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kimageddon · 3 years ago

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Star Wars Fics

I was challenged by @ashotofspotchka . So I did it.

The Prompt

Made this a Tech x Reader fic. I got inspired. And became a bit longer that intended.

I heard y'like Tech?? @eyecandyeoz @fallenrepublick (tag a fan!)

The Wedding

Well this was a right mess to be in. How had you even gotten into this situation? Oh of course… Cid. As much as you admired her, she was a tricky one. If not for her you would have never been invited to her salon, nor would you have met the most frustrating band of men you’d encountered. And their adorable little sister of course.

Had you not taken that job with them a few months ago, you would not have gotten to know them so well. Not been put in so many ridiculous situations and nearly losing your head. You wouldn’t have that new scar across your thigh… and you wouldn’t have grown to like them so much.

Damn it. Your mentor always told you not to get too attached to people, one never knew when they would find each other on opposite sides of the field so to speak. Casual acquaintances were one thing. Friendship was not a good idea. Anything more was downright dangerous. You told yourself it was alright to have a little affection for them. That it was alright to laugh and make jokes, to share a meal with them, to make them smile. That was alright… wasn’t it?

You let out a sigh wishing the ceremony would soon be over. Not that it wasn’t lovely. Of course it was. The venue was beautifully decorated, from the flowers to the guests, everything was stunning. A perfect picture of romance and love and devotion.

You usually detested weddings. There was one incident when you were young and… well it spoiled the idea of them to you. Though this was… actually rather nice. The group, you included, were tasked with providing security for the wedding as a favour to one of Cid’s associates. It was one of the more ridiculous missions… though even you had to admit, you cleaned up alright in a silken dress and heels. It had been a while since you’d had to go undercover and this was… well it was rather fun.

The downside of course had been seeing the boys in their suits. It wasn’t good for your heart. If they looked a picture of badass intimidation in full armour, then the five of them in suits were just perfect.

Hunter even had his hair swept back, though it took you a second to recognise him without the bandana. Wrecker had been a little grumbly about feeling unprotected but was very pleased when you told him he was very handsome. Crosshair had rolled his eyes at first, but gotten very offended when you snatched his toothpick from his lips. Echo had a moment when he was finally dressed. You’d been tying his bowtie when he’d let out a little huff and gave a small smile, saying he “felt human again.” Your heart broke at these words because even with his brothers he still felt… lesser. You had been quick to assure him that he was more human than anyone you knew and that the prosthetics meant nothing on that. Seeing him puff up with pride again was worth nearly getting shot last week.

Even Omega had a pretty dress on and flats tied to her ankles with ribbons. You and she had picked a dress to match Hunter’s suit specifically, she looked up to her big brother so very much, you often thought he was more like a father really, but kept these thoughts to yourself for now.

The last one to join you was the one that affected you the most of course. Tech stepped out onto the landing platform looking like a million credits and like he should have a hot woman on each arm. Like he could make any woman swoon with just a wink.

Hot damn.

Of course he would not do such a thing, and was just looking around, observing the surroundings for possible points of attack, vulnerability and in general taking in the surroundings. As you were also meant be doing. Internally you swore and after drinking in his obliviously gorgeous self, you’d returned to praising the way Omega had pinned her hair without needing your help.

Tech had of course been one of the members of the self-proclaimed ‘Bad Batch’ that you had found the most interesting. He always knew at least five facts about the planet or target or mission that the others didn’t. Always reading, always observing. His eyes behind his goggles were never still. One could think him cold if they didn’t look close enough. But he had a deep passion for knowledge, for technology… its no wonder he had chosen such a name. Practical. To the point. You liked that about him. You like quite a bit about him as you recently discovered. The way he could fix anything. The way his eyes lit up when he talked about learning new things. The way he was so damn efficient at his job, he knew the Havoc Marauder inside and out. The little smile when the two of you shared an inside joke. Or the way he rolled his eyes whenever one of his brothers exasperated him. The way he was always right there to help Omega over large stones or down the stairs of the ship. He was so thoughtful like that, despite not really talking about it.

Actually no. No, you didn't like that. It was just positive observations. That’s all. He was a colleague… maybe a friend. Maybe. There was nothing more to it, you told yourself. There wasn’t anything meant in the little brushes of your fingers when you two passed items between each other. Or passed in the hold of the ship. Or when you were squashed together when hiding from Imps. He didn’t think like that. Right?

Currently, you were standing on one side of the large room, waiting for the bride to arrive. On one side were you, Hunter and Crosshair, standing alongside the pews. On the other, was Omega, Echo, Wrecker and Tech. You wished Tech was on your side of the room, then he wouldn’t be in your vision at least. Not that it meant anything! You were allowed to admire the handsome technician of course, but that's all it was. He certainly wasn’t looking back at you every minute or so either. You were probably imagining it. You had to keep your eyes out for any breaches in security. Any guests acting strange. Certainly not staring at the drop-dead gorgeous clone in glasses across from you.

“Feeling alright, Feisty?” Hunter asked in a low whisper. You smirked at the nickname, apparently you had made an impression on them in the first mission when the client had gotten too mouthy. “Your heart rate is higher than usual.” He added, and you could hear definite amusement in his tone.

You pursed your lips together, trying not to smile from embarrassment. “I’m fine Hunter.” You replied out of the corner of your mouth. Another sweep of the venue with your eyes-- oh kriff Tech was looking your way. Your eyes met for just a second before you tore them away. You heard Hunter chuckle.

“You sure?” He muttered, folding his arms,

“Shut up, Hunter.” You retorted with a soft huff. He chuckled again and you felt your face grow hot. By the nine moons of Endor you wanted to run. It was then the music began and you steeled yourself. The ceremony was beginning.

It was lovely, really. Very sweet, lovely and romantic. The Togruta and his Twi’lek bride seemed very in love if the look on the groom's face was to be believed. He practically lit up like a beacon on seeing her. You had the brief thought... would anyone do that for you? Before immediately pushing it away. Those sorts of thoughts were dangerous. You were sure that it was going to be boring… but you couldn’t help but get a little distracted when they began to say their vows.

“...my darling. There is so much I want to say to you. So much I have felt and left unsaid, I am sure you know just how I feel just by the way I look at you.”

Your eyes instinctively flicked to the otherside of the room. You glimpsed his eyes on you and was immediately caught in the depths of his soft brown eyes. The gentle and kind look you had seen many times, but thought nothing of. He was just kind, that’s who he was. In this moment though-- you were sure there was… a little more to it.

“...It was not easy to let myself open up… to bring myself to acknowledge my feelings but in one moment I knew they were endless and unrelenting. I love you from the depth of my soul and I never want to be apart from you…”

Oh hells… these vows were so saccharine sweet that normally you would be gagging… but these ones hit a little too close to home. You couldn’t stop your eyes from being tugged toward the suited clone trooper opposite you, no matter how you forced them away, to scan the room for danger, they were always drawn back to him. Always him.

“...When I met you you were just so wild. Such a firecracker…!”

There was a laugh across the room and you almost jumped, reminding yourself you were in a crowd. Though none of them paid attention to you. Only one.

“...It was like seeing the sun for the first time, with you in my world colours were brighter, food was sweeter, I found myself longing for times when we could be together, even in the small moments…”

You recalled the times Tech and yourself had been together, doing maintenance, repairs, listening to the music through the entertainment channels. The little laughs, the simple things.

“...not everything was easy, and there has been so much danger…”

You remembered your last serious injury, the piece of twisted metal sticking out of your leg while you hauled ass back to the ship, firing behind you to cover the boys. The way Tech’s eyes had become as big as moons when you finally collapsed, and they saw how bad the injury was.

“... but I always trusted you to get me through anything. I love you, my darling. With all my heart, and soul and with every beat of my heart and breath in my body. I will be yours even after all the stars in the galaxy burn out.”

You had been unable to tear your gaze from Tech’s for the last minute or so and you could feel your face burn. It was only when the vows were done and the bride and groom kissed, their hands wrapped together in a red ribbon and the other guests clapped in support that you snapped out of your little reverie. You joined, half-heartedly in the applause but you felt… strange. You really wanted this mission to be over. Or a drink. Yeah, a drink would be good.

#tbb fanfiction #tbb #tbb tech #tech #clone tech #the bad batch #fanfic prompt #tag a tech simp #tech x reader #tech x you #tech fluff

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lifewithdavefarts · 3 years ago

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DaveFarts - Episode 10 “The Elevator” [Episode List] After visiting a friend’s house, Tim and the gassy-as-usual Dave take a really slow elevator together.

The Elevator

I took a quick sip of beer as our friend Adam left the living room to get another can in his fridge. What was left was a weirdly awkward silence and Dave, with his own beer, glaring at me.

“Dude,” he whispered. “It’s been a hour. I thought you were gonna tell him.”

I chose Adam as the first non-Dave bud to come out to, but it ended up being surprisingly hard to do. It’s not like Dave was forcing me or anything, or that Adam was a bad person; on the contrary, Dave was simply there with me as my emotional support in case things go south (but we both know they won’t) and Adam was, well, just Adam. Dave’s rightful reaction to me not coming out as planned didn’t bother me and as I said he wasn’t there to intimidate a confession out of me.

“Look, I don’t feel ready, okay?”

“You’ve been talking about the weather for 20 minutes.” he hissed. “What’s next? Geology?”

I chuckled. “Actually, this reminds me that they found this weird rock in South Amer-“

“I can’t believe this.”

“What’s not to believe? You take a big shovel and-“

“And I’m gonna dig my own grave if you start talking about rocks.”

I chuckled again. I know he wasn’t really mad.

Annoyed? Maybe. But mad? Nah, that’s a stretch.

He had all the rights to be annoyed though, but in the end it was my decision to make and he knew this.

We kept whispering as we heard Adam rummaging the fridge like some kind of raccoon longing for a cold drink.

“Look.” I said. “it’s late now anyway. Let’s just leave. Sorry I wasted your time.”

“Fine.” he replied. “Let’s finish our beers first at least.”

“That goes without saying.” and I took a long sip.

Truth is that I hadn’t any real reason to hide my homosexuality from Adam or any other of my buds actually. First, we’re in our 20s, we’re all mature and open-minded here. And in the end, excluding the whole fart-thing going on with Dave, they were all like him, chill guys. Adam, despite always sounding like someone who wants to have none of your shit, or anyone’s shit really, more than once proved that it’s just a facade and not-so-deep down he’s always ready to listen and back you up whenever you needed it. He did just listen to me talking about the weather for 20 minutes, so either he’s fascinated by the subject or knows I’m trying to tell him something else and is just patiently waiting.

The thought of wasting both of my buds’ time in a way or another kind of bothered me to be honest, so I was more than okay with wrapping things up and just leave, which me and Dave did mere minutes later.

“See you bro.” my bud said to Adam, standing by the door, as we went outside in the hallway, not far from the stairs and the elevator “Tim wants to talk about rocks so I’m taking him out of here before he kills you with boredom.”

“The one they dug up in Colombia?” Adam asked, much to our surprise.

“Yeah.” I answered. “They know it’s andesite but it has some interesting carvings on the surface and-“

A startled “What the fuck.” from Dave echoed in the hallway and the entire apartment building.

“What the fuck indeed.” Adam uttered, rather excitedly, completely missing the point. “This could change the archeo-history of the entire region.”

“I heard enough.” Dave said as he walked towards the elevator.

Both me and the other rock-enthusiast laughed at his reaction.

“By the way, I’m going to join you for a bit as I gotta walk the dog.” Adam remembered, reaching for a leash behind him.

“We’ll see you outside then.” Dave replied and then turned to me. “Tim, elevator, now.” he ordered.

“You sure, guys? You remember that thing is slow as shit, right?”

“We’ll be fine.” my bud said, patting my back. “I guess I’ll make Tim last longer then.” he joked.

“That only happens when you call me ‘daddy’” I joked back, as we walked towards the elevator, leaving our common friend behind.

“Rrrright.” Adam said. “I’ll get the dog while you two solve your sexual tension. See you outside.”

I pressed the button to summon the lift, Dave’s arm still around my shoulder as if he had something to show me. Truth to be told, I somehow knew where this was going.

As the panels of the door opened, we stepped into the elevator cab. I pressed the “G” on the control panel. I heard a mechanical noise and the elevator started its long, slow descent (we were at the 10th floor), after the doors closed behind us of course.

It was a cold evening and the cab wasn’t any warmer. I turned to Dave, who was wearing a dark blue hoodie and a pair of grey jeans. He looked at me with a smirk, hands in his jeans pockets; he raised his eyebrows and, without warning, a loud thunder echoed in that enclosed moving space.

The roaring fart had a slow start, with some interruptions, actually a sign for how big it was, but Dave, being an expert, quickly tamed the gassy beast and properly “tuned” the sound of the blast after a couple of seconds, keeping a consistent pitch, while also making it sound loud and deep. It felt like he was ripping one of those huge “when the girl finally leaves” farts, only, well, Dave-sized, which is always a sight to behold… hear? In this case there was no girl so he probably simply held all of his farts in to not ruin “the moment”, in case I wanted to come out back at Adam’s place (with beer acting as a bonus fuel).

A silly smile was drawn on my bro’s face as the fart kept going strong and proud, sometimes reaching some incredibly loud moments. He chuckled a bit and even winked at me when the blast made some particularly “meaty” noises, if that makes any sense. The fart was impressive on his own but Dave “interacting” with me while still masterfully passing gas was incredible as well (and, of course, hot).

The number 6 on the control panel lightened up and only in that moment I realized two things: the first being that the elevator was indeed slow as fuck; the second is that around 40 seconds passed and neither Dave nor his fart “flinched”. I was widely aroused by that and I felt the air around us getting more and more “polluted”, but not in an unbearable way actually. The blast kept echoing inside the elevator and I’m pretty sure that it could have been easily heard, albeit a bit muffled, by anyone taking the stairs.

Dave farted in my face many times, but no fart reached the length and power of this one, which is saying a lot. My bud’s butt-burps normally last around 6-12 seconds and don’t get me wrong they’re amazing, but man, maybe this one rip would have been too much to endure even for me: it simply wouldn’t stop. It’s like there was a loud engine in the elevator which couldn’t be turned off as I couldn’t hear anything else.

I was instead the opposite of turned off and teasing bastard Dave Maning knew this and, as usual, had no issue with it. At this point it was a race between Dave’s longest fart and the world’s slowest elevator.

We were now at the 3rd floor and my bud probably wanted to do a “big finale”; he was visibly pushing the blast out now, as if he wanted it to last as long as possible, a smirk still drawn on his face. He closed his eyes and the sound made it look like another fart was ripped over the sound of the previous fart, as if two audio channels in his ass somehow overlapped. The sound was of course louder than ever; the smell now, and only now, getting a bit hard to get used to. But to be honest, Dave’s skills as a sound designer alone were impressive enough.

A big part of me, mainly the one between my legs, wanted to get on my knees and plant my face in his denim ass before the fart faded out, but I knew that would have been too much even for such a chill guy like him. I’m sure he wouldn’t hate me or anything at this point but we both know there are some untold boundaries and honestly it’s better this way. I know how lucky I am to have someone like him around (farts or not).

My farting bro probably read my mind as he slowly turned around and got closer, again without affecting the fart’s quality and, being a bit taller then me, basically farted on the upper part of my hip. It almost made my entire body shake due to its power and it felt good. Now I really wanted to bend down as if I was tying my shoes but what stopped me this time was also the thought of… not surviving. I was familiar with Dave’s farts but this was absurdly powerful even for him.

And finally, as Dave resumed his previous position, again looking at me, the fart stopped, followed by my friend letting out a relieved whistle, and then an immature cackle.

Not even 2 seconds after that the elevator reached its destination, stopping as well. I jokingly clapped my hand and shook my head in disbelief. “Bravo!” I said, as if I just watched some fancy stage play.

Dave simply smiled and turned his back at me to face the exit, as we both waited for the just-as-slow panel doors to open.

“At least not all the time here was wasted.” he laughed.

“Bro, we had a beer together. That’s never a waste of time for me.” I replied.

“Wow. Rocks, gay and cringe. You got it all, Tim!” he replied.

We both laughed at me being needlessly cheesy and finally stepped out of that gas chamber. Someone stepped in the cab as we left it and the doors closed, leaving us in the hallway at the ground floor. We heard muffled coughing noises almost immediately and we laughed again, as we knew the disgusting reason. Poor, innocent soul.

“Ok but bro” Dave then said, looking a bit more serious. “You gotta do it someday. Trust me you can trust all of us.”

“I know man.” I replied, as we walked towards the exit “Next time I meet Adam, doesn’t matter where and when, I’m gonna tell him that I’m gay.”

My voice echoed in the building and through the stairs, but I didn’t care.

“You’re… gay?”

Okay, I cared.

We both turned around, puzzled.

It was Adam, right behind us (with this dog on leash), descending one last set of stairs before ending up in front of us. Somehow he’s been slower than the elevator, which both me and Dave found hilarious but I also had other emotions going on that moment.

Dave patted my shoulder encouragingly and stepped back: it was my time to shine.

“Yep.” I simply said. “I wanted to tell you hours ago but I didn’t have the guts to do it.”

Adam just stared at me with a confused expression.

I didn’t feel as nervous as I anticipated. “Yes, Dave knows it��” I quickly added, noticing him staring at my other straight bud. “And I asked him to not tell anyone.”

A moment of silence followed and those always feel like they last hours.

“I mean you two clearly have been dating each other for years” Adam joked. “So it’s no surprise, really.”

“WHAT WE HAVE IS SPECIAL!” Dave shouted, jokingly faking a desperate reaction.

I simply laughed and before I could process how well everything was going I felt Adam doing something very unusual for him: he hugged me.

“I’m glad you told me, man.” he simply said. “You know you can count on us.”

I know times have changed and all but this felt like a victory. Every time I’m gonna come out to a friend of mine it’s one step closer to the peak of a mountain and once at the top I will finally-

“Fuck, I forgot my phone.” Adam said, patting his pockets. “I’ll just take the elevato-“

“NOOO!” both me and Dave screamed, knowing that it was still a deadly gas chamber.

Adam simply replied with an annoyed expression and went for the stairs, the dog just behind him.

“Oh hey by the way.” I asked. “What took you so long? You said the elevator was slow but somehow we made it here before you.”

“Don’t underestimate me.” he replied. “It’s just that I heard some weird noises echoing through the stairs and me and another guy tried to understand what it was.”

Dave tried to not to burst into laughter, while I simply smiled like an idiot. Adam and his dog then went up the stairs and left us in silence, not until my gassy bro decided to break it the way he usually does.

A loud fart erupted and echoed through the building, only lasting around 4 seconds this time.

“There it is again!” we heard Adam say, a couple floors above us.

Me and Dave shared an amused look and went outside trying to not laugh like immature idiots. I felt the cold weather all over me, which was relieving considering the gas trap I’ve been trapped into only minutes earlier.

