswatched his crew dance. It was nice for everything to be so calm for once, awhole event that hadn’t gone completely wrong – probably a new Lost Light record.He didn’t remember what all the dancing was for, that detail had gotten a littlefuzzy after a few cubes of highgrade, but whatever it was it was worth itbecause this was pretty fun.

Orit would be if he had a single person to dance with. He’d debated asking Driftbut as he’d walked over to his best friend was just getting Ratchet to agree todance with him. He looked so delighted to have won the old medic over andRodimus couldn’t spoil that, so he’d backed off before either bot could noticehim. He hadn’t been able to come up with any other possible dancing buddiesbefore everyone had either paired off or grouped up, so he contented himselfwith watching. Watching and drinking.

Wellthat wasn’t entirely true. He had come up with one other bot he wanted to dancewith but he wasn’t going to bother wasting his time asking. His optics flickered over to thedoorway where the imposing figure of Ultra Magnus was watching everyone with astern ‘party responsibly’ kind of look. Anytime there was an event, whetherthere was highgrade involved or not, you could always find Magnus keepingcareful, sober watch over proceedings.

Itwas a behaviour he used to find both incredibly annoying and boring. Because itwas. But damn if it wasn’t adorable too. For someone so outwardly stoic hecared deeply about everyone, to the point of missing out on the fun himself tomake sure no one got hurt. It was an incredibly attractive trait and it wasn’tthe only one Rodimus had started noticing about him lately.

Ugh,he was drunk. And bored. And tired. Really, really tired.

Tiredof pretending that he didn’t have feelings.

Whatwas so wrong with taking a chance anyway? His processor offered him as hisframe started moving without his conscious thought towards the doorway Magnuswas standing in. What was the worst Magnus could do; tell him no, give him alook that said ‘not right now Rodimus’or ‘I don’t have time for whatever gameyou’re playing right now Rodimus’? At least he could leave knowing hetried.

“Captain,”Magnus greeted him with a polite nod, his posture relaxing ever so slightly,“Are you enjoying yourself?”

“It’sjust Rodimus, remember, you don’t have to call me Captain,” Magnus’ face saidhe begged to differ but Rodimus refused to be distracted. He tapped the largermech’s arm, giving him his best smile, “Dance with me?”

Theeffect was instantaneous. His posture straightened again, but the frown thatfollowed wasn’t quite as stern as he’d expected. Huh. “Rodimus, it is notappropriate-” the enforcer stopped mid-sentence as Rodimus waved a servo nonchalantly.

“Sureit is. Look, on the bridge while we’re on duty sure it’s not appropriate, butthis is a party. Here I’m just Rodimus and you’re just Ultra Magnus – myfriend, and I wanna dance with you,” he turned to look out at the crowd ofdancing bots, missing the intense look he was getting from his companion. “Andlook everyone’s too drunk or having too much fun to notice what we’re doinganyways.” Turning back, he gave him a playful wink, “One dance and I promiseI’ll add a note to your next report.” Rodimus saw indecision register brieflyon Magnus’ face and Rodimus knew he had him, “I’ll note it with thanks~” Rodimus’ smile only broadened as Magnus glancedquickly around the room before letting out an accepting sigh.

“Verywell, one dance,” the blue and white mech acquiesced, and Rodimus couldn’t hidehis delight as he held out his servo for him to take. His touch was gentleas their servos clasped one another, ever careful not to hurt him. The caredisplayed in that one simple gesture made his spoiler flutter as they walkedtowards the dance floor.

Butwhen he looked up though there was a deep blush spreading across the enforcersface and for once he couldn’t read the emotion there. Which, to Rodimus’ (admittedly intoxicated) mind,could only mean the larger mech was experiencing a whole new world ofuncomfortable and just didn’t know how to express it. It certainly wouldn’t bethe first time.

I should’ve known. This was too much, it was too public, and the thought he wasactually upsetting the other mech just for the sake of a dance made his sparktwist.

Hestopped where they were, a few meters shy of the actual dance floor. Magnusturned around to look at him, confused. “Mags if…if this is making you toouncomfortable we don’t have to,” he couldn’t stop his spoiler drooping, but hecouldn’t upset him, not like this, “I’ll still note your report, with thanksand all.” It was a lifeline, an easy way for him to back out and when Magnus’optics flashed with surprised he felt all but certain he’d take it.

But Magnus surprised him by shaking his helm, “No, I’m fine,” Magnus’ face wasunreadable again, but this time it felt lighter than before, “Thank you though,for your concern.”

“Yousure?” hope flared inside him, following the larger mech the last few feet tothe edge of the dancefloor, “Promise you’re not just doing this for thereports?”

“Ipromise,” the smallest of smiles graced Magnus’ face, a smile that was rapidlymoving to the top of Rodimus’ favourites. Even more so when he felt Magnus’other servo rest on his back, just beneath his spoiler. He couldn’t reach ashigh as the enforcer’s shoulder, so simply let his servo rest as high as hecould comfortably reach on his arm, their other servos remaining joined.