Despite a slow, yet really entertaining elevator ride, and my awkwardness, no time went wasted today.

“I’m proud of you, bro.” Dave said, this time serious, but still smiling.

“Wow.” I replied. “Straight and cringe. You got it all, Dave.” and winked at him.

“Don’t get too cocky now, rock nerd.”

I was rock-hard, to be more precise that’s for sure, but that was a detail I’d take care of later, perhaps thinking back of that absurd elevator ride. Whenever I’m with Dave, I’ll make sure we’re never taking the stairs again.

End of Episode 10

#fart story #eproctophilia #fartkink #davefarts2 #gayfart #malefarts

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citydreamgrls · 4 years ago

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a simple favour - part two

fred weasley x fem!reader

summary: it was all in her best interests, fred never meant to catch feelings for her. it had started as a simple favour.

words: 4,785

warnings: swearing , tw: stalking / stalker , smut in later parts (18+)

find part three here

“You did WHAT!” Ron was the first to respond to Fred’s confession. The rest weren’t far behind. Harry burst into a fit of nervous giggles, unable to truly contemplate it all George just switched up his facial expressions from confused to shocked to horrified over and over again. Hermione’s reaction was similar to Ron’s, as she threw herself into a flurry of telling Fred how mental he was, and asking him questions without waiting for answers.

All the while I sat in disbelief, unsure if I’d heard him correctly. I held my head upright, just a blank expression stuck on my face as I watched the wall, hoping that something would come to mind.

“YOU’RE FUCKING MENTAL FRED!’

“HAS SHE NOT GONE THROUGH ENOUGH?”

“GOD SHE’S ONE OF MY BEST FRIENDS, THIS IS DISGUSTING.”

“Poor girl, you should be ashamed Fred.”

“And to think I ever looked up to you.”Ron huffed, setting Hermione off again.

“IS THIS YOUR IDEA OF A SICK JOKE?” She screeched, stopping everyone in their spiralling tracks, even making me look over to see what the twin would say.

“It- it just slipped out okay, but wait-” He stopped his brother from ripping his head off, “I think it might have done something.”

“Does he believe you?” I asked into the following silence, making him look at me with more of an apology than he had ever spoken aloud. “I can’t say for sure.. But he was definitely bothered by it.”

“And what if this is all he needs to get back at her, just a reason to hurt y/n?” Hermione asked.

Fred’s face dropped and he sighed with genuine regret, if what he was saying was true then it could go either way. Mclaggen could either get bored of seeing me with someone else and move on, or he could come after fuelled with jealousy.

“I’m sorry,” He finally spoke, looking over to me and keeping his eyes on mine as he carried on,“I know it isn’t ideal, but it could at least mean he isn’t as interested.”

“There isn’t much else we can do, is there?” My best friend replied, tying her hair up and sitting down in defeat.

“I suppose we better make him believe then.” I nodded, the words feeling heavy and wrong as they came from my throat. Nothing felt right about this, I felt bad for Fred having to lie for me and act as if he loved me just because some guy was being a creep.

Fred smiled weakly, he must have sensed my nerves. Or maybe I just wasn’t as good at hiding what I felt as I’d always presumed I was. Either way, he knew something about where my head was at. He was also right. This situation wasn’t ideal, but equally it was the only idea any of us had come up with that seemed to actually work in some way. Fred wasn’t malicious, he would only ever do this to help.

Now we just needed to pull it off properly.

None of us talked over it for long, no one really wanted to go into much detail of how soppy Fred and I needed to act around one another. No one less than Ron, who had a permanent scowl aimed at his brother as we discussed the plan. It all came down to what people outside of mine and Hermione’s room thought. It wasn’t just Cormac who we would be lying to, but everyone else in the school. If just one person caught wind that this was a set up, then it would be a wasted effort and I’d be stuck with a stalker for the rest of my time at Hogwarts.

“What about Ginny?” Harry asked, “Do we tell her?”

“She needs to believe it like everyone else,” Fred said. “If she thinks we’re together, then she’ll tell mum and dad straight away. Saves them hearing from anyone else, that would be more suspicious.”

“We can still tell her the truth,” Ron was still angry, finding every reason to disagree with people. “Even if she knows she can tell mum and dad.”

“She’s still young Ron, we can’t trust that she won’t let slip.” He argued back.

“She’s family you git, it isn’t fair to lie to her too!”

“Fred’s right.” Hermione put a hand on Ron’s, all of us nodding in agreement. “All of this stays between us, that’s all. We can trust one another, and that’s it. No one else.”

Ron reluctantly gave in, not quite agreeing, but nevertheless refraining from arguing the point any further. It all seemed quite futile to him, and something deep down made him wonder what his brother was up to. George coaxed everyone out, leaving Hermione and I to talk things over once again.

“One of us can watch the tower from the common room, that way he can’t get to you.” He explained once the boys were going down the stairs. I thanked him as he smiled and left, always the one to keep smiling despite the circumstances.

My best friend hugged me once again, refusing to let go as we tried to chat about anything other than Fred, which lasted about 2 minutes.

“What was he thinking?” She scoffed and I shrugged.

“It’s our only chance Mione,”

“And if it doesn’t work?”

“Then I’ll kill him.” My face was blank, probably pale and sickly. I felt sickly so it seemed right that I look the part.

“Who? Fred or Mclaggen?”

“Both,” I laughed, the tiniest glimmer of happiness stabbing its way through the dark. My friend’s wrapped round me more, unwilling to let go until she absolutely had to, her hands squeezed my sides comfortably. “Thank you, for stopping Mclaggen last night… and for looking after me so much.”

“I know you would do the same,” She smiled, stroking my hair with one hand.

“Were you scared too?” I asked, breathing deeply as I tried to repress that feeling I’d had seeing him standing in the middle of the room only a few steps away from my bed.

“A little bit,”

“You’re braver than me… what do you think he would hav-”

“Don’t think about it y/n, it’s over. Just focus on you and Fred.”

I sat up, her arms slipping away as I did so. She mimicked me, crossing her legs as I did mine and watched my mind whir as I thought about Fred over and over.

“There must have been other things he could’ve said.” I sighed, Hermione nodding.

“Probably..”

“Hell, he could’ve beaten him to the ground.” “So why didn’t he?” The girl asked, no answer coming to my mind but plenty inside hers. “I just think there’s a reason he lied to Mclaggen.”

“He said it slipped out,”

“Oh I believe that, but it’s what that means that’s confusing me.” She admitted, I frowned at her, not quite following.

“What do you mean?”

“Well,” She sat up onto her knees, looking me right in the eyes to make sure I understood what she was thinking. “For Fred, the guy who couldn't care less about girls, to suddenly pretend he has a girlfriend seems strange. But when he said it just slipped out to Cormac, I think he was thinking of you more than himself.”

She was right about Fred not being bothered with girls, he’d seen George mess around with enough of them that the aspect of a relationship probably seemed useless to him.

“Yeah I understand that, he was confronting him about me.”

“But… he could’ve said anything else. Why did Fred, think about you and his head immediately go to girlfriend?” She leant back now, satisfied with her theory. I hummed.

“Maybe you’re over-analysing it a bit?” Hermione did tend to after all.

“I have a gut feeling about this one.”

Harry came to check on me halfway through the day, telling us that Ron had been sulking all day despite Fred's attempts to apologise. Hermione went to spend some time in the library as I continued to hide away in our dorm, refusing to come out until dinner. Tomorrow would be a different day, I’d have classes all over again but luckily none with Mclaggen because he was in the year above. However, it meant I’d be matched with people asking questions, whether they knew about the night’s events or not. I now had a fake relationship to speak for, not to mention I needed to be somewhat happy about it too in order for things to go smoothly.

“Hi.” Fred said quietly, making Harry look up from his magazine. He got the idea and left us to it, shutting the door behind him.

“I’ll see you at dinner y/n.” He smiled sweetly, each step echoing down the stairs. The twin shuffled over to sit on Hermione’s bed to face me.

“How are you feeling?” He asked me, avoiding my empty eyes.

“Fine,” I smiled weakly, doing my best to lie. I didn’t want him to think I was nervous.

“I cannot apologise enough,” He started, hands moving slightly as if he wanted to reach out for mine. But they went back to his lap, fingers tightly crossed over one another, I watched him clench them until his knuckles went white.

I felt like a toddler that needed watching all the time, like he wasn’t sure what to do with me or how to talk.

“Fred don’t, just- it’s fine.” I stood up and walked across the room, desperately trying to find something to busy myself with. I folded some clean clothes, his eyes on my shaky form.

“You’re nervous?” He tried again, his voice scratching the air. I nodded, not daring to turn around and face him. I felt pathetic alone in his presence, vulnerable to his gaze as I clutched a jumper Ron had given me one Christmas between my fingers.

My thoughts were scrambled but they refused to come out to Fred. So we were alone in the silence.

“Everyone’s angry, aren’t they?” I said, at first to himself, but when I peered over he was waiting for me to tell him otherwise.

“I am grateful Fred,I know you were just looking out for me.” He smiled, having been given the reassurance he’d wanted.

“We all are.”

I swallowed once, feeling the spit slide down my throat with a disgusting taste. He meant that as a humbling comment, to show that everyone else cared as much as he did, but why was I disappointed. Had I really been holding out hope that he wanted this?

“Do you need any time before we go?” I nodded, suddenly realising how much of a state I must have been in from the night before.

“I should probably shower,” The words came out meekly, like I was too scared to speak any louder.

“Okay, you can use our bathroom.”

Hermione and I didn’t have a bathroom big enough for a shower in our dorm, subjected to walking halfway across the castle each morning before breakfast. Yet Fred and George had been lucky enough to bag a room with a bigger bathroom, giving them an annoyingly better deal than us.

He checked that the common room was empty before letting me walk through it to get to his dorm. I had never been inside, the twins rarely using their room for anything besides sleeping and washing. They did share it with another boy, Lee Jordan, but as Fred explained he was never really around either.

I showered quickly, enough time to enjoy the privacy of the warm water as I shivered beneath it. Fred was waiting outside, that I could tell from his light footsteps as he paced the room.

“Ready?” The boy stopped walking when I came out, fresh clothes on and my others in a small bundle in my arms. “I’ll put those in with my laundry if you want?” I smiled and dumped it in his little washing basket, taking a deep breath.

He gave me a sudden hug, making me jump slightly. Fred wasn’t one for complex emotions, generally sticking to the safety net that was happiness and anger. I certainly hadn’t seen him hug a single person before without being coerced. Maybe he saw me as such a basket case, that he didn't even know how to react.

“I’m fine Fred.” I laughed awkwardly, patting his back and letting him pull away. For a second I thought he hadn’t heard me, because he didn’t move away, but then he coughed himself back to normal and turned to leave. Me following behind, more confused than ever.

The noise of voices in the great hall boomed louder than ever before, even from down the hall. Fred had started holding my hand the second we’d left the common room, chatting casually to me as we walked through the castle, people giving us looks as we passed them. I too wouldn’t have understood his change in demeanor, he had never been overly affectionate to anyone. Yet here he was, acting as if I was the only person in this whole school. We didn’t stop to discuss anything, or reassure one another, before walking into the hall. I feared that if we had done so, then that slight slither of courage I had would’ve melted away quicker than wax.

Fred’s smile was so natural as I peered up to him, already looking over at George on the Gryffindor table. They were all at our usual spot, watching expectantly as I did my best to ignore the many turned heads and hushed murmurs of surprise. My eyes were fixated on Hermione, who seemed to express a great deal of pride. I hadn’t even noticed that we’d passed Mclaggen’s end of the table, Fred’s body blocking that side so I never even saw him.

When we sat down, I shuddered at the feeling of Fred’s arm around me, which I hope he hadn’t noticed. It was strange, having someone’s hands on me at all times, even worse when it was Fred's. I’d seen the boy fidget before, it was a normal occurrence, but to be the one on the receiving end of his restless fingers playing in my hand was weird.

It was as if he wasn’t necessarily paying attention to me, but yet he was letting me know I was still on his mind. All without a single word spoken. It was nice just to see a different side to the boy, but I needed to remember that all of this wasn’t real. None of these feelings were true to Fred.

Ron ate his food in silence, refraining from looking over at either me or his brother. I ate slowly, mostly speaking to Hermione and Harry and avoiding eye contact with anyone else in the hall, especially him. George and Fred were keeping themselves entertained, which made things much easier for me as I realised that I had no clue how to chat normally with Fred. A fact that became evident as we walked hand in hand through the halls.

Some people congratulated Fred as he took me to potions class, most just whispered about us as if they were invisible. I stayed quiet, the attention mostly on him thank god.

“You didn’t have to bring me,” I smiled as we stopped outside the classroom door “I’m sure people would still believe you.” I whispered.

“Y/n.” He frowned, like I was a naughty child.

“Sorry.” I became very aware of him flipping out. Not even one whole day, and he was already seemingly sick of pretending. The boy looked around, eyeing up a group of Ravenclaw’s hanging out at the other end of the hallway and sighed, turning back to me.

“I didn’t mean it like that, sorry.” He took my hand again, confusing me with a gentle smile.

It became apparent that Fred was a great liar, both to me and everyone else. He said goodbye, and I did my best to produce a fake smile, not that he would be able to tell the difference.

Fred watched her leave, noticing how uncomfortable her smile had been and wanting to punch himself in the face. Why was he acting like such an idiot around her? She was so easy to be happy around, but he repressed it, not enjoying the vulnerability she instilled in him.

He couldn’t deny himself the joy that came with the smiles, or when she held his hand so small inside his own. But he couldn’t let her know that, not ever. Because, when she looked up at him, those eyes so big and innocent, he wanted nothing more than to keep her safe from all the world’s evil. That was what made him weak to her.

She wasn’t ‘his’ in any sense of the word, not a possession like Cormac had described, but god why did he like showing her off to all the boys in her year. The same dirty guys that had confessed the things they wanted to do to her in the dark during a game of truth or dare. Thinking back on it made him mad, physically furious, he wanted to go back and kick them all in the mouths for ever defiling her that way.

It was wrong. Fred felt as though he was benefiting from something y/n had been so traumatised over, like he was her protector from Mclaggen and now she owed him the satisfaction of acting as his girlfriend. He had the nerve to revel in every fucking second of it too.

Fred felt as bad as her stalker. He felt as vulnerable to her as Cormac was, begging for her over and over until it drove him mad. He saw how easily love had turned his father obedient to his mother, and he’d watched Ron stumble over words whenever Hermione looked him straight in the eyes. Fred wasn’t like them, he didn’t need a relationship to belittle him as he’d watched it do to others. He needed to control himself, but it was so hard when he held her and felt what it was like to be under that trance.

She was most likely only being polite with him because he was just that little bit better than someone who broke into her dorm to do god knows what. He wished that she hated him, that she would scream and yell and tell him what a dick he was for making her do this. At least in that case, it would be easier to forget all that he wanted from her. It made him angry that she was so encaptivating, so furious that he felt the need to push her away.

That rage had gotten everyone into this mess to begin with, that anger had made him notice those desperate feelings for y/n that shouldn’t exist. Fred vowed to himself in that moment, he would do everything in his power to rid any attraction to the girl he merely owed a favour to.

Days went by, Fred and I agreeing that kissing one another on the cheek was far enough for people to still believe while not making things awkward between us. The boy, however, was becoming increasingly distant over the next few days. He seemed so calm and collected when we were around others, but the second we were alone he shut down.

His hands would drop mine as if I was the plague, no words exchanged. It hurt, knowing that it truly was all an act, contrary to Hermione’s theory. But nothing else had been hinted at from the start, he himself told all of us how much of a mistake it was. Now I had no choice but to believe him when he said that.

Each time he went silent, or grunted to me instead of talking, I was reminded of how many times he apologised. How quickly he regretted his actions, the second he’d told all of us that morning in my dorm. He never did it for me, I was just naive enough to think differently. Maybe it hurt because he was so convincing, he held me proudly and smiled as if I was the only person in the room. But I too was just someone else being fooled by a very good actor.

The only upside to it all was that Mcglaggen seemed to back off a bit, keeping the creepiness down to just stares across the great hall. It put me at ease again, knowing that I wouldn’t have to worry about walking into a room of flowers and gifts from someone I despised. At this point, he had to be yet another believer of mine and Fred’s fake relationship, thank god.

“I think he hates me,” I said into the darkness one night, unable to sleep and hoping my best friend would be the same.

“Who does?” She grumbled, drowsiness in her voice but not in her body.

“Fred.”

“Why do you say that?”

“You must’ve seen it too, he just ignores everything I say. Like he can’t even stand to be around me.” I huffed.

“Maybe he feels bad for you, he kind of forced it upon you.”

“It doesn't feel like pity… more like disgust.”

Hermione fell silent, searching her mind for a good response.

“Maybe there’s something else on his mind?” She explained.

“Maybe,” I rolled over and looked at the room from my bed, sighing and closing my eyes in another futile attempt to sleep.

I soon realised it was so incredibly stupid of me to ever think that Cormac would have backed off when I snuck off to the black lake one evening to have some time to myself. All I’d done for weeks on end was in the company of others, and it had started to suffocate me slightly. Hermione hadn’t mentioned our conversation about Fred, and his attitudes had only worsened over time, so I just decided to keep it all to myself. I’d snuck off while everyone was busy and walked to the water’s edge, watching the sunset.

It was peaceful, and refreshing to be alone. Finally, I could enjoy my own thoughts without someone interrupting them or the need to fill the silence between Fred and I. He had barely spoken to me all day, only putting on a smile at breakfast before going off to quidditch. Then he disappeared, not even turning up to dinner later on, which seemed to make some people talk as I prodded the food around my plate.

My mood’s were at an all time low, Fred’s constant rejection only pushing them deeper. I’d never needed his approval before, so why was I longing for it now? I hated that I wanted him to come and tell me he was sorry for being off with me. In reality, he probably enjoyed the one day without me around to bother him.

“All alone y/n?” His voice made me want to cry, the once bubbling anger had been conditioned into fear every time I heard him speak. I turned around, ready to leap up and run at any moment. Cormac stood smugly, arms crossed, as if he had finally gotten what he wanted. He had. Now I was all on my own, as he’d asked me already, and he could do whatever he’d wanted to since he’d laid eyes on me.

“What do you want?” I forced the words out shakily, only making him smile more.

He stepped forward and I scrambled to my feet clumsily, stepping back as he came closer.

“I want you to myself y/n, you’re wasting your time with Weasley.” I cringed at his words, if only he knew. I moved around him, trying to leave. But he would never give up that easy, he followed me up the hill with ease.

“Stop it.” I begged.

“We’re meant to be together y/n,” He smiled, reaching for my hand but I just sped up. Making him jog after me. He wasn’t quite chasing me, neither of us moving fast enough for that, but it felt like a wolf closing in on me. “You can’t deny your feelings, can you?”

I stopped, for a split second pondering over the idea that he was talking about Fred. Then he smirked, that ugly god awful, gut-wrenching smile and I remembered that when Cormac spoke it was only ever in his own interest. So I kept walking, finally reaching the bridge to the courtyard.

“I’d love you so much more than he could y/n,” I didn’t dare respond, the tears pricking at my eyes. “He barely pays attention to you, I see it, there’s no spark with you two.” I hated that he was so right.

His words were impossible to ignore, even as we got into the castle with noises everywhere, Cormac’s rang out above them all. “Does Weasley ever touch you?” He asked me, that sick feeling increasing by the second.

Just the stairs to go, then I’d be inside the common room. Someone had to be there, and if not then Hermione was bound to be in the dorm. I prayed I wouldn’t be alone, I had no chance against Mclaggen if I needed to defend myself. I was fearing for the worst, his words unrelenting as he demanded to know intimate details.

“I want to be all over your body,” He whispered as I spoke the password, the painting swinging open. I’d never run inside so quickly, just to whip round to the boy following me closely. He seemed caught off guard, stumbling a little in his step.

“You’re a sick fucker, what will it take for you to understand that no one is ever gonna love you if you threaten them!” I screamed in his face, not giving him a chance to respond.

“I’m not something you can play about with, I’m a fucking person. Do everyone a favour Cormac and leave!”

I hadn’t spotted the three boys peering over at us, getting up in defense the second they saw who had followed me. Ron, Fred and George waited until I was done before coming to my side.

“There he is, your precious boyfriend.” I rolled my eyes at him and turned away again, not in any mood to deal with any of them.

“Leave her alone Mclaggen, she’s had enough of your shit.” Fred pushed the boy to the ground, towering over him with a foot pressed to his neck. He nodded, wanting to be let free and got up to rush off. I scoffed, but not at the pervert.

“I bet you’re so proud of yourself aren’t you,” I huffed, making Fred frown. He’d yet to see me mad, but it had been growing over time.

“What’s wrong?” His tone was dull, as if he couldn’t be bothered.

“You, you’re so full of yourself” I scoffed again.

Ron and George sloped off, deciding this was between the two of us alone.

“What did he say to you?” Fred tried to change the subject with a sudden gentle tone.

“Jesus why do you do that?”

“Do what?”

My face was blank with annoyance. He was so thick sometimes. He must know what he was doing, no one was that ignorant.

“You spend all day acting as if you hate me, out of nowhere, and then you do this. Play all protective and caring as if it’s normal. None of this IS NORMAL!” I was getting closer to him, trying my best to get him to understand from nearly half a foot shorter.

“I’m doing what we agreed, what’s the problem.”

“Do you hate me? Is that what it is, because tell me now and we can end this.” I laughed, wanting nothing more than to be far away from him.

“Y/n you’re mad over nothing.” He lied.

“I actually thought you could be half decent... but jokes on me eh?” I ranted, getting more and more furious by the second. I could see he was hurt, but my words were still riling him up and pissing him off. Fred took a deep breath to compose himself.

“It’s complicated y/n,” He tried his best to explain calmly, but I was too far gone.

“I get that I’m just charity work to you Fred.”

I went back out of the common room, passing Ron and George leant against a painting on my way down. They called after me, confused, as I raced down the stairs, but I didn’t dare stop. I needed to be away from them all, somewhere safe where I could hide from it all for a little while.

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everything-person · 3 years ago

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Last Voyage

Summary: Emma surprises Killian with an old fashioned voyage with his old crew then Killian has a surprise for Emma

*cough cough*

“You alright?”

“Fine love. Just needed to clear my throat.”

Killian and Emma were walking along the beach in the early morning slowly making their way to the docks.

“We’re almost there.”

“What’s with all the secrecy love?”

Emma smiles up at him there was a shine in her eyes, “You’ll see.”

They made their way down the pier where the Jolly Roger was docked.

“Do you wish to have another one of our private adventures aboard the Jolly Roger? If that’s all you could have just said Swan.”

“Not this time.”

They made their way into the deck where they were greeted by some familiar faces.

“Welcome aboard Captain.”

Before them stood Henry, Hope, Smee and some of his old crew.

Killian smiled while also furrowing his brow. Turning to his wife for answers.

“I thought you might wish to have a day at sea. Re-live your glory days.”

“My glory days started the day I met you Swan.” Picking up her hand and placing a kiss on the back of it. “Will you be joining me, love?”

“No,” she whispered, “not this time. I have somethings to take care of.”

He turned to Henry and Hope. He approached them with open arms.

“Then it’s looks like we’ll be having all the fun. Don’t worry love I’ll have them back before Sundown and we will eagerly enrapture you with our tales of our adventurous day.”

Henry looked down before meeting his eyes, “Actually we promised mom we’d help her with her stuff today. Maybe tonight we can play dice. I might just beat you this time.”

“Oh then perhaps I should give Dave a call. Show him what a pirates life was like.”

Henry shifted clearing his throat before saying, “Uh Grandpa is taking care of the sheriff office while we are helping mom today. Sorry but you stuck with your old crew for today.”

Killian nodded at Henry before turning his attention to his daughter. She had the same shine in her eyes as her mother, biting her lip, looking anywhere but at him.

“What’s wrong lass?”

She inhaled a deep breath before speaking, “Nothing Papa. I’ll just miss you.”

He cupped his daughters face, “Don’t worry, my little cygnet. I’ll be home tonight.”

She nodded embracing him. She burrows her face in his chest breathing him in. “I love you Papa.”

Killian squeezes his daughter not sure what has her so distraught, “I love you to my little cygnet. From your first breath far beyond my last.”

Hope let go heading to the gang plank quickly, without another glance to her father.

Henry approached the man that’s been a mentor, a father figure to him. Wrapping him in his arms, “Good bye Killian.”

Letting go he followed his sister down the gang plank waiting for his mother at the bottom.

Killian turned to see the love of his life standing there. She took slow step towards him her eyes never leaving his. Reaching up held his face, her eyes scanned every inch.

“What’s wrong Emma?”

She’s hooked her head offering him a smile, “Nothing. It just. . . sometimes I can’t believe that blacksmith I tied to a tree that said I need him alive would be so right.”

Killian chuckled, “Aye. Sometimes I can’t believe I forgot about that damned bar wench that kissed the hell out of me.”

She smiled, leaning up catch his lips in a soft kiss. Pulling away she rested her forehead against his, “I love you Killian. Thank you for everything.”

“I love you too Emma. Forever and always.”

Her hands slid down his cheeks to his neck over his shoulders down his arm grasping his hook and hand. Her eyes never leaving his, she started backing away holding onto his hand until she was to far away to hold on any more. Letting her hand fall she turned making her way off the ship. Henry reaches out his hand to help her off the last step intertwining her arm with him.

“When did you become such a gentleman?”

“I’m always a gentleman mom. I learned from the best.”

They made their way up the pier. They say and watched as the ship set sail. Her Captain on the quarter deck waving to his family before turning to wheel where he belonged.

As they stood watching Hope couldn’t hold in her emotions anymore. A sob escaped her lips, as tears started pouring out her eyes. “He should be home. We should be with him.”

Emma embraces her daughter, “That’s never how he wanted to go.”

“But he was fine. He was walking and knew who we were.”

“He also thought Grandpa was alive. He didn’t see us. He probably saw you as the little girl who would ask him to close the window so Peter Pan couldn’t get her. He probably saw me as the ten year old boy he helped rescue from Neverland.”

Emma pulled away looking at her children who have grown into adults that stood before her now.

“Yes but he is so proud of the people you have become. He was so happy to be a father and be apart of this family. He loves you both so much.”

Hope let out another sob as Henry wrapped an arm around her, letting one lone tear slide down his cheek.

“Besides it’s for the best he didn’t see me as I am now. A wrinkly old crown with gray straw for hair,” Emma let out a breathy laugh.

Henry shook his head, “He saw you as you actually are. He always has. The beautiful Savior.”

Emma smiled at her son, “Come on let’s go home.”

Later Emma was going through some things in their room. Remembering all the good times they’ve shared in this house. The wonderful life he shared with her.

She opened his night stand finding the copy of Treasure Island she gave him.

“This is ridiculous. This person obviously had no idea what they were bloody talking about,” Killian muttered.

Emma rolled over, “Babe Go to bed.”

“This book is an atrocity love.”

“Then stop reading it.”

“Why would I do that when they just started the mutiny?”

She laughed to herself. She would always try showing him how this realm reviews pirates with movies and books. Every time he would get riled up but any time she suggested to turn it off or throw the book out he would refuse having to see how it ends.

The next thing she pulled out was a familiar black scarf.

“So now you’re a gentleman?”

“Giants can smell blood. And I’m always a gentleman.” Hook said before putting liquid on her hand.

“Ah! Ow! What is that?”

“Rum and a bloody waste of it.”

He gently wrapped her hand with the soft material tying it off with his mouth. Her fingers lightly brushing against his cheek.

Emma sighed remembering the spark she felt. Wondering not for the first time how much more time they would’ve had if she trusted him. If they came back together. How different their adventures would’ve been.

Something shiny caught her eye and she reached in and pulled out the last item in the drawer.

It was one of his hooks.

Killian kicked open their bedroom door while his lips fused to her. Her legs wrapped around his hips her latched around his neck.

Coming up for air Emma whispers, “Never do that again.”

“I’ll never leave your side even if the gods try to rip us a apart,” he promised before capturing her lips again.

Falling onto the bed they began divesting each other of their clothing. Killian reaches to take off his hook. Emma reaches her hand up, only in her bra and underwear, looking at him through her eyelashes.

“Leave it on.”

Killian groans, “You little minx.”

Emma sighed. As the memory fades away. So many nights, and some days, filled with passion. Both of them always willing to show the other how much they love them. Always up to meet a challenge.

Moving to put the items back in their respective places the book falls from her lap and clatters to the floor. Emma places the scarf and hook back before reaching down picking up the book. When she lifts it a note falls from its pages. Placing the book on the bed she once again reaches down and grabs the fallen piece of paper.

Unfolding it she is greeted with Killian hand writing.

‘Dearest Swan,

I’m sorry. I never wished to leave and now I have no choice in the matter. It seems to be a cruel joke. To be sent back to you by the gods themselves only to have my mind unravel while I’m still with you. I know I don’t have much time left. And I plan to cherish every moment with you I can.

When I do go, all I wish is to be at your side. For the last thing I hold is our family in my arms. The last thing I touch be your face. The last thing I taste be you lips. The last thing I see is the love in your eyes for me. If I am to drawn my last breath I wish it is your kiss that steals it.

And when I am gone. I will keep my promise I made all those years ago. I will move on but I promise you no heaven the gods can provide will compare to the life I have lived with you.

You are the love on my life. The mother of my children. My wife. My savior. My true love.

However long we are apart that will never change. My love will stay with you and I hope give you comfort in your time of need. And when it is your time I can only hope that the gods will once again reunite us.

Until then I ask that every day you live. Hug our children and give them an extra squeeze for me.

With all my love. Yours from the end of the realms and time.

Killian’

Tears fell freely from her eyes. They were never sure if Killian knew what was happening to him. Now she had proof that he did.

A noise pulled her from her thoughts. Still clutching the note to her chest she made her way downstairs. Sharp knocking was coming from her front door.

She opened it to find a pair of blue eye that she engraved into her memory.

“Killian.”

He bent down wrapping her in his arms, burying his face in her neck.

“Sorry ma’am I know you weren’t expecting us so soon but he insisted on turning around and coming home,” Smee explained his signature hat in his hands.

“That’s alright. Thank you for bringing him home.”

Smee nodded, closing the door as he left.

“Why did you send me away love?”

“I thought you’d like to be at sea when the time came.”

Killian finally lifted his head, his gaze burning into her, “Don’t you know Swan all I have ever wanted was to be with you.”

Emma gave him a sad smile, “I do now.”

They made their way up to their bed laying down curling up together one last time. They not sure how long they laid there just enjoying their time together.

Killian reaches up brushing a stray strand of hair out of her face. “I think it’s time love.”

Emma nodded scooting closer.

“I don’t want to leave you alone.”

“You aren’t,” she said with a shaky breath her lip quivering, “You will always be with me. And I’ll follow you shortly.”

She leaned up capturing his lips once last time. She pulls away resting her forehead against his.

“I love you Emma Swan,” he whispered.

She watched as the deep blue eyes that looked last all her walls that have always saw her closed for the last time.

A tear fell from her eye landing on his cheek sliding down his face.

“I love you Killian Jones.”

#ouat #once upon a time #emma swan #captain hook #killian jones #cs fanfic #cs ff #cs one shot #cs angst

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blackcherrykiss · 4 years ago

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BLOOD BOUNDARIES - Enhypen OT7 Fanfic (ch.2)

CH.1 [previous chapter] CH.3 [next chapter]

genre: vampire au, romance, drama, mystery, thriller

note: written inspired by enhypen's storyline, given-taken lyrics & teasers. please keep in mind all members are apart of this fanfic and the main theme is mystery/drama!

That night you got no sleep thinking about Lee Heeseung. Even though the encounter was a bit weird, you were restless and totally head over heels for the guy. It was as if he had cast a spell on you as you're tossing and turning at the scent of vanilla that filled his clothes, a fragrance that just didn't seem to leave your senses. With such unforgettable eye contact, you were finally starting to understand why girls were so attracted to him. But what really left you wondering late at night was how Jungwon had told you to stay away from him.

You shifted on your side, trying to blind the moonlight that seeped through your eyelids when you hear it.

A cry from the outside is scorching through the thick walls of your dorm. It never made sense as to how only you heard these cries at night, they were always blaring in your ears. Even when you'd ask your roommates the following morning, they would hear absolutely nothing but heavy gusts of night wind swaying past their window. Being the only to hear it paranoid you more, were you going mentally insane? Your room was the only one to be in the far north wing, closest to the direction of the woods. The screams evoked feelings of horrid pain.

What was going on deep beyond the boundary?

You catch Jungwon reading at an empty table as you scorch across the dining hall the following morning. You usually sat with your roommates for morning tea but that's only because you'd never run into Jungwon in the mornings. At least not these days.

"How's your condition today?" Jungwon glanced up at you as you pulled out the opposing seat from his.

"Well, this is fine," You lift your wrapped hand into clear view, "but my head still kind of hurts...? Then again, I couldn't sleep at all last night." You admit while folding your arms into a pillow for yourself.

He remained silent.

"Do you usually eat breakfast alone? This is the first time I've spotted you around breakfast time."

"No, I just needed a quieter place this morning? My roommates are kind of loud..." He dozed off while reaching over to fiddle with your nicely bandaged up hand, losing total interest in his book, "I'm actually roommates with Heeseung..."

"Heeseung?! REALLY?" Your excitement was plastered all over your face.

"Mhm." He scrunched his eyes closed in a big idea as to where the conversation was heading by the way you responded.

"Tell me more about him..." You were usually a bit more modest about who you were interested in but Jungwon wasn't someone you were afraid of knowing.

"I told you to stay away from him. He's no good."

"Why do you assume I'm gonna be all over him by asking you for some basic information about him? I'm just curious..."

"Are you not freaked out over what he did?"

"What? Lick my blood?" You laughed recalling the bizarre situation, "It was weird but also sort of attractive?" You shyly said, confused by your own words.

"Attractive? Your standards are literally a foot-deep into a garbage can."

"HEY! It's not that, he's just oozing with attractiveness... Everything he does looks cool... I don't expect you to understand anyways!"

Jungwon went to a loss of words, cupping his face into one of his palms in disappointment.

"But Jungwon, if you're roommates with Heeseung doesn't that mean you also know of..." You paused to recall the names of the other boys associated with Heeseung amongst the girls. ".... Sim Jaeyun? Park Sunghoon, Kim Sunoo? I know they're all friends and I think I have some classes with some of them-"

"How do you know them?!" He panicked, slamming his book face down, visibly damaging its mint condition.

"What girls don't know them." You laughed awkwardly. Honestly, you were worried that you were coming off as a little too boy crazy.

"Don't get involved with them... God, just stay away from all of them."

"Stay away from them? Are they like playboys? Or maybe even Heartbreakers...?" You gasped and giggled at the high probability of the stereotype you created of pretty boys just wanting to break hearts.

"We're not heartbreakers." A voice came up behind you, cutting right through your conversation sharply. Your body began to shut down as you felt a dark presence come to approach your back. You turned your head carefully with a tense neck to see Park Sunghoon shuffle to the other end of the table. "What are you telling her about us? Jungwon." Sunghoon scoffed, taking a seat next to him.

The atmosphere grew unbearably uncomfortable for both you and Jungwon. Something became horribly fishy when you stared at Jungwon's facial expressions. He looked phased with fatal distress from Sunghoon.

It was sort of your fault that Jungwon had got caught in this situation and you felt like you would only add more flames to the fire by staying.

"I think I should go..." You steadily backed out and away from the table in two awkward motions.

Not even a step away from the table your face met the same familiar fragrance of vanilla, "But the fun just started?" Heeseung's voice was lower than usual, intoxicating to your ears,

"That's too bad... I was just saying hello to Jungwon." You backed away as much as possible to give yourself breathing space, seeing Jaeyun (Jake) over Heeseung's shoulder.

"Really? It didn't sound like you were just saying hello." Sunghoon pointed out.

You didn't know how much Sunghoon had heard but you knew damn well he heard too much. "I'll see you around Jungwon." You cut through the thick atmosphere created by the boys.

"Jungwon told her to stay away from us... Right Jungwon?" Sunghoon had a villainous smile painted all over his pale face. The vibe you were getting from the boys was a little more than just intimidating but you couldn't put your finger on what act these boys were putting up.

"Away from us? Wouldn't that mean she'd also need to stay away from you too?" Heeseung's pray had now changed as his full attention was now all on Jungwon. You took this opportunity to evacuate the scene.

III

You shiver as you head to your first class of the day, hungry yet sick to your stomach. You had missed the chance to eat that morning and instead used the time to ponder the situation. You were starting to feel the bad vibe from some of the boys now and it worried you tremendously about Jungwon. Something was off about their relationship.

You scurry into the girls change room, a little earlier than most people. You were shocked to see the locker room deserted.

"Y/n! You're so early today!"

"I'm just early because I skipped breakfast. It saves so much time I guess." You spoke your mind mindlessly.

"Not unless you wake up earlier and eat earlier." Kyungeun nagged.

"You come later than me on most days! Why are you so early?" You removed your uniform to change into your gym attire, the same old washed-out grey tracksuit.

"Honestly... I didn't really want people seeing something." She whispered.

"Hmm? See what?" You said while looking for your track pants through your cluttered bag.

"You promise you won't mention what you see?"

Kyungeun was quite popular compared to your other friends and she always mentioned to you how you were part of the only people she trusted. Although many people saw the loud and wild version of her, you always got to see the more serious and relaxed side of her.