Hewas pleasantly surprised that Magnus knew what position to be in, but when themusic started up again and the larger mech started leading them without prompthe had to work to keep his surprise contained just to a rise of his spoiler.

“Youcan dance,” the purple mech couldn’t stop himself from pointing out, thoroughlyintrigued, “Where did you learn to dance?”

“I…mayhave done a little research and practice beforehand,” Magnus admitted quietly,averting his optics as he swung them both around carefully, obviously stillwatching out for the other bots around them.

“Soyou did want to dance at some point tonight then?” he tilted his helm slightlyto the side, following Magnus’ lead without really concentrating on what theywere doing. He trusted Magnus to keep them from accidentally bumping intoanything. He trusted Magnus more than anyone if he was honest.

“Iwanted to be prepared for the eventuality,” which wasn’t really an answer butthat look was in the other’s optics again so he didn’t press it. After a momentof silence Magnus spoke again, “I thought you’d want to dance with Drift?”There was an edge to that question that Rodimus’ highgrade addled processorcouldn’t quite unpack.

“’CourseI did,” he answered honestly, “But I wanted to dance with you too, I justdidn’t think you’d actually say yes.” And there was another look he didn’tunderstand. How much highgrade had he had again? “Hence the bribery.”

Therewas another long pause between them, before in possibly the quietest and mosttimid voice he’d ever heard come out of him, Magnus responded, “I should confess, I also…wantedto dance with you…I mean I hoped…”

Rodimusfelt the other’s servo’s leave his frame before he could fully comprehend thosewords, the larger mech twirling him around, then he felt a large, strong servoon his back, pulling him close to a large, and very welcoming frame. He was certain by now hisface was as red as his armour used to be, but he didn’t pull away. He couldn’t,not with his spark practically trying to escape his chassis it was pounding sohard. Their optics met and he swore he could feel that servo moving ever soslightly lower, though it was very hard to concentrate on it.

“Rodimus…”their faceplate’s were barely inches away now, he could lean up just a little,close the gap between them and…

Andjust like that, far too soon, the song was over.

Itwas like a spell had broken between them. Magnus’ servo moved away from hiswaist, and he rather reluctantly took a step back.

“Thank you for the dance. You’re a really good dancer,” Rodimus said quickly,trying to break the sudden awkward tension between them.

“You’rewelcome- I mean thank you, thank you too, that was…fun,” Magnus replied just asquickly, clearly relieved that Rodimus had spoken first.

Hegrinned, spoiler flapping, “Wow pulling out the f-word Mags, I’m flattered.”

Magnusmade a noise that could’ve almost been amusement, or something close to it atleast, “I believe the appropriate response is, ‘you should be’.”

“So you have been listening! And here I thought all my relaxed language lessonswere going to waste,” Magnus gave him a look, one he was almost sure meant ‘of course I was paying attention, I’m alwayspaying attention’ but there was something else in there too, somethingunsaid. They lapsed back into silence again but now it was a companionablesilence at least. One that this time the larger mech broke.

“Ishould return to the door,” and was it just the highgrade or did he look thetiniest bit disappointed?

“Rightand I…actually I should probably go and recharge,” that sounded like the sensiblething to do. Right now he needed somewhere quiet to think…well all of that through. Or at least, heshould recharge and think it all through in the morning when he was sober. Thatwas probably a better plan.

“You’re not staying for the rest of the dance?” he should’ve expected to hearthe surprise that coloured the larger mech’s voice. Usually he was one of the lastbots to leave little get togethers like this, in fact this would probably bethe first party he’d ever left before his highgrade cubes hit double digits.

Rodimusshrugged casually, “Nah, I’m good. C’mon I’ll walk with you to the door.” Hegave his companion two affectionate pats on the arm, turning to head towardsthe door, “When do you plan to disappear?”

“Whenthe most likely troublemakers make themselves scarce,” Magnus was walking athis side in an instant, “And only Whirl is still here.”

“Soyou’ve still got a way to go yet then,” Whirl usually didn’t leave much beforeRodimus would so there were still a few more hours of drinking to go, “I’d saycomm. me if you need any help but I’m not sure what kind of help I’d be.”

“Thethought is appreciated none the less,” Magnus stopped next to the doorway. Hehesitated before adding, “Goodnight, Rodimus.”

“G’nightMags,” with a final smile he took his opportunity to escape, pushing the doorsopen and hurrying away down the hallway. As he moved towards his room, he couldn’thelp but bring the image of Magnus’ face that close back up in his processor.The soft way he’d said his name, the intense look in his optics that made hisspark do spin…

Hewas in deep. Way too deep.

#transformers #rodimus #ultra magnus #magnus #rodimags #mtmte #lost light #idw #ask #bigultramags #wavey did a writing

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