"Kyungeun, I literally have no one to tell anything to. Who am I going to tell?" You reassured her in a light hearted manner while tying your hair back.

She shrugged her tracksuit jacket off on one side to expose flesh near the back of her neck and shoulder.

...

CH.1 [previous chapter] CH.3 [next chapter]

#enhypen vampire #enhypen fanfic #enhypen scenarios #enhypen imagine #yang jungwon #lee heeseung #park jongseong #sim jaeyun #park sunghoon #kim sunoo #nishimura riki #jungwon fanfic #heeseung fanfic #jay enhypen fanfic #jake enhypen fanfic #sunghoon fanfic #sunoo fanfic #niki fanfic

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atsuumus · 4 years ago

Text

set, confess | tobio kageyama

pairing - tobio kageyama x reader

synopsis - in which kageyama runs away from you every time you try to confess to him, and you don’t know why.

word count - 2.08k

he has to be doing this on purpose. you can come up with no other explanation why every time you approach him with a gift in your hand and a confession on your lips, he simply takes the little cardboard box, gives you a curious, vaguely concerned glance, and thanks you for the treat before running off with his milk. you can never think of anything else to give him. it’s always milk. you’re pretty sure the button for milk on the vending machine is irreversibly dented inwards by now, both from his aggressive jabs and your constant presses. every single time you finally pluck up enough courage to even consider telling him of the feelings that bubble up in your heart ( which, if you’re being honest, is pretty much every other week, seeing how your friends’ constant pestering and teasing always bring you to proclaim that you’ll actually tell him this time, and then never get the chance to ) and slip a few coins into the worn white vending machine in exchange for a packet of milk, you end up watching the blue words printed on its surface slowly get further and further away as the boy named tobio kageyama runs towards the gym a little bit away from the main school building. it’s like the tiny blue smudge in his hands is mocking you. calling you an idiot for buying one after another for a boy who always runs away before you can ever say anything.

by now, you’re convinced that he knows you like him, doesn’t like you back, and is, in fact, purposefully avoiding you so he doesn’t have to hear your confession and brutally reject you. no matter what hitoka says, that has to be the case. you know you can trust her when she swears every time he walks into the gym with a packet of milk you bought him, he seems happier. and every time hinata teases him with a big grin and a “ did y/n buy that for you ? ” he gets all red and flustered and tells him to shut up, because yes, you did, and why would that matter. she says kageyama likes you back. and while you’d trust hitoka with your life and all your secrets, you aren’t so sure you take her word for it. after all, if kageyama really liked you back, as she said, then wouldn’t he actually stop and listen to what you had to say instead of taking his milk packet and running ? if you didn’t like him this much, you’d report him for daylight robbery. the fact that you technically did buy it for him anyways is irrelevant.

you’ve had enough at this point. you’re quickly running out of patience ( and money ) and your heart just physically cannot take this anymore. all you want to do is tell him so he can say no and you can move on. why can’t he stay still long enough to hear you out ? it’s so frustrating. you’re so frustrated. you hate it here. it kinda, really, sucks. you are very, very close to knocking him out and tying him to a chair, just so he can’t go running off to practice the minute the milk packet’s in his hand. all you’d need is some rope and a baseball bat. it’s very possible. the more you think about it, the closer you are to googling where you can buy a baseball bat.

the reasonable part of your brain talks you out of it. it is pretty illegal, and you don’t want to go to jail. that is strictly a last resort. instead, you decide to simply attend the volleyball club’s match ( because what could be more cliche than that ? ) and catch him before he goes home. hitoka's always asked you to attend a match with her, so it should be fine.

hitoka gladly meets up with you at the stadium the next afternoon. you didn’t have time to buy milk for kageyama, and you hand feels strangely empty without that little white packet. you’ve only ever come across volleyball in physical education - the little volleyball segment that’s part of the curriculum is the only experience you’ve had with the sport. hitoka meets up with you as promised and brings you with her to see the team before their match. you only really know the first years - hinata greets you with a smile and a cheerful welcome. tsukishima and yamaguchi are people you’ve seen in passing, and you wave awkwardly at them. the second and third years you bow to. kiyoko, the third-year manager, gives you a smile and thanks you for taking the time to come down and watch. you stand next to hitoka and try your best not to catch kageyama’s eyes, though you see him frown at you every now and then.

you catch his hand just before you join hitoka in the stands. he seems to holt a little at your touch, but he doesn't pull away. you wonder why. " g-good luck, " you actually meet his eyes this time, and you're surprised to see pink decorating his cheeks. his palm is rough but warm against yours, and you can't help but notice how small your hand is compared to his. for some reason, it makes you soft. he doesn't respond and you let go, turning to run up the stairs after hitoka, cheeks burning red. your palm tingles a little, like your skin is trying to remember the feeling of his hand in yours.

okay, so maybe there's a chance he likes you. at least, that's what you think, before the match starts and you catch him looking at you like you’re a cockroach who snuck into his court. ( you don’t know this, but it’s just because you watching him play makes him nervous for some reason, and he doesn’t know how to process and react accordingly. ) you see him and hinata bicker over something a couple of times, but you have no idea about what. the rest of the team seems to find it amusing - two second years you know as tanaka and nishinoya pat kageyama's back once or twice. you do wonder why kageyama’s cheeks go bright pink every time. ( you don’t know this either, but it’s because hinata says he’s been showing off because you’re here and he likes you and he refuses to admit it. ) you’ve never really liked volleyball to the point where you’d want to play professionally, but you even with your inexperience, you know that they’re good. it’s pretty impressive. you make a mental note to attend another match when hitoka invites you.

the match ends way too soon - karasuno wins, your voice is very much gone, you’re pretty much exhausted at this point. you’re also severely dehydrated. you might be dying. but it was worth it, because you don’t think you’ve ever seen kageyama that happy. the thought only serves to drive a stake further into your heart, the notion that only something like volleyball will ever make him smile like that - not you, not anything you could ever do. you almost chicken out and run all the way home, but you’re not sure whether you’ll ever have a chance like this again - maybe he’ll be nice when he’s breaking your heart into little pieces, still riding that victory high.

you start down the stairs towards the doors that lead to the court, where you know you’ll bump into him. on the way, you notice a big white vending machine, not unlike the one back at school, stocked with everything from water to soda to fruit juice. a familiar white packet catches your eye. subconsciously, you pause. it’s like you’re on autopilot - you fish your wallet out of your bag and slip a few coins into the machine, gently pressing the button you want. it’s slightly more expensive than the milk you get from the vending machine back at school, even though it’s the exact same product, right down to those damn blue letters you’ve proclaimed Enemy Number One. it just feels right, you think, as you duck down to collect the little milk packet from the machine. you wrap your fingers around it tightly, the tension going out of your shoulders every so slightly. it feels like an old friend, at this point. you can’t decide if that’s a good thing or not.

“ kageyama ! ” you catch him leaving the court, still in his jersey, wiping the sweat from his forehead. he freezes when he hears you call his name, shoulders tensing, and your heart sinks a little bit. he probably doesn’t want to talk to you ; that’s why he’s been running away, why he’s been avoiding you. his eyebrows furrow when he turns to look at you, nose scrunching ever so slightly. that cannot be a good sign. ( the tops of his cheekbones are dusted in hues of red and pink, but that’s only because of the game, right. . . ? wrong. )

here you go. it’s long overdue. finally, he’s standing right in front of you. you have to be quick, or he’ll run away again - whether it’s because he doesn’t want to hear this or because he has to go back to the team, he’ll slip through your fingers again. you take a deep breath, before hesitantly extending the little packet of milk towards him. he mutters a soft “ thank you, ” as he reaches out for it, and that’s when the words slip past your lips - “ i-i like you ! ”

he pauses, and when you peek upwards to meet his eyes, you see the confusion swirling in them, the bemused pout on his lips. did he really not know. . . ? “ i like you too. . . ? we’re friends. . . ? ”

you know what. you’re only very slightly surprised.

you’re on the verge of tears, you swear. you’re going to cry. and you don’t cry easily. it’s a mixture of relief, frustration, and a sudden overwhelming urge to simultaneously throw the milk packet at his face and die of sheer relief. inhale, exhale. all this while, you thought he hated you - all this while, he was simply too thick and too focused on volleyball to notice. you hate him. so much. you feel as if your soul has left your body.

“ i. . . no, ” you’re not sure how to continue. your statement only serves to confuse him more. you can’t believe you fell for this man. “ i like you. like, i want to be your girlfriend. you know. that kind of like. ”

every word has you curling into yourself slightly, tucking your chin into the collar of your uniform as a sudden wave of embarrassment washes over you. the hand still holding the milk packet out to him is kind of sore. you wonder if he’ll take it, or if you’ve embarrassed him too.

a choked sound escapes his throat, and you look back up at him in slight alarm - you never considered the possibility that he would quite literally choke and die at your confession, and you wonder what you’ll do if he starts going blue due to a lack of oxygen. you’re about to run off for one of his teammates or something for help, but then he takes the milk packet from your hands and very, very shyly replaces it with his own, pressing his palm against yours like the world’s most awkward handshake. his fingers barely brush your skin, like he’s scared to touch you, and you find that you just really want to hold his hand properly. you have no idea what he’s doing - it makes your heart skip a beat anyways. you don’t really mind this awkward handshake thing. it’s kind of endearing. you’re also just a simp.

he clears his throat, cheeks burning red, and mumbles something, so soft that you can barely hear it. you have a good idea of what it might be, but just to be sure, you ask him to say it again. the words that greet you must be the best things you’ve heard in your entire life, and you’ve heard a lot of things.

“ w-well, i like you too. ”

#kageyama x reader #tobio kageyama #kageyama imagines #haikyuu!!#haikyuu fluff #haikyuu imagines #hq x reader #kageyama scenarios #drabble #tobio kageyama x reader #yu writes #crow boys

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j0hn-deacons-perm · 4 years ago

Text

Charcoal Dust

Female reader x Brian May

Word Count ~6,100.

I had this fic sitting in my documents since August and re-reading it, I didn’t hate it. So I guess I’m posting it. A bit of a warning I suppose...it goes get slightly suggestive but not 18+..If you’re sensative to that sort of thing, maybe skip this one my dudes.

With the last flick of your eyeliner, you deem yourself ready to head out to the bar. Freddie wanted to let off some steam with finals and you couldn't help but to join in. The apartment you two share have been littered with projects and materials and he almost strangled you for not cleaning up your charcoal dust. With that being the straw which broke the camel's back, tonight is to just get shit faced and to have fun. At least Fred settled one a bar that isn't too much of a walk so you don't have to worry about driving. Grabbing your coat, you leave the complex and into the cold december night.

***

"Y/N, dearie, you're here! Finally the night can commence!"

Freddie runs to you and wraps his arm around your shoulders.

"The boys are here as well. Can't tell you how much work it took to get John out."

Your eyes settle on Deaky, already a bit drunk and waving at you with a grin. "Evenin' Y/N! How's it going?"

"Not as good as you from the looks of it. But I bet a couple drinks could fix that."

You turn to the bar and order your usual mix drink along with a round of shots for everyone.

"Here's to having a good night amongst friends!"

"Cheers!"

Everyone downs their shot and you finally sit down, taking the empty spot next to Deaky. Roger and Brian seem to be in their own little world talking about something so you don't bother with that can of worms yet.

"Y/N, did you find a new model for your drawing yet?"

"Nope. That fucking Steven kid answered my ad, took my payment then just vanished. Won't answer the phone, haven't seen him around campus..I'm out like 80 quid and nothing to draw for my final."

"Ouch. What does it entail exactly?"

"I need to do a live nude model study."

Roger's ears seem to perk up with the mention of 'nude'.

"I can help you out with that, love."

Brian rolls his eyes and Freddie chuckles.

"So, me buying you a shot doesn't get your attention but mentioning I need to draw a naked person does?"

"Well, yeah. You should know this by now."

"I thought alcohol and nudity were on the same tier of importance to you, Taylor."

"Close..but not quite."

You nod at him with a fake academic-like expression as you rub your chin.

"Right, so if anyone knows someone who would be down to model for me let me know."

"I just said I was!"

"Anyone but Roger."

"Oh! What about Brian, dear? He'd be a great model."

The man in question glares.

"Uh..Fred, I don't think so."

"Why ever the fuck not? I've seen you naked before, May. You'd be fantastic. Plus Y/N gets to see your cute little bottom and huge cock!"

His cheeks turn bright red.

"Absolutely not, Fred."

Freddie looks over to your face, laughing despite blushing profusely. He knows of your small crush on the guitarist and loves to relish in opportunities making you and Brian uncomfortable in hopes you two would actually do something. Much to his, and your disappointment, nothing ever happens.

"Well I would do it but I don't have the time in my schedule considering I'm going to be stuck in the art building working on my own shit. Now come on, don't subject her to Roger."

Brian looks over to you, finding you playing with a hem on your shirt, trying to distract yourself from the awkward conversation.

"Well we both know Bri's not going to do it, so when can I come over, love?"

With a slump of your shoulders, you face the blonde.

"It's not a sexual thing where I draw everything, you know. You're going to be in a pose you can hold for a long period of time while I focus on drawing mainly your prominent body landmarks like ribs, pelvis, and muscles along with bones."

"See, Bri? It's not a personal experience, she's just studying your anatomy. With how lanky you are, it'd be easy to see everything."

"I'll also pay you for your time. Might be a bit before I can get the money but you will be compensated. Also if it's too much for you, you can wear your underwear for most of it until I need to get a certain part."

He looks between you and Freddie, a sigh escapes his lips.

"Fine. I'll do it."

Freddie smirks at you and gives a wink before coming into to whisper in your ear.

"Just a heads up, I've seen him naked and you may have to draw three legs."

You turn bright red but can't help but to cackle at his comment. Brian rolls his eyes and says 'fucker' under his breath.

*** A couple drinks turn to quite a few and talking with Brian ended up with the date, time and place for your drawing session. Now that three days have passed, the time arrives along with four knocks on the door.

"Hey Y/N."

"Hey Bri, thank you so much again for doing this for me."

He looks around the living room and sees you've set up your workspace: an easel, one of the living room chairs and one of the end tables with your box of drawing utensils. He also looks at how it's pointed towards the sofa with a sheet draped on it.

"How would you like me?"

"Comfortable. You'd probably be stuck in that spot for a while. I have pillows if you want 'em."

He nods and sits down on the sofa while you go towards the record player and pop on one of your favorite records.

"I like to work to music so hope you're okay listening to the Beatles for a few hours."

"Why would I complain about good music?"

You chuckle as you sit down in your spot, making any last minute adjustments to the easel's height. Turning your head to the sofa, you see him unbuckling his belt before slipping his shirt off. Back towards you.

Freddie was right, he has a good figure to make this assignment easy for you. Despite trying to stay professional, it's hard to not check out your crush as he strips. When the pants start slipping off, you turn away, too shy to look anymore.

He is your friend, Y/N...he is your friend who is helping you with a project. Don't make this weird..

But then you remember your roll of tape for the sheet so when it's break time, you won't lose the pose.

Shit...

"Hey Bri, once you settle on a pose, would it be okay if I put some tape around you so we don't lose the pose after we take a break?"

"Yeah, that's okay. I also might take you up on that pillow offer."

"Sounds good, I'll be right back."

You smile as you get up and leave for your bedroom to grab him a couple pillows off your bed. When you walk back into the living room, you swear the air has shifted once you see him laying in his underwear on the couch, watching the record spin on the turn table. A knot forms in your stomach..

You're working on your final, you're working on your final, you're working on your final.....

You walk up towards him and hands him the pillows. He promptly adjusts them to fit his pose.

"This alright for your composition, Y/N?"

"Let me check."

You sit down back in your chair and look at what you can see. You can see many of the body's landmarks..ribs, collar bones, muscles, parts of the pelvis...but not the strongest for a good composition.

"The pose is fine but I'm going to move over a bit to get a more interesting angle of ya."

You scoot your set up closer towards the turntable, giving a more dynamic angle of your model.

"Alright, we're looking good. Just need to tape where you're at and we can get started."

Hands slightly shaking on the masking tape roll, you rip pieces off and place them where Brian's posed. It's easy to tell he's tense.

"Bri, you're welcome to chat during this if you want. And whenever you want to take a break to stretch out, do not hesitate to ask."

"Sounds good, love. I guess I'm ready when you are."

He's called you love before but now it seems a bit different...

HE IS JUST HELPING YOU ON YOUR FINAL PROJECT, STOP IT

You rub over your paper pad, sighing and grab your hard charcoal to get the initial lines and shapes in. You can see him closing his eyes once more marks land on your paper. His shoulders also slowly begin to become less tense.

*** Two full albums later, Brian calls break time. You clean your hands off on your pants and set your charcoal back in its box next to you. Having the main structures done and angles correct, you feel good about the progress.

"How's it coming along, love?"

"I think maybe another hour or so and we'll be good."

"Can I sneak a look or is it confidential?"

You nod your head for him to take a look, his presence now behind your back as he analyzes your work. Nerves become more apparent the longer he's silent. You're about to look over your shoulder until you hear him say

"I'm really liking it so far, Y/N. Fred's told us about your work and it's incredibly articulate. However it is odd knowing that's me on your paper."

You blush profusely at his compliment, even more so now that you realize he's extremely close to your body wearing just underwear.

"Well how about I grab you a robe and I'll make us some coffee?"

"Sounds lovely to me, especially since seeing how you're fully clothed, I'm a bit vulnerable."

"I don't mean to make you uncomfortable! Let's get that robe."

"I'm not uncomfortable, just a bit cold maybe."

Leaving for your room once again, you grab your robe. It might be a bit too short for the gentle giant in your living room but it's better than nothing.

"I'm surprised you didn't give me Fred's."

"You don't want it, trust me."

He laughs, tying the belt around his middle and follows you into the small kitchen to grab his favorite mug whenever he visits. The silence grows more comfortable as you hear the coffee drip into the small pot and another cabinet opens to grab the sugar. You open the fridge to grab the milk. Your pour the hot liquid as he adds the sugar to the two mugs, followed by the splash of milk you like in yours. Smiles meet each other and you two sit back in the living room, a new record begging to be played.

"Want more Beatles or how about just some John? I have Plastic Ono Band and Imagine."

"Oh god, that's a decision isn't it?"

"It really is. I'm half tempted to just put Hard Day's Night on."

"Did you see that in theaters? The girls went absolutely mad."

"With that scene with John in the bath? I'm sure I still have hearing issues from that. It got even worse seeing Help."

"George bit?"

"George bit."

Laughs echoed amongst the walls, sharing knowing glances at how loud the shrieking was.

"Have to love sort of shared traumatic experiences. But I'm intrigued, who is your favorite of the four?"

"The Beatles or Queen?"

A slight smirk dances across his lips.

"Beatles? When I was younger, Paul. In more recent years, has to be John. I really respect his political work and his solo albums are so personal and raw."

He nods at your answer, agreeing.

"But with you lot? No one. Don't tell Freddie that, he'll plant something in my bed."

He answers in a hearty laugh.

'It's not like I can say you before we get back to working on a naked drawing of you...'

*** With Lennon playing on the speakers and more charcoal on paper, you're back at it again. Brian somehow managed to get himself back into the same pose with one or two directions from you. Things are now going easier considering the drawing is now just filling in the blanks until you couldn't get one detail right due to it being covered by his underwear. The more you try to remember how the muscles and bone look, the more incorrect it looks to your eyes. The inevitable needs to happen.

"Hey Brian, I'm hating to ask this but uh...I can't get the lower abs to look right with the pelvis. Could you....takeyourunderwearoff."

The last part just rushed past your lips as fast as you could. Your cheeks are bright red, a tell tale sign being how hot your face just became. It's even worse when he arches his brow.

"What was that last part?"

You sigh deeply.

"Could you...take your underwear off so I can get your pelvis a bit better?"

"Oh...uh, yeah."

His cheeks probably match yours but you cover your eyes while he strips the last bit of cloth standing between him being completely exposed in front of you.

"Alright Y/N, you can look now."

His nervous laughter is puntuated with your eyes opening again. While you have a clearer view of the muscles in question, you also have a clearer view of other things.

You now understand why it's called a happy trail.

Correcting his angles once again, you start where you just left off. Only to have the record stop playing, meaning you had to stand up and change the music. Meaning probably a clear view of his, what Freddie called, 'his third leg'. Hands slightly shakey as they remove the vinyl and put it back in its respective sleeve. Fingers lead their way towards Revolver, your go-to homework album. Once the intro of Taxman plays, you make your way back to your seat. During which, your peripheral vision does you dirty.

Fred wasn't entirely kidding. Dear god, Y/N, you're almost done just finish your damn project so Bri can go home and you can take a cold shower...

You sit back down and sigh, taking your charcoal and getting back to work, correcting any inaccuracies caused by his underwear being in the way and adding more to his figure. Side one is over far too soon, causing you to get up and be betrayed by your eyes once again.

At least now it's just adding a bit of definition to the head and small details. Taking the blunt end of your charcoal stick, you begin adding some hair to the drawing. The couple hairs on his chest, a gesture of pubic hair and some messy lines for the curls on top of his head. Staring at his face now, he peeks his eyes open and winks at you then smiles.

"I thought you weren't going to draw my face?"

"Just a little something so it's not just a blank shape."

"Alright. Do you want my eyes open or closed?"

"Do what you want, Bri."

His eyes land on the legs of your easel, moving them around a bit to follow the smudges of paint and charcoal about. Your eyes trace along the angles of his face, adding them to the basic head shape you added during the beginning steps. Browbone, cheeks, nose, eyes, brows, and gesture of his slightly open mouth put down on paper as you mark it done. Looking at the lower right corner of your paper and taking your thin marker, you write your name, class session, semester, and model's first name.

"Alright Bri, I think we're good to go. Want to come take a look?"

Standing up and putting your robe back on, he walks behind the chair. His eyes take in the final composition, from the pillows to his curls all the way down to how to managed to get the angle right on his feet. The sofa, while made of basic abstract shapes, make him look like he's properly weighed out on the cushions.

"It's weird seeing me like that."

"I bet. Talking with some of the models outside of class, they tell me it takes some getting used to seeing shit like this."

"Seeing what others see in your naked body is very...daunting. I think you made me look too good to be honest."

"I just drew what I saw, May."

You look up behind you and catch him blushing, looking down at you while smiling.

"You are incredibly talented, Y/N. If you don't get an A, I'm taking personal offense with your instructor."

You blush hard at the compliment while laughing at his comment.

"Honestly, I would too. You made a beautiful model, Bri. It was an honor to draw you."

Why did I just say that?..

He looks away, face looking shy. He takes compliments almost as bad as you. He sits down back on the sofa, looking at you.

"Now, you did say at the bar that I'd be compensated for my time."

"That I did."

You start to pack away your drawing supplies before digging a can of hairspray out of your backpack. Spraying a light coat over your drawing, you let it dry before packing it away for safe keeping.

His eyes watch you dismantle your workspace, showing him something you've done nearly a hundred times over. Little did you know, seeing you in your element like this made his heart swell. Brian knew you were an art student but never saw you at work. Little did he know, yours did the same when you saw him at practice or on stage. After cleaning up and putting furniture back in their right spots, you sit down in the chair to only find Brian patting the cushion next to him. Giving him a fake glare, you sit next to him.

"I've been thinking of payment and would it just be fine if we ordered some take away and hung out? I'd feel bad taking your money."

"You sure? I'd feel bad not compensating you for your time."

"Y/N, I laid on your couch, chatted with you and listened to my favorite music. Yeah it was a bit weird considering I take a girl out before she sees me naked but hey."

You laugh nervously at his joke, blushing for probably the 53rd time that night.

"I'll get dressed and we'll head out, that good for you?"

"Yeah. I need to change clothes anyway."

"Why? You look cute covered in charcoal."

Your heart nearly jumps out of your chest like a looney toons character. You and the guys are used to calling eachother cute or handsome but something about him being just about naked underneath your robe after drawing him for nearly two hours makes your heart race at a dangerous pace.

"Let's get ready, hmm?"

He stands up, clothes in tow as he walks to the bathroom. The sound of the door closing brings you back to the moment. Grabbing your pillows and sheet off the couch, you leave for your room. The slight smell of him lingering on the fabric fills your nostrils as you throw it towards your laundry basket.

"Goddammit...don't get your hopes up. It's not like this is a date, Y/N..." You whisper under your breath.

Grabbing the clothes you wore earlier today, you get dressed and apply a little extra deodarant and perfume. By the time you've put your shoes on and out of your room, he's slipping his shoes on. Even in mid-December, he's wearing his clogs. He hears your laughter from across the room.

"What's so funny?"

"Bri, it's Christmas in nearly two weeks and you're wearing clogs? If you slip on ice thanks to those things, I’m not helping you up."

"It hasn’t snowed yet, though! Have to wear them while there's still time. Besides, look who's bloody talking wearing canvas sneakers in the cold."

"At least my entire foot is in the shoe."

"That's it, I'm not letting you borrow my scarf if it's still windy. Not with that attitude."

You smack his arm and grab your purse off the coat rack. Locking the door behind you is the last thing before you two leave for any place that is still serving food at this hour.

***

Only getting as far as a corner store, you two buy a couple drinks then enough snacks to constitute a meal. The walk back to the apartment was on the quiet side, Brian looking up to the sky every few blocks in a vain attempt to see any stars that would accompany the moon shining that night. Not much for viewing besides the waxing moon hanging above your heads, hundreds of thousands miles away.

"Hey Bri?"

His features seem almost guilty, being caught in the act but he smiles at you.

"Would it be possible for you to teach me some things about what's up there? Fred's showed me some astrology stuff but it would be kinda cool seeing the constellations and what makes them, y'know?"

"I'd just talk your ear off."

"Can't be too bad, I deal with that already."

You wink as he rolls his eyes.

"But I'm serious, I want to know a little bit about what you study in uni. Especially since we go to different schools, it'd be interesting seeing another side of academics that isn't just color theory or how to mathematically draw cylinders."

"How do you mathematically draw cylinders?"

"It's all about angles and where it sits in space, mostly. Getting that perspective correct. After enough practice I guess you can just sort of see it rather than drawing out all these different grids and lines."

"Does that tie in with drawing people?...That's probably a stupid question of course it does."

"It does but with that, you also need to keep in mind where things in the body are. In our class we also have to do these...sculpting lessons. We're given half a skeleton on a stand and we sculpt the muscles using clay."

He nods, listening to you talk about your coursework and your subject matters from basics to more focused studies. Once back to your apartment, you find Freddie has returned from the art building. The noises of you and Brian taking off shoes and coats made him pop his head around the wall.

"Y/N, lovie, how did your drawing session go?"

"Rather well! Want to see it?"

"Well of course, dear!"

You grab your and Brian's bags from the corner store and place it on the kitchen counter before heading over to your drawing pad, propped up against your chair. Nerves arise as you watch his eyes gaze over your work, the smell of the hairspray you used seal in the charcoal floating to your nostrils.

"Fucking hell, this is brilliant. If you get a bad mark I'm visiting your professor during office hours and giving them a piece of my mind."

He looks down Brian's legs on the paper, your careful contour lines elegantly outlining the muscles.

"I think you forgot a leg, though."

Brian's rolls his eyes as Fred's cackle fills the room. You slap the sketchpad closed and return it to it's spot next to your school bag. A sympathetic look is aimed towards your model.

"Come on you two, lighten up. How about a game of Scrabble, hmm?"

"It is getting a little late, Fred, and Brian has to get back to his place."

"He knows he's welcome to crash on the couch if he wants."

The man in question looks between you two, biting his lip in thought.

"I wouldn't mind crashing here tonight. I'm sure Roger wouldn't mind the flat to himself."

"Then it's settled. You old ladies get your food out of the kitchen and we start this game."

What wasn't expected was Brian winning with such a lead. You could've sworn you've seen Fred's eyes glow red as he told the curly haired man to get out of his home for disrepecting him that severely. He went to bed infuriated as he left you two out in the living room to watch TV.

"You sure you want to spend the rest of your Friday night here?"

"It's technically Saturday morning now."

"Smart ass."

He smiles and slowly leans towards you on the sofa, his warmth sneaking up the arm closest to him.

"Hey Bri?"

He hums in response, eyes not leaving the program painting the screen.

"I never really properly thanked you for helping me with my assignment. You honestly saved my grade modeling for me."

He turns his head to face you, eyes looking at yours illuminated by the screen's light.

"You're more than welcome, love. It was interesting watching you work. You have this little face you make when you're really concentrated."

"Where I don't blink and my mouth is partially open? That's my focusing amphibian look."

He chuckles.

"Roger does the same thing but that's his confused look."

"I thought his confused face was this.."

You imitate the face you've seen many times during your homework sessions with the boys. Also when he tries to understand what Fred wants to do add extra flair to shows or songs.

"No, you're right. That's the one." He laughs.

Comfortable silence floats around the air as you two continue watching telly. Thirty meants turn into 90 as the episodes of various shows play before you. Slight comments here and there said but it wasn't until Brian laid his head on top of your head that something was really spoken.

"I have a question."

"Care to share with the class, May?"

You can feel his cheeks stretch out with a slight smile.

"Would you think less of me if I put my studies on hold when, or even if the band gets bigger? I know we only have one album out at the minute but I've thought about it and..."

Patting his knee, you spoke.

"I could never think less of you for persuing something like that. You and the guys have worked your asses off and if, no, when your hardwork pays off, grab those opportunities. You earned any success that comes your way."

He moves his head to look directly into your eyes.

"Knowing you, you'll eventually get your PhD but sometimes life throws you a curveball and you have to just roll with what it gives you. If it's Queen, then see it through."

Surprise washes over you as he gives you a hug, enveloping you in his arms tightly as his face creates a home in the crook of your neck. This breath along your skin giving away to goosebumps.

"I've been thinking about this for weeks and um...."

"Did you already drop out, Bri?"

"No, no..."

"Uh huh..." You narrow your eyes at him.

"Seriously, Y/N, I haven't dropped out of uni. I've been thinking about...."

You pull away and look at his eyes directly, cheeks flushed even in the low light of the living room.

"What is it?"

He sighs, looking down at his lap.

"You."

Eyes going wide, you look at anything but him. The stray floaty in the air, the reflection of light as a car drives past your flat, the one stray strand of yarn or whatever it is sticking out of the rug on the floor.

"I'm not saying this because you drew me naked and I'm feeling obligated to but tonight made me realize something."

Your eyes finally focusing on your hands, fingernails picking at cuticles.

"If this does become something larger than life, I don't want to leave you behind. When Freddie introduced us to you last year, there was something about you I couldn't shake off. I wasn't sure what it was the chalk pastel dust you were covered in or something else."

You smile at his words but your heart doesn't lighten up the speed at the rate it's beating. When it comes loose, it's going to skyrocket across the English channel.

"But now actually getting to know you over time and tonight made me come to the conclusion that....I certainly have feelings for you and I don't know what you want to do with that information."

Your fingers stop picking at a loose bit of skin on the side of your nail and you swear your heart just stopped in your chest. Eyes wide, you stare at him. Mouth agape, not knowing what to say other than just "Bri..."

"I can see I made you uncomfortable, I'm sorry. Maybe I should head ho-"

As he begins to stand up, you grab his wrist and pull him right back down towards your side.

"Meeting you was one of the most profound days in my life, Bri. You...fuck,...I'm not a wordsmith and I'm nervous as all hell right now."

He smiles ever so slightly but his leg bounces with such vigor you wouldn't be surprised if your downstairs neighbor complained to the landlord tomorrow.

"And now hearing you may have feelings for me? Like...how do I even process this when it's something I've been wanting to hear for almost a year?"

It's now his turn for his eyes to buldge open in shock.

"When you first talked to me about astrophysics and I saw your entire demeanor light up with such passion, my heart damn near stopped. I couldn't focus on anything else but you. Even when you're just relaxed I feel like that. You're breathtaking and I'm pretty sure I went comotose and had a lucid dream seeing you perform with the boys for the first time."

He smiles, eyes looking directly into yours as your mouth just vomits out any word you promised to never let out.

"I've fallen for you so hard. I love your smile and laugh. I love the slope of your nose. I love that you've let your hair be curly because let's be real, you looked real questionable when you straightened it."

He laughs and you can tell his cheeks are heating up.

"I love that little noise you make when you find something interesting in your textbooks and your hums when you're thinking of a new song and your little eyerolls at the boys when they're being dumbasses and your sense of humor and just......fuck, look at you! You're so fucking handsome and that's even with the clogs!"

He grabs your hands, rubbing his thumbs against the knuckles. His smile shining so bright even with the low light from the television that's now taken a backside seat of your conversation. He looks down at your entertwined hands.

"Calling you a friend and wanting to see you has gotten me out of bed so many days Y/N, I've lost count. I can't even imagine if you'd be more than a friend to me but I guess we can find out."

Your smile has extended to lengths you didn't know possible. Letting go of his hands, you wrap your arms around him instead.

"I forgot to say this, but I also love your hugs."

A chuckle escapes his chest and he holds you tighter, a kiss lands on your cheek. Time goes by as shows flash before your eyes, eventually leading to you falling asleep in his arms with him not too far behind.

*** Hours pass before you awake, head laying on his lap and knees tucked in. Sitting up, you find him using the arm rest as his pillow, arms crossed underneath his face. He looks so peaceful and you don't want to take him up but you want to sleep in your bed.

Dare you ask if he wants to join you?

It'll just be us sleeping together in the same bed and maybe cuddles...?

You brush his curls away from his face, tucking what you can behind his ear as you shake him gently.

"Hey Brian..?"

He doesn't stir, contemplating on just his carrying his lanky ass to your room.

"Bri.. wake up, hon. Come on."

You continue rubbing his upper arm until he stirs awake, opening his eyes and squinting at the screen's light.

"...What time is it?"

"Late. Would you want to sleep on the couch or my bed?"

"I'm fine out here, I don't want to take your bed from you."

You smile and chuckly slightly.

"I mean share the bed with me."

He smiles at the idea but eyes are shy.

"I'd like that."

You two stand up, him shutting up the TV and you leading the way to your room with his hand in yours. Navigating the small hallway at night lead to him bumping into you twice, and him saying apologies but you could not care less.

Once in your room and switching on the light, he's greeted to your own personal space. He can see canvases with studio projects painted on them under your bed, posters littering your walls. Some local band shows you've attended, a Queen one catching his interest. His eyes also catch your Beatles poster, the one from their White Album. He also sees the pillow he used earlier that day when he was modeling along with the robe tossed into the corner with the rest of your dirty laundry.

"I think I might have a pair of pants you could wear unless you're not a pants to bed kind of guy."

"No pants is what I normally go for but if you're uncomfortable with that I ca-"

"It's fine with me, just no funny business, May."

"Are cuddles out of the equation?"

"I sure as hell hope not."

He smiles and removes his necklaces, placing them next to your sketchbooks on top of the small desk next to the bed. You change into sleep shorts as he takes his trousers off.

Never thought I'd see that twice today.

Shutting off the light and climbing into bed, he goes first, leaving you in your usual spot. Fluffing up the pillows and adjusting the blankets now done, He wraps you in his arms almost immediately, lips kissing your cheek gently.

"You have enough pillows, Bri?"

"Yes. Thank you, love."

"Want me to grab another blanket?"

He laughs gently, kissing your face one last time.

"I'm more than okay."

You turn around to face him head on, able to make out where his eyes are looking. Fingers playing with one curl, eventually leading to caressing the side of his face. Thumb tracing over one of his cheekbones.

"You're so handsome, Bri."

"Ever look at yourself?"

"Do you always kiss ass?"

"Not until the 3rd date."

You slap his arm, laughing.

"I guess with that comment I won't give you a kiss goodnight."

His face contorts in fake hurt. It's wiped off as soon as you bring your lips to his, fingers gently caressing his jaw as you kiss him. Almost as fast as it happened, it stopped. Smiles painting both your faces.

"Goodnight Y/N."

"Goodnight Bri."

Turning back around, you scoot closer to him. Arms around your waist and face tucked near your shoulder, you two fall asleep.

*** You wake up before him. His arms are still wrapped around your middle and your legs entangled with one anothers. Your bladder urging you out of the warm confines of your bed, you carefully move out of his grasp to not awake him. Mission was successful as you close the door behind you, hearing Freddie in the kitchen as you walk to the bathroom. After giving yourself a pep talk while washing you hands, you face your roommate, face giving you a smirk.

"Y/N....I saw his god awful shoes by the door but he wasn't on the couch. Please tell me the details, darling!"

"Nothing really happened, Fred! We ended up talking after you went to bed and he sort of told me he had feelings for me and we passed out on the couch."

"He finally told you? About fucking time! You have no idea how much Roger got on his case. Even Deaky was begging him to shut up and ask you out. 'Oh how is Y/N doing? Is she free sometime soon, Fred? What should I get her for Christmas? What does she like? Do you think she likes me?'....every practice Y/N..every practice."

"At least I finally got around to it, Freddie."

He wrapped his arms around you, voice heavy with sleep.

"Now I get to annoy you about her even more now that we're dating."

Brian kisses your neck as Freddie pinches the bridge of his nose.

"Please don't subject us to that. We've suffered enough, dear."

***

aaaay, it’s done! Tbh, I got the idea for this fic after looking through some of my life drawing sketches. Also, a tip with charcoal or chalk pastel drawings from an art student...use hair spray. It’s cheaper than fixitive spray, works just as well, doesn’t affect the colors in chalk pastels, and doesn’t harm your lungs with the fumes (not nearly as badly, anyway). Besides that, thank you so much for reading, liking, reblogging, etc 💖💖

#queen #queen band #queen fanfiction #brian may imagine #brian may fanfiction #brian may x reader

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missturtleduck · 4 years ago

Note

Fake dating anon-I think it would be cool if it wasn’t a modern au? But thank you!!!!

Sorry for your wait, anon! I hope you like what I wrote for you <3

Fake It Till You Make It

Sokka x Reader - FakeDating!Trope

Needless to say, Y/N was slightly shocked by Sokka’s proposition.

By the age of sixteen, they had been crucial pai sho tiles in the gambit against the once Fire Lord Ozai. Returning home was odd for many reasons, but notably the reminders that they were still children really, or at least in the eyes of their families. It was Zuko who had suggested a gang trip – a joint life changing field trip – after the nations settled down from Ozai’s defeat.

The first to return home was Y/N. Her mother lived in Fire Fountain City. It was only a short journey away from the capital, and Hakoda had already travelled to see his children at the palace. Sure, she had joked about pushing off her mother’s insistent affection, but she definitely cried a little bit when she got to hug her mum, and even more when her brothers piled on too. Ever the monarchist, Zuko was welcomed into the house with open arms and plenty of celebration. Toph especially got on with her family, rough-housing with Y/N’s brothers like it was nothing.

Since Toph didn’t want to see her parents as of yet, the only family member left to visit was Sokka and Katara’s Gran Gran since Suki’s family were doing work in the Fire Nation anyway. It took some convincing for Toph to put on snow boots – “I’ll risk frostbite if it means seeing, Katara!” – but soon they were travelling all the way to the South Pole. It was on their stop at Kyoshi Island that Sokka had approached Y/N.

“I need you to pretend to be my girlfriend.”

Y/N barked out an incredulous laugh. “Tui and La, what?”

“Exactly what I said,” Sokka nodded, face solemn. “Katara wrote to Gran Gran a couple of times and mentioned Yue and Suki, but you know how that ended.”

“One turned into the moon and the other is a raging Sapphic in a relationship with Ty Lee.”

“Exactly!” He looked distressed, throwing his hands in the air. “And Gran Gran sent a letter back saying how excited she was to meet my girlfriend!”

Frowning in confusion, Y/N looked at him. “You could just tell her what happened.”

“But, Y/N, she was so excited!” He simpered the way a child would, and Y/N couldn’t help but laugh. “Obviously, we’re just friends, but would you do this?”

Ouch. Sure, they were ‘just friends’, but it hurt anyway. Maybe it was the terseness with how he said it, or the fact that since the war had ended all Y/N could think about is how pretty Sokka looked when he could finally relax. Whatever it was, it stung in her chest, panging with the intensity of heartburn. Heartburn seemed a fitting enough description regardless of its denotation.

So that was how she ended up fake dating Sokka, all for the sake of his ego and his gran gran’s happiness. As they travelled over the ocean on Appa’s back, he was as physically far from her as he could possibly be. Ouch, again. For a fake boyfriend, he was doing a crappy job at it. Staring daggers at the back of his head, Y/N sulked quite contently next to Zuko, who seemed to be comfortable with her mood – something about being friends with far grumpier girls. That had made her laugh.

Her laugh had made Sokka stare.

The sharpness to her gaze melted almost immediately when she saw the concern etched on his face. Instead, she beamed at him. Sokka grinned back, turning away to continue his conversation with Suki.

Y/N could feel Zuko’s gaze on her. “I swear to the spirits, Zuko, if you say that’s rough, buddy, I’ll chi block you.”

The crown prince was kind enough to stifle his laughter, though it seemed contagious. Her frown shifted into a small smile and she took to staring over the edge of Appa’s saddle at the canvas of blue beneath them. There was something tranquil about the polar water, the great water beasts breaching the waves only to dive back down into the impossible depths. Being from the Fire Nation, Y/N had never experienced such wonder in a single image – nor such freezing weather. Pulling furs over herself, she readied herself for what would happen on the ice.

Gran Gran looked to be the loveliest but scariest woman she would ever meet. The woman stood as the leader of the tribe; a gaggle of children stood behind her in uncertainty. However, as soon as Sokka hopped off Appa’s back, they were screaming and charging past her to tackle him to the ground. Her heart warmed as they hugged him and cried, shouting at him for leaving them without a warrior in the village.

“What are you seal pups on about?” He snorted, trying to avoid being winded by tiny elbows. “I trained you better than this.”

“That’s enough of that.”

At the woman’s words, the children picked themselves up, leaving Sokka in the snow. He didn’t last long though as he and Katara took their turn in charging. Embracing their grandmother with the tightest hug Y/N had ever seen, she left them to their moment, opting to instead help Toph down from their trusty steed.

“I hate this,” Toph muttered, holding both Zuko and Y/N’s arms in her own death grip.

“I know,” Y/N said softly, “But you’ll be able to take those boots off once we get inside one of the igloos.”

“And this must be Y/N.”

With wide eyes, she pried herself from Toph, trusting Zuko to make sure she didn’t cause any avalanches. Stepping to Sokka’s side, Y/N tried not to startle as he wrapped his arm around her hip. “Sokka, let me meet your grandmother before you steal me away!”

She felt smug satisfaction at how he flushed.

“Let me look at you, dear,” The matriarch ordered, though not unkindly. Presenting herself in the woman, she brushed off the scrutinous stare with a smile. “You’re very beautiful.”

“Thank you, erm- “

“Please,” She beamed, and all Y/N could see was the saccharine threat that Katara often fronted, “Call me Gran Gran.”

As the woman turned away, she swatted Sokka’s arm, meeting his gaze with a scowl. Stalking past him through the snow – which was harder than she had assumed – Y/N was followed by a curious flock of children tugging on her sleeves. Patient as a saint, she laughed with them, answering all of their burning questions.

Why is your hair like that? Why are your clothes red? Is that the same scary man who attacked our village? But he doesn’t look scary. Why is Sokka smiling at you?

Whipping her head around, Y/N met Sokka’s eyes. He was grinning like a dope, chin rested on his palm as Katara talked Gran Gran’s ear off. Somehow, he hadn’t realised that she had caught him staring, but the children soon fixed that; a snowball to the face promptly brought him out of his stupor. Had he hit his head on the way down from Appa? Whatever it was, it made her heart hurt and she had promised Toph a warm igloo anyway.

The sun was beginning to set behind the glaciated mountains on the horizon, illuminating the village in the evening light, dappling the ice with sunspots. She had never seen something so beautiful before, but as the sun disappeared, so did the warmth; the igloo more than made up for it.

As she sat with Zuko, Suki, and Toph – Sokka and Katara obviously busy whilst Aang promised the children some airbending games – Y/N grumbled to herself. Not only was she playing fake girlfriend, but fake girlfriend who was hated by the family. Well, it probably wasn’t hate. She wouldn’t blame Gran Gran for being protective over one of her two grandchildren. In fact, thinking of how her brothers reacted to Sokka, maybe she had it good.

Laid flat on her back, she listened to the gossip of the Fire Nation, of how Ty Lee was doing, and how Toph was seeing some weird stuff under the ice. Whatever it was, it couldn’t spike her interest enough to join in the conversation.

“Y/N?”She barely turned her head to see an anxious looking Sokka in the doorway.

“Yes?”

He looked around the room at all the faces and fidgeted. “About earlier- “

“Listen, I don’t care, okay, Sokka?” She said, trying her hardest to not seem entirely mean, nor upset; Toph scoffed, muttering something that sounded like liar.

“Just,” He sighed, “Can we talk outside?”

Pulling furs back over herself, she looked pleadingly at her friends to rescue her, but to no avail. Trudging after Sokka, she was growing more and more vexed as they moved further from the village and into the cold. The moon began to rise in the sky, glossing the ice with an ethereal glow, which was perhaps the only nice part about being out in the bitter cold.

“What, Sokka?” Y/N finally huffed, putting her foot down. “Am I not being a convincing enough girlfriend for you?”

“It’s not that Y/N,” Sokka started, waving his hands in a panicked motion as if warning off a polar dog.

“Then what?” She interrupted, not having any of it. “Did you want me to hold your hand? Maybe give you a cuddle?”

He flinched at the venom in her tone. “No, Y/N, if you’d just- “

“Just what?” Y/N snapped. “What you asked of me what really inconsiderate,

Sokka, but I did it anyway because I'm your friend – just your friend.”

“Spirits, Y/N,” He sighed, realisation passing behind his eyes.

“But it’s fine! I’m a great actress, Sokka, because I wouldn’t be acting. See? I can hold your hand, hug you, even kiss you if you needed it, but it hurts me.”

Looking down at the ice, Sokka kicked some snow under his boot, looking very ashamed of himself for a second. It pierced through her anger in a way that was unfair. Instead of dealing a final blow, all she could think to do was grab his hand and comfort him. Yes, she still felt she was in the right, but Y/N didn’t want one of her closest friends to suffer at her hand, retribution or no.

“Gran Gran shouted at me, y’know,” Sokka said, a small smile quirking at his lips as his eyes fell on his hand in hers.

Y/N frowned. “Why?”

“For thinking she was a ‘dumb old lady’ apparently,” He chuckled, meeting her eyes. “It seemed Aang had let slip that we weren’t actually dating, so she told me off for that.”

“You deserved that,” She grin, bumping his shoulder.

“And then she called me dumb, which I didn’t appreciate.”

His smile said otherwise, so Y/N pushed. “What did you do now?”

“Try to fake something I actually wanted.”

Shocked, Y/N dropped his hand, and for a moment his heart fell heavy in his chest. This was the perfect chance to be with her, he thought, now that the war was over and she knew her family was safe. Now they had autonomy, surely they could focus on each other.

“Y/N, I’m so- “

His apology was cut off by an insistent pair of lips, begging him to be quiet and just enjoy their moment. Deepening the kiss, she looped her arms around the back of his neck, the scruff of his unshaven hair brushing against her arms. His heart was soaring, hers no longer burning but glowing. She pulled back and reaching up to his face, Y/N felt the warmth of his cheek in the bitter cold, radiating warmer than the sun. Whatever light had been taken by the night was captured in them.

“Gran Gran likes you by the way,” Sokka said quietly, leaning his forehead against hers. “Says you wrangle those kids better than I do.”

“Praise Agni,” Y/N gasped, letting out a bated breath she hadn’t realised was stuck. “She does the same scary face Katara does.”

Sokka chucked, rubbing his nose against hers. “Don’t you worry, Y/N. Me and Dad are just as scared by it.”

With a giggle, she rested her head in the crook of his neck, basking in their embrace for as long as she could.

#atla #fic request #sokka x reader #fake dating #sokka x f!reader #zuko #toph #aang #katara #suki #the gaang #gran gran #fake it till you make it #anon request #angst #happy ending #missturtleduck

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jalaluvsu · 4 years ago

Text

Interference

https://beautiful-disasters-sunshine.tumblr.com/post/631749044177403904/what-if-marinette-was-tims-little-sister-who-was

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

“Y’know, just ‘cause Kori’s got a baby coming doesn’t mean you can boss us around Robin,” Beastboy whined as he stepped out of the Zeta Tube.

He scoffed at the notion, “That’s literally exactly what I can and will do, you absolute buffoon.”

“Oh, shutup.”

He sighed. There isn’t ever a moment where Garfield doesn’t wish Starfire still led the Titans. The past three weeks have gone by at an agonizingly slow pace, filled with never ending fights between him and Damian. And! Before you get the wrong impression, no, he did not start these fights. In fact, he was practically the one getting attacked!

Really, what’d you expect him to do when Damian insulted tofu during dinner at the Waynes’? Smile and wave?

Laughable.

Garfield will tell you what happened after, whether he’s proud is a matter of who asks. Let’s just say Alfred’s put him on a month-long ban from the dining room at the manor; worth it, nonetheless.

“Beastboy, earth to Beastboy,” He heard Raven chant over comms. Oh, right, the mission.

“Reporting for duty!” he saluted obediently, like the responsible hero he is.

“Stop standing there and you know, actually read the coordinates I sent to your navigator,” he grinned at her snark as he pulled out his compact. A hefty amount of unchecked notifications was in its wake.

Automated message coupons from the local pizza place at Jump City (hell yeah!)

Missed calls from Terra, he faltered at the offending contact; as if he would respond. The time for that has passed, long passed.

He scrolled down the small screen as he flitted his gaze past the hundreds of junk mail. Ah, and lastly, one lengthy preview of information regarding the mission. The text listed an address along with...enrollment details? Huh.

Garfield glanced both ways before crossing the busy street; him previously being in the too-bright alleyway.

Okay, see, he knows what you’re thinking. Someone like him- or rather someone who looked like him, would stick out like a sore thumb. Especially in a place like Paris. How common were metahumans here? Probably not as high as the rate in Metropolis, that’s for sure.

There were only so many green colored people, and a good ninety-nine percent was or is associated with heroes (vigilantes, fine) or even aliens. That being said, he was keeping it on the down-low. In Paris, he wasn’t the cool, collected, and most desired by all Garfield Logan. In Paris, he was just Grant Roth. What? It’s a good cover! And he was planning on taking Raven’s surname eventually anyways. (wink wink, nudge nudge)

A few spells and enchantments via Magical Goth Gf ™ prior to his ride in the tubes later; he practically looked uncanny to his appearance before the whole ‘failed experiment injection’ thing. You know, a mop of auburn hair, pale as paper skin, and cutesy little freckles (Blue Beetle’s words, not his) (Okay, maybe it was his too..)

Garfield pulled out his pocketed compact once he safely made it across the street. Now that he gave more than a glance at the address it looked...short. In fact, it was vague, extremely vague. He discreetly looked around for any eavesdroppers and lowered his voice to a whisper as he walked down the 21st arrondissement.

“Uh, guys? Where exactly am I supposed to go?”

He hated not knowing how to do something he was expected to, incredibly so.

“I was hoping you’d dispose of your body there,” he paused, "but since you asked so nicely, we’ll tell you.” Robin chimed in matter-of-factly.

Garfield could practically feel the next set of words. He didn’t know what they were, but they were going to suck. He just knew it.

Raven took a long swig of coffee before announcing the dreaded news, “We’ve signed you up for a foreign exchange student program,”

Ah,

“You what?!” he shrieked. A couple of onlookers gave him dirty glances, he smiled sheepishly.

Blue Beetle toggled his audio, “C’mon Gar-“ Robin interrupted,

“No names on field!”

“Shutuuuuup,” he drawled out.

“Anyways, Beastboy,’’ cue pointed glare at Robin,’’ did you really think we’d let you roam around without a leash for what? Three months? In a foreign country of all places?” Garfield could practically hear the smirk in his voice, the fucker.

“I was hoping, yeah!” Damn. He thought he would get away with them actually trusting him here alone, wishful thinking on his part.

He pouted at the idea as he scouted for a place to lounge in.

Raven huffed, “You’ll be living with a host family during your stay at Paris, if it wasn’t clear enough already.”

He froze; what other surprises were up their sleeves?!

“C’mon, be real for a sec. I’m a superhero, I don’t need to go to public school, I don’t need a couple of strangers!” he stressed as he weaved between crowds of Parisians.

Ooh, a bench. He sat with the intent of winning this argument, no matter the consequence. So what if he looked crazy, supposedly talking to himself? Priorities people, priorities.

“Doom Patrol’s strict orders, you know, ‘cause they can’t homeschool you a whole continent away,” Jamie deadpanned.

Garfield dragged a hand down his face. Stupid Doom Patrol, stupid worrying for his wellbeing. “But- it’s a mission!” he gestured rapidly, in clear exasperation.

Jaime tsked, “And? Gotta keep that brain of yours in tip-top shape, amigo!”

“Whatever, man;” he got up to dust himself off, “still don’t know how that’s related to the address on the Seine but- “

“They live there, your host family,” Raven supplied.

Garfield scratched his chin in wonder. Who lives in a body of water? That’s so- Wait. His friends were totally holding out on him!

“You guys didn’t tell me I’d be staying with Aquaman! That makes this ten times better!”

What were the chances that the man himself was in Paris too? They can bond over sea creatures, and Garfield could show him his animal transformations! This mission wasn’t so bad, it wasn’t bad at all. He had an extra skip in his step as he pranced down the pavement.

“Are you entirely brain dead?” Robin audibly face palmed,

”No, you’re not- you know what? Yes, you’re going to be living with Aquaman. At a river. In France,” quiet murmurs along the lines of ‘idiot, and ‘cómo adorable,’ sounded out from his remaining teammates.

“This is gonna be so awesome!” Garfield exclaimed giddily.

He spotted a boulangerie-pâtisserie a couple blocks away. Aha! Time to get him some sweet, sweet, treats. And hopefully, some directions.

“Robin spent weeks doing full analysis on the whole family,” Jaime grinned over the comm.

Raven cut in, “Even though it was incredibly self-destructive, “

Analysis? On the King of Atlantis? Boy, no one was safe from Damian’s wrath.

“Awww. You do care, Robin!” he cooed as he entered the bakery.

Robin gasped, affronted, “Don’t flatter yourself! I needed to make sure you wouldn’t feel obligated to blabber all our secrets, obviously.”

“Better than nothing, I suppose,” Garfield shrugged to himself, but quickly zipped his lips shut once someone came into view.

“The Couffaines are...adequate at best;” he quieted, “well, at least from what I could infer before I was so viciously torn away from my research!” was sniffed hotly.

Couffaines? Was that a code name?

“If I didn’t know any better Robin,” Jaime mused, “I’d think you were taking after Tim, especially with how many late nights you’ve had...”

A beat.

Garfield ignored the squabble taking place in his left ear, opting to chat with the kind looking, lady at the register.

“Hello! What can I do for-“ she looked up from tying her apron,

“Oh! You must be new here; I don’t recognize you,”

Garfield offered his hand, “Hah, yeah! I was just walkin’ around town. I’m Grant, by the way,’’ he silently praised himself for remembering his alias.

She shook it firmly, “Sabine.”

A warm smile was sent his way before she gestured to the variety of sweets on display. His mouth watered at the sight and contemplated his choices, no matter how hard it was. ‘’What would you recommend?’’ he whispered, completely in awe.

Sabine paused to give him a once-over before lighting up. ‘’Well, you don’t strike me as a tart kind of guy so, how do you feel about chocolate?’’

‘’Love it.’’

‘’Great! My husband just put out some fresh Pain Au Chocolates before you came in!’’ Score. His luck hadn’t completely run out.

‘’That sounds fire! I’ll have that,’’ he exclaimed cheerfully.

She blinked at his wording, ‘’Pardon?’’

What? Did she not unders- Oh.‘’Sorry, American slang. It means cool!’’ he rushed out.

She mulled it over, ‘’Ah, okay. Well, coming right up!’’ Sabine opened the glass in search of the Pain Au Chocolates.

“Don’t ever compare me to that insufferable fool, -“

He snickered, “Your brother?”

Robin fumed, “-you complete and utter nincompoop!”

“Now, now, don’t use big boy words on me,” Jaime taunted.

“I’ll show you ‘big boy’ words-! “

Garfield faux scratched his ear in favor of switching off the comm as he watched Sabine bag the treats. He grinned in thanks once handed to him.

“If that’ll be all...?” She trailed off.

He wasn’t really paying any mind as he took a big whiff of the sweets. His thoughts floated over to a haven filled with a never-ending overflow of pastries. Ah, what’s stopping him from staying here forever? A pat on his shoulder, apparently.

“Hm?” Garfield found the petite baker leaning over the counter with a patient smile.

“Sorry, I totally zoned out! Did you say something?” he rubbed his neck bashfully.

She chuckled, “I asked if there’s anything else I could do for you, sweetie.”

If there anything else she could- Right! Yes, he needed to know where the hell he was staying at. Garfield fumbled for his phone, luckily for him he copied the address into his Notes app.

“Yeah actually! Well, not food wise but, I’m here in Paris for,” he blanched momentarily, “uh, an exchange program; and I have a like host family here, right?” he gestured to his voice; the American accent evident.

She nodded.

He continued, “And I don’t really uh, like, know exactly where I’m supposed to meet them. I was wondering if you by chance knew someone who lived on the Seine around here?” Garfield shoveled a croissant into his mouth.

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

Marinette was a lot of things.

To some she was the sweet bakers’ daughter, insanely witty and clever, granted a bit scatterbrained, but she was your trophy student by all means of the word; to others though, she was someone to be wary of. A classmate’s spew of lies crawling under their skins, itching to be taken into account. Every move watched meticulously, waiting with bated breath for a slip up, for anything to grasp on to.

In simpler terms, Marinette was over it. Over being unable to speak her truth; over being villainized, constantly put under a spotlight. There was already enough on her plate, one of its regulars accumulating to a steadily-rising designer. One of her biggest flexes, if she was being honest; because really, what fourteen year old could say they constructed glasses for the Jagged Stone? Surely not the average bunch.

Oh, and did she mention superheroine? Yeah, she’s a superheroine.

The whole gig was shoved at her face, three months shy of her thirteenth birthday; and by gig she meant a brief guide, a blindingly red polka-dotted suit, a questionable choice of weapon (seriously, a yo-yo?), and an ill-timed partner.

Nonetheless, she worked with what she got. It's kept her alive so far already, why complain now?

She rubbed her eyes with a stifled yawn, ‘’Radiant....Carefree....Dreamy…’’

Marinette slammed the snooze button at the sound of that god forsaken jingle. Christ, she needed to change her alarm. All it did was make her reminisce of her former crush on Adrien Agreste; top teen Parisian model, son of fashion mogul Gabriel Agreste, and current boyfriend of future Olympiad, Kagami Tsurugi. Alas, old habits die hard, and this one was going to crash and burn any time soon; Marinette was sure of it.

A groan sounded out as she flopped to the floor, skillfully ignoring the tinkling laughter coming from her bedside. Ah, who was she kidding? It’d take some sort of absolute miracle to get over him completely. She would end up forever lonely, pining over a taken man, indefinitely getting dropped from position as lead designer for Jagged, friendless, Akumatized, disowned by her parents-

“None of those things are true, and you know it!”

She snapped her gaze up to the floating embodiment of creation, Tikki. Had her friend really thought that, that look could get Marinette to take back her spiel? She looked like an angry kitten for crying out loud!

Her cheeks reddened as she got up and dusted herself off, “Did I say that out loud?”

Judging by the narrowing of the tiny god's eyes, she’d say yes, it was said out loud. Damn, she was not looking forward to a morning lecture about her declining self esteem and her tendency of speaking her mind. Before Tikki could get even a word in, the Just In Case™ alarm for bad mornings went off. She shot the kwami a rueful grin and scurried over to the counter.

“Radian-“ the clock was chucked out of the three story building. Marinette watched from her window as it plummeted to its demise, in a heap of cheap metal and wires. Lovely.

A red blur zoomed to the front of her face, making her go cross-eyed, ‘’Marinette!’’ Tikki frowned shakily, struggling not to smile at her antics.

She shrugged and skipped over to her closet, in search for acceptable clothes,

‘’What? It was getting annoying! And besides, it’s not like it was worth that mu-!’’ They both froze at the pounding of the trap door.

Ugh, couldn’t they wait to bother her later?

‘‘You better get out of there soon, young lady! I don’t want another call from your school added to the list,’‘ Marinette was going to absolutely combust. It sucked enough that barely any of her ‘‘friends’’ stuck around, but Tom and Sabine? Really? Believing some complete stranger over her? It must be the lack of familial relation that makes it sting a bit less. It must.

She groaned tiredly, ‘’Yes, Sabine.’’

Once the descending pattering of her footsteps quieted, Tikki raced over to latch onto Marinette’s cheek. Her bluebell orbs peered up at her, filled with sympathy for her holder. She shook her head at the silent offer to talk; there’s no time for a pity party.

The kwami sighed sadly, before pecking her cheek and floating over to rest on her shoulder. Marinette plastered on an encouraging smile, ‘‘C’mon Tikks’, help me pick out and outfit for today! You know how indecisive I can be,”

After some thinking, they’ve come to the mutual decision of something completely out of Marinette’s alley. Instead of her usual pink capris, floral shirt, blazer, flats, and pigtails; she sported a plaid pleated skirt, a tucked in Queen Bee graphic tee, black two-inch heart buckled platform Mary Janes, and spacebuns. Who knew her wardrobe from Clara Nightingale’s on-set music video would come to use?

She ogled her reflection with a satisfied smirk, yeah, she was hot.

‘’Holy shit, Tikki, if I was still into Adrien,’’ she whistled, ‘’he’d drop to the floor as soon as he saw this; and that’s coming from me!’’

The kwami shook her head good naturedly, ‘’I’m glad you think so. I really like confident Marinette!’’ she nudged her shoulder, ‘’Although, I hope you aren’t doing this for your classmates’ approval...’’

She directed her gaze at Tikki; an other person’s approval? Why would she do something for another person’s approv- Oh. She actually wasn’t that far off.

‘‘Pssh. No, I would never! This is all me baby! The awesome, cool, and Pinterest board version, I mean,’‘ Marinette gave her little friend finger-guns and grabbed her purse. Enough about her, they needed to get to school before she was late again.

‘‘Get in Tikks’, if we wait any longer I’ll be,’‘ she checked the time on her phone, ‘‘like five minutes late to homeroom!’‘

She flitted into the bag as Marinette settled it onto her side. With one last look-over, she was off.

To say she struggled down the stairs was a complete and utter understatement. She almost died, multiple times. Maybe the platform shoes were a bad idea, a very, very, very bad idea. Marinette clutched onto the railing with an inhumane grip that could rival Alya’s on her phone; and that was telling you something.

Once she made it passed the death trap, or rather simply a few steps, she grabbed an espresso and a handful of cookies; the former being for her, and the latter for Tikki. She gave a fleeting wave to Sabine and Tom, not that they gave any mind.

She pulled out her phone, 8:26, she could work with that. Her phone buzzed with a text notification.

(っ◔◡◔)っ ♥ 𝖈𝖍𝖑𝖔𝖊 𝖇𝖔𝖚𝖇𝖎𝖙𝖈𝖍 ♥ ɴᴏᴡ

where the fuck are you

Marinette snorted and slid the cookies into her purse. She unlocked the screen and tapped the message icon.

{𝟖:𝟐𝟕} .•°¤*(¯`★´¯)*¤° 🎀 𝓃𝑒𝓉𝓉𝒾𝑒 🎀 °¤*)¯´★`¯(*¤°•.

wouldnt you like to know weather boy

{𝟖:𝟐𝟪} (っ◔◡◔)っ ♥ 𝖈𝖍𝖑𝖔𝖊 𝖇𝖔𝖚𝖇𝖎𝖙𝖈𝖍 ♥

wow ur so funny im literally laughing so hard rn 😐

{𝟖:𝟐8} .•°¤*(¯`★´¯)*¤° 🎀 𝓃𝑒𝓉𝓉𝒾𝑒 🎀 °¤*)¯´★`¯(*¤°•.

thank you, thank you, im here all night 🖤

Marinette looked both ways before crossing the intersection, Dupont just about a block away. She chugged her now-cold coffee and tossed it in the recycling bin, ‘’Score! And the crowd goes wil-!’’ the atmosphere suddenly stilted.

‘‘Dupain-Cheng,’‘ she swiveled around, and was met with the putrid swamp green slits shes grown to despise.

A snarl rolled off her tongue, ‘’Rossi.’’

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

omg guys so hi. im doing this. im actually doing the thing i said i would do here cuz im a bad bitch. 3k words i think. sorry for any mistakes i literally wrote this while watching pbs kids LMAOOOASODFWOEB @beautiful-disasters-sunshine idk if u still wanna be tagged when i do this kinda stuff but pm me if u dont <3

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bre-meister · 4 years ago

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9 &/or 10 (Dialogue Prompts) for cleon !! TY FOR FEEDING US

9. “I just wish things could have turned out differently between us, you know?”

Mall trips were always...interesting. Perhaps it stems from the insanity that was his everyday life, but Leon always felt that doing things so mundane like going to the mall was kind of weird? But, weird in a good way. He wasn’t sure exactly how to describe it. D.S.O Agent Leon Kennedy wasn’t sure exactly how to feel about it as he stood surrounded by little tiny onesies and itty bitty tutus and headbands; cribs, strollers, changing tables, and more displayed on top of the shelves reaching up towards the high ceilings of the store. Well, that’s a lie, Leon did know how he felt - awkward, out of place even.

He wasn’t exactly sure why that was the case, especially considering this wasn’t his first rodeo so to speak. Though, last time Claire had done most of the shopping for the smaller things. His preparatory skills were mostly limited to ordering the bigger things online once Claire had picked them out and then assembling them after they had arrived.

When his wife had asked him to come along this time - mainly to help wrangle little Izzy who had insisted on helping pick out clothes for her new little sister - Leon couldn’t say no. He had nothing else to do on an unnaturally normal Saturday and spending the day with his family sounded like heaven after spending the week doing paperwork. He just hadn’t anticipated the sheer amount of things they actually needed to get. Technically speaking, they should have all of the said items at home from when Isabelle had been little - and they did have some. Some of her baby things had been lost in a move a while back - a two-bedroom apartment in the heart of D.C was great for him and Claire but not necessarily for a little girl. The couple had also given away some things to one of Claire’s co-workers who had needed some baby clothes and such. They truly had not expected to have another child, what with their hectic lifestyle but Leon would be lying if he said he wasn’t extremely excited for the new baby.

So, things having been lost one way or another, they had to replace almost everything; which was fine considering Leon’s paycheck alone was enough for them to live fairly comfortably. Chris was always making snide comments about his “government money”, he might as well put it to good use. Which is how the small family found themselves in the non-descript baby store on an even less notable Saturday afternoon. But, despite coming in with two girls, Leon now found himself alone hence the unnecessarily awkward feelings. Claire and Isabell had stepped out for a short moment to find a bathroom, his pregnant wife needing to go nearly just as bad as their four-year-old.

“Leon?” a voice called from the doorway of the store that leads out to the mall.

Leon looked up confused, that was the direction that his wife and daughter had disappeared to but that voice sounded nothing like Claire’s. Upon laying eyes on the source of the noise Leon felt his confusion shift to something else.

He hadn’t thought he could feel more awkward but somehow, he managed. Calling his name was a living ghost. Leon didn’t have much time to consider that oxymoron before the blast from his past in the form of an objectively beautiful woman entered the store and made her way towards him.

“Oh my gosh! It is you - Leon Kennedy. What’s it been, like five, six years?”

“Yeah,” Leon swallowed awkwardly, “something like that.” If he remembered correctly, it had been much longer than that.

As if coming to his senses, Leon suddenly realized how rude he was being - a former fling or not, Claire would have scolded him if she saw the way he was behaving now. He chuckled awkwardly to cover up how...awkward he was feeling. Quietly, Leon wished he could think of a word or a feeling that was not “awkward”.

“How have you been, Cindy?” He hoped she didn’t catch the upward lit of his greeting when he got to her name - he wasn’t exactly sure he’d remembered correctly.

“Oh ya know, working, shopping,” she gestured to the bags in her hands, “this and that. I’m good though, how about you?” If she noticed his hesitance at her name she didn’t let it outwardly bother her.

Leon looked around before answering, trying to see if he could spot Claire anywhere - no luck. Apparently, at this moment, Leon was two things: awkward and incredibly unlucky.

“Ya know, work, family, shopping,” he mirrored Cindy both in his statement and bodily actions. Motioning to the pack of baby bottles in his hands that he had been mulling over he hoped that Cindy would take the hint - Leon purposefully having emphasized the word family.

Yet again, if Cindy noticed she didn’t let it deter her. She placed a well-manicured hand on Leon’s bicep, gently squeezing all the while batting her eyes in what he assumed was supposed to be a sultry manner. Not many things could be taken as sultry when surrounded by pacifiers and burping cloths.

“I was genuinely surprised when I saw you, and in a baby store of all places. Never would have thought of you as the settling down kinda man. Then, I thought that you were probably just shopping for a friend or a family member, ya know like a shower gift or something. I also thought you’d might want some help, ya know, a woman’s touch. So, here I am”

At that the hand on his arm began to move up and down, those red-colored nails causing involuntary goosebumps to rise on his skin. Apparently, Cindy had been doing a lot of thinking in the last few minutes. Doing some thinking on his own, Leon came to the realization that he’d used to think he loved the color red on a woman. Now, he realizes that he loves the color red on one particular woman.

Before he could get a word in to stop whatever was happening in its tracks, Cindy started up again. Her attention had shifted to the things on the self in front of him, finally removing her hand from his arm. That didn’t mean that she wasn’t done with her not so subtle come on though.

“Sometimes I just wish things could have turned out differently between us ya know? Maybe this could have been us together, shopping for our own baby,” Cindy let out a small laugh at her own imagined scenario.

“I don’t.” He said confidently, happy that the awkward had finally made his way out of his system.

Apparently so had the unluckiness because as Cindy looked up at him, a confused frown on her face, any response she was about to formulate was cut short by a tiny body barreling into Leon’s legs.

“Daddy, Mommy and I saw the coolest candy store and she said that if I’m a good girl then we can go after we're done here! Are we done yet?” Isabelle let out, seemingly in one breath.

Leon laughed, both at his daughter's enthusiasm to curb her sweet tooth and at the look on Cindy’s face. He knew it was rude but the genuine shock was just too good to let slip and she was too wrapped up in said shock to notice.

“No baby girl, we are not done yet. Although trust me, I would much rather be in the candy store,” She looked to Leon as she approached, her next words directed towards him, “their chocolate display was pretty impressive.”

Leon wanted to laugh at his two girls. Instead, he coughed a little, nodding his head discreetly towards Cindy - an action he knew only his wife would notice.

“Oh! I’m so sorry. How rude of me, I'm Claire and you are?”

Cindy had managed to pick up her jaw from where it had fallen on the floor but still seemed to be too stunned to speak.

“Claire, this is Cindy, an old friend of mine. We haven’t seen each other in a while so when she spotted me from the window outside she came in to say hi. Cindy, this is my wife, Claire, and my daughter, Isabelle.”

Isabelle waved shyly from where she had retreated behind her daddy’s leg. Leon felt that was a little odd considering usually Izzy was a boisterous little girl who loved to talk - even to strangers. Perhaps she was tired, or maybe Cindy just rubbed her the wrong way - he’d heard kids were perceptive like that. It certainly didn’t help that Cindy’s face had been akin to a fish what with all the open-mouthed gaping when both girls had returned.

“It's wonderful to meet you, Claire.” the tone of her voice said that this meeting was anything but wonderful.

Still, Cindy held out her hand and the two politely shook. Leon couldn’t help but notice Cindy’s gaze falling on Claire’s hand returning to her noticeable bump as they pulled away. What was left of the color in her face drained and at that moment, Leon could tell that the woman made a tactical decision to save whatever was left of her dignity.

“Well, I just came in to say hi. Leon looked a little lost on his own but now that I see he is not alone I suppose I should continue on my way. I still have a few stores to hit before I can go home. Congrats, by the way.” Cindy motioned towards Claire’s midsection at her baby bump.

“Thanks,” Leon said, in unison with his wife.

Cindy turned to leave, giving one more awkward smile before she left - funny how the tables had turned in that way. Leon almost felt bad for her. It was obvious by her comment that she was still searching for the peaceful family life that he was forever grateful he’d found with Claire.

I just wish things could have turned out differently between us ya know?

That one statement carried so much weight. Leon knew that eventually, Cindy would find the one who was right for her, and together they could shop baby necessities until her heart's content. But, as for him, looking at his two girls fawn over pink and purple onesies meant for his soon-to-be girl number three, he couldn’t say he agreed. This is where he was meant to be - with them.

He knew he’d do anything for them, follow them anywhere. Even, he thought, overpriced, extravagant, mall candy stores. Although he had to admit, Claire wasn’t wrong about the chocolate display, it was pretty impressive.

#Cleon fic #Cleon #CLEON BABY #Leon Kennedy #Claire Redfield #Claire/Leon #resident evil #My writing

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king-finnigan · 4 years ago

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Ok so you know those fics where Geralts hair is damaged by a monster and Jaskier fixes it? Modern au, but Geralt still hunts monsters and lives with his platonic friend (crush) jask. One night he comes home and his hair is wrecked so jask helps him cut it but he realizes too late that the clipper doesn’t have a guard. This would 11/10 help me cope with how my sister did the same thing to me :( lol

I now have an incredibly drastic short side cut and a guilty sister. Luckily we aren’t going out so it will grow lol. I just feel like that’s something (messing up clippers) Jaskier would do.

A/n: oh noooo, I’m so sorry to hear that! I hope your hair grows back quickly! Hope this little fic helps lmao. (Also I added a bit onto the story because I have one (1) hobby and I can and will use it in my writing)

Jaskier looks up from his book when he hears the roaring of Roach’s engine outside the living room window. He can’t help the wild grin that spreads across his face, though he takes a moment to gather himself as he walks to the front door – he doesn’t really wanna show Geralt how glad he is to see him after spending the last few days on his own. After all, Geralt’s just a housemate, nothing more. Definitely not Jaskier’s crush. No, sir.

His composure falls when he swings the door open and finds his Witcher in the driveway, his hair a veritable fucking mess. He bursts out into laughter, which earns him a glare from Geralt, who pushes past him, into the house. “Don’t mention it,” he grumbles.

Jaskier closes the front door behind him, leaning against it as he watches Geralt dump his laundry by the washing machine under the stairs, his face as still as ever, the tightening of his jaw the only sign that he’s in a really bad mood. Of course, Jaskier’s never let that stop him.

“So what happened, Witcher? Run into a lawnmower?” Geralt glares at him again, and Jaskier grins. It does really look like a mess – a large chunk of hair missing from the back of his head, some loose strands hanging at random lengths around it.

He sighs, folds his arms in front of his chest. “Alright, I’ve got an idea. There’s no way that’s gonna look good for the next…” he waves his hand a bit “year or so? At least until it grows back to full length, which is gonna take a while. So, what if… I give you a new haircut?”

Geralt looks at him, narrows his amber eyes. “No.”

Jaskier scoffs, leaning his head against the door, looking up at the ceiling. He notices a spider web in the corner and makes a mental note to vacuum it up later. “Come on, Geralt. We both know your hair’s gonna look like shit if we don’t do something about it. And you know,” he shrugs, “maybe it’s time for a new look. You’ve had the same haircut for… what? Sixty years? Don’t you think it’s time for something new?”

Geralt sighs, his shoulders slumping a bit in defeat. “Fine, I’ll go to a hairdresser tomorrow.”

Jaskier scoffs, pushing himself away from the door to start loading in the washing machine. “No, you won’t. You told me you don’t want a stranger with scissors getting anywhere near you, like, a year ago. Oh, don’t give me that look, I actually listen to what my housemate says, unlike some people.”

He straightens again, slams the washing machine door shut. “Look, Witcher, I’ve got perfectly good scissors and clippers in the bathroom. I’m perfectly adept at cutting my own hair and maintaining it, so doing yours would be easy as fuck. Your options are trusting me, trusting a stranger, or looking ridiculous.” He shrugs, picking his book from the living room table, walking up the stairs as Geralt continues staring at him. “Your choice.”

---

A knock on his door startles him out of his concentration. “Yeah?” The door opens a crack, and he sees Geralt’s amber eyes peering at him. “What is it? Changed your mind?”

“Hmm.” The door closes again, and Jaskier can’t help the slow smile that spreads across his face as he closes his laptop and gets up. He finds the Witcher in the bathroom, his hair clean and slightly damp from, presumably, a shower – though still very much a mess.

“Alright, so…” He waves his hand vaguely. “Any ideas? What do you want to do with it?”

Geralt’s frown deepens, and he looks at himself in the mirror. “I don’t know.”

Jaskier sighs, purses his lips. “Alright, let me see.” He moves to stand behind Geralt, carding a hand through the soft locks, assessing the damage. “Yeah, definitely gonna have to go for an undercut, here. Or a crewcut, if that’s what you want?”

“No.”

“Okay, undercut it is.” He takes a step to the side so he can see Geralt’s face in the mirror. “Do you want the top to be, like, the same length as my hair, or like, as long as it is now?”

Geralt seems to hesitate, eyes flickering between himself and Jaskier, probably trying to imagine how he would look with hair the same length as Jaskier’s. Finally, he seems to decide, and nods once. “Long.”

Jaskier grins, pushing past Geralt to rummage in the cupboard under the sink. “Alright, please do take my desk chair from my room, master Witcher, and I’ll be with you shortly.”

He doesn’t miss Geralt’s eyeroll, though the Witcher does as he’s told, walking out of the bathroom, returning with Jaskier’s chair. Usually, he does his own hair standing up, but Geralt is an inch or two taller than him, which would make it hard to do his hair – it’s easier if Geralt sits down. Which is what the Witcher does, before Jaskier even has to ask. He grins again, and moves to stand behind Geralt, hairtie in hand. He gathers the hair at the top of Geralt’s head, tying it up in a messy bun, so he doesn’t accidentally cut it off, before he takes the heavy scissors.

“Alright, we’re gonna have to cut off the longer parts first, before I shave it.”

He sighs, taking a lock at the back of Geralt’s head, before looking up, meeting amber eyes in the mirror. “You ready?” Geralt nods, once. Snip. The lock falls to the ground, Jaskier’s eyes following it all the way down. He sighs again. “Alright, let’s continue.”

---

Before long, the back and sides of Geralt’s head are significantly shorter, and Jaskier lays down the scissors, flexing his stiff fingers a bit, before taking the clippers.

“Hmm. Maybe start with 9 and work our way down? That way we can always cut it shorter if it’s too long.”

Geralt sighs softly, rolling his eyes. “Fine. Just get it over with.”

Jaskier grins. “Don’t like clippers?”

“Too loud.”

He nods, even though he personally enjoys the buzzing of the clippers, enjoys the feeling of them scraping against his head, but hey, to each their own, he supposes. He turns them on, setting them against the back of Geralt’s head. He heaves a soft sigh, before moving the clippers up, and-

Oh, fuck.

He forgot to put the guard back on the clippers. Meaning that those 9 millimeters he planned on leaving on Geralt’s head have turned to… well, 0. He can’t hide the horror on his own face as he looks from the clippers to the bald patch he managed to create on Geralt’s head.

“What did you do?”

He looks up at Geralt’s reflection, at the amber eyes studying his face intently, a storm brewing beneath the surface.

“Jaskier, what did you do?” the Witcher repeats, and Jaskier swallows thickly.

“I, uh… Forgot the guard. And now…” He points at the back of Geralt’s head sheepishly. “No hair.”

Geralt’s jaw tightens, and a muscle starts pulling at the corner of his lips. Usually, when he looks like that, he goes outside for a few hours and comes back home with bloody knuckles and bits of bark clinging to his skin. Except today, it seems, as Geralt deflates in the chair, tension leaving his shoulders. “Fine.”

Jaskier blinks, frowns. “What?”

“I said ‘fine’. Just do the rest like that. It’ll grow back.”

Jaskier bites his trembling lip, guilt flooding him as he sets the clippers against Geralt’s head again.

---

“It’s a bowl cut.”

Jaskier frowns. “No! It’s… a very short undercut.”

“It’s a long bowl cut, Jaskier.”

He chews on the inside of his cheek, fidgeting with his fingers, as he looks at Geralt, who’s staring at his own reflection. “Okay, maybe it is, but… It’ll grow back? Eventually?” He swallows, looks away. “Geralt, I’m- I’m so sorry, I-“

“It’s fine.”

“No, it’s not, Geralt, I fucked up and I’m so s-“

“Jaskier. I said it’s fine.” The Witcher sighs, walking to the bathroom door. “I’m going to bed. Goodnight, Jaskier.” He closes the door a little bit harder than he usually does, and Jaskier flinches.

He sighs, spending the next half hour cleaning the hair from the bathroom floor and brushing it out of the clippers, guilt mulling in his head. When he’s done, he rolls the desk chair back to his own room, sitting down on it heavily. He fucked up, he really did. And there’s no way to fix it, either – Geralt will have to walk around for the next few weeks with, well… basically a bowl cut. A long bowl cut, but a bowl cut nonetheless.

He sighs, leaning his chin on his hand, trying to find some way to fix it, when his eye lands on a crochet hook in his penholder. It’s been a few years since he’s done crochet, but it can’t be that hard, right? He suddenly remembers the box of wool under his bed, and a plan forms in his head.

---

Turns out relearning crochet is hard, and he spends the entire night hunched over his work, pausing and unpausing the tutorial over and over again, clumsy fingers working even clumsier stitches. But by the time the sun rises, he’s done it. He’s managed to make a beanie for Geralt. Of course, he’s not sure if it’s gonna fit – he had to use his own head for measurements and added a few stitches to make it a bit bigger – and the colour is… questionable, but it’s there, in all its uneven and bright yellow glory.

He looks up when he hears Geralt’s door open, and sprints into the hall, nearly bumping into the Witcher’s broad chest. Geralt frowns, looks down at Jaskier’s disheveled clothes, still from the previous day, at the circles under his eyes, and scoffs. “What did you do?”

Jaskier frowns, takes a step back, because being this close to Geralt is making his heart do weird things, and hides his work behind his back. “Why do you always think I’m up to something, Geralt?”

“Because you always are.”

Jaskier nods. “Fair enough.” He sighs, chewing on his lower lip. “Look, I’m sorry for what happened yesterday, I really am. So, I uh… made this. For you.” He holds out the beanie, depositing it in Geralt’s hands, who frowns at the misshapen lump of wool.

“What is it?”

“It’s a beanie.”

“It’s yellow.”

“That’s the only wool I had left.”

“You could’ve just bought one, you know that, right?”

He sighs, rolling his eyes. In all honesty, he did forget about just buying one, but Geralt needs to learn how to appreciate a nice gesture, really. He stretches out his hand, reaching for the beanie. “Look, if you don’t want it, you can give it back.”

His eyebrows shoot up to his hairline when Geralt snatches his hands away from Jaskier’s, clutching the lump of wool against his chest. “No.”

“No, what? No, you don’t want it, or no, you’re not giving it back?”

It’s quiet for a while, amber eyes looking at his face intently. Finally: “Thank you.”

That surprises him even more. “For what? Fucking up your hair or making a shitty beanie?”

Geralt grins, a sight that leaves Jaskier slightly breathless. “For trying.”

Jaskier feels a blush creeping up his cheeks, and smiles. “Well, thank you for putting up with me trying.” Before he can think twice about it, he takes a step forward, planting a soft kiss on Geralt’s cheek. The Witcher merely looks at him wide-eyed, and regret curls in Jaskier’s stomach. He’s about to take a step back to flee back into his bedroom, when Geralt’s hand closes around his wrist, stopping him.

He can only stand there, heart in his throat, as Geralt leans forward, softly kissing him. It’s just a feather-light touch, but it’s enough to leave Jaskier breathless and desperate for more – so when Geralt moves back, Jaskier closes his hand around the back of the Witcher’s neck, pulling him closer again, deepening the kiss this time.

He does have to come up for air, eventually – and regrettably – but the sight of Geralt grinning at him makes up for the lack of kissing. He smiles softly. “You know, Witcher… that bowl cut is actually really growing on me, you sure you don’t wanna keep it that way?”

“Absolutely fucking not.”

#Anonymous #squish answers #geraskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #drabble #the witcher

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gibzy · 4 years ago

Text

hi!

I just posted my first ao3 fic, so if you wanna check it out, here it is!

(it’s a tam angst vent fic in case you were wondering bc i’ve been writing a lot of fluff and my depression was just like “hey what if... big sad????” and i did that so. yep. also it’s kam bc obviously)

also also, you can read the whole thing under the cut. ty!

The past is behind us.

That’s what he tells himself. That’s what he says every night; in his head, a desperate, useless reprieve from every other ceaseless thought; aloud, softly, into a pillow stained with tears as he aches for what could have been— what had been, before he fucked everything up.

That’s what they tell him, his wonderful, endlessly understanding friends; that he was trying to help, that he was just doing his best (but what does it matter if his best wasn’t good enough), that yes, he hurt them but he had them and they would help each other.

That’s what he hears on his worst nights, the words echoing in his mind, alien yet all too familiar, a cracking, hazy phrase in the depths of his memories, a justification of all that had been done to him, a terrible assertion that the end justifies the means.

But how could the means be justified if there’s no end? How can they act like things are finally coming together when there’s so many horrible things still happening? So many questions left unanswered?

How can he ever help them if he can’t get out of his own head?

He takes a deep, shaky breath. Stop thinking. Stop chasing yourself into the dark and just be.

The air is cold. It bites at his lungs with the same sharp edge as the shadows, but at least it doesn’t whisper to him. He knows he shouldn’t be out here, that he should be with Linh right now; he owes it to her, after all this. He loves her, his sister, his friend, his only constant in this tumultuous world, (and that’s exactly why he shouldn’t be running from her, he knows) and that’s exactly why he’s in the garden they used to stay. Alone.

The moon is high, only visible in a thin crescent that cuts through the night sky, a sliver of light against the dark expanse. Most of the flowers are dying at this point. Their wilting, fleshy petals look like ghosts in the starlight, tattered remains of the jubilant forms they possess in summer (but they will rise again, and they do not despair now).

He closes his eyes. Why did he even come here? Because he didn’t know where else to go?

But he did, he does, and he keeps thinking in circles.

Back to the neverseen, back to his parents, back to Keefe—

Keefe. The boy in the crown, the boy who laughed and spoke and lived with such light. The boy who he feels so strongly, so deeply for, who he could never tell. Not that there’s anything to tell. Tam himself can’t even tell what it is he feels for Keefe—trust, because despite all his mistakes and his flaws he tries so hard to help everyone; love, because of his kindness and his jokes and optimism (however forced it may be; perhaps he loves him more because he cares so much about his friends); hatred, because they’re so similar, because they’re both so reckless and stupidly independent (and maybe, just maybe, he hates him because if he loves him, even a little, that means he has to love himself too).

But it doesn’t matter now. He can’t tell him whatever he feels because he’s in a coma because of him. Because he did what the neverseen told him to. Because he was scared.

“I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

He smiled, resigned. “It’s okay.”

That was the worst of it, really. To have him be so forgiving. He doesn’t know why he was surprised—he knew, days before, weeks before, that Keefe would never condemn him for it. That he understood.

If he didn’t get it, it would be so much easier. He wouldn’t have that terrible, achingly sincere (sad) smile on his face when it happened, and he wouldn’t have gone through the neverseen so that he could understand.

Tam buries his head in his hands. It’s not like he killed him.

Unless—

A sob wracks his body. He’s pretty sure he started crying a while ago, but it hadn’t really set in until now.

No. No, no no no. He can’t do this. He can’t—

But what if you did kill him? What if he never wakes up because of you?

But he will wake up, he has to he has to he has to—

All you ever do is hurt people. You know they’ll never forgive you if he dies. You know you won’t forgive yourself if he dies.

We know what happens then.

He can’t tell if it’s his own mind or the shadows at this point. Probably both, given how inextricable they’ve become.

He clutches his light-leaping crystal tightly in his hand. It’s okay. It’s fine, it’ll be alright—

But he’s so, so fucking tired of this.

None of this has actually helped him. He just thinks and hates and regrets and then does it all over again—even the brief time he’s been here to escape from it all has just been a senseless, repetitive jumble of pain.

Again, and again, and again.

It’s not healthy. It’s tearing him apart. And soon enough, he’s afraid there’s only going to be shadows left.

Which he can’t let happen. He can’t do that to his friends. He can’t do that to himself.

So he holds the crystal out in front of him, its facets refracting the cold moon into something beautifully warm, and lets the light take him.

#kotlc #tam song #tam x keefe #kotlc tam #keefe sencen #kotlc keefe #kotlc kam #tam angst #vent fic

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zoryany · 5 years ago

Note

Hey! Not sure if you’re still taking request for ficlet prompts but 67 with Luke + Padmé pleaseeeee!!! ❤️

send me ficlet prompts – optionally include characters67 – My father may look like the scary one, but it’s my mother you need to be afraid of.(you sent me this SO LONG AGO and I’ve been wanting to answer it SO BADLY but lacked the inspiration until now. it kinda got away from me, ended up being more skysolo than I intended, and I accidentally created a new AU but ahh, I hope it was worth the wait!)

Gripping the controls of the speeder tight enough for his knuckles to turn white, Han Solo shifted nervously in the pilot’s seat. His passenger, looking incredible as always in his simple yet finely made black tunic and trousers, had the audacity to appear completely casual and not at all bothered. How in all the hells was Luke so calm?

Han licked his lips and furrowed his brow. Was he sweating? Why was he so nervous? He could out-shoot any bounty hunter, out-fly just about any pilot and charm the slime off a Hutt – he could do this, too. It was just meeting someone’s parents. He was good with people, so this should be no exception, right? Why should this time be any different?

Oh, right, that’s why, Han thought to himself as the Palace came into view. This time, the parents I’m meeting just so happen to be in charge of the entire kriffin’ galaxy!

He really did seem to have a particular kind of luck with his romantic interests, didn’t he?

“Relax, Han,” his companion soothed, resting a hand on his shoulder and tracing gentle circles there with his thumb. “They’re really not as scary as everyone makes out. Trust me. They don’t bite.”

“Nah, but I’ve seen what your old man is capable of,” he replied without thinking, instantly regretting it when the hand on his shoulder tensed, slightly.

“Yeah.” Han could practically feel the conflict and guilt radiating from the seat next to him, and he was ready to cut in with profuse apologies and lay himself down at the mercy of the court, but a wry laugh from Luke stopped him. “He makes a point not to do anything… to enforce the will of the Empire at home, so you should be good.”

Han didn’t miss the hesitation or the irony in those words, but Luke was smiling, at least, so he relaxed a little bit.

“Besides,” Luke continued, shrugging, “Father’s not the one you need to worry about. My father may look like the scary one, but it’s really my mother you need to be afraid of. And, well, my sister too, probably. Father’s protective, definitely a force to be reckoned with, but it’s no match for the bond between a mother and her child, or the one between twins.” A pause. Then, almost as an afterthought, “They’re also both politicians. Nothing is more dangerous than words.”

The grin on Luke’s face had taken on a wicked quality, a slight level of menace in his voice, and Han suddenly found himself sweating profusely. “Tell me again why this was a good idea?”

Bright peals of laughter filled the speeder as Luke had a good chortle at his expense. Han grumbled as the kid nudged him playfully and moved his hand to the back of Han’s neck, fingers snaking their way into his hair. “Relax. I’m just messing with you. Mostly. It’s gonna be fine. I promise. I’ve got a good feeling about this.”

Oh. That boded well.

***

As Luke approached the private entrance at the back of the palace, he had to admit to himself that he shared at least some of Han’s trepidation. Not quite to the same extent, but a hint of dread prickled at the back of his neck nonetheless.

“Look, Han, I – I know I said I had a good feeling about this. And I know I assured you everything would be fine, but…” He hesitated. While he wasn’t nearly as eloquent as his mother or sister, he was unaccustomed to being as at a loss for words as he often found himself when he was around Han. Something about this smuggler made him feel more like a farmboy than the prince he’d been raised as. Normally, he didn’t mind, but this… this was important. “My family can be a lot. And, well, we’ve only known each other a few weeks, and all. So, I mean, if you’re not ready – ”

“Hey,” Han cut in, resting a hand on Luke’s shoulder. “I know how much this means to you – how much your family means to you. You think it’s time we all meet then I trust you.” He grinned, cheekily. “Don’t go thinkin’ you can get rid of me that easily, Your Worship.”

Rolling his eyes, Luke returned Han’s grin before nudging him with his elbow. “Alright, alright. Let’s get going, then. No point in putting it off.” He could still feel a healthy level of anxiety rolling off of Han, but his good-natured ribbing and confident stride made Luke feel a bit more at ease.

At least, it did until they stepped into his family’s sitting room and saw the look Leia was giving them.

“Y’know,” she said slowly, her voice smooth and silky, “I was sure I’d seen the height of your stupidity already.” She wore a dangerous smile on her face, one Luke knew far too well, and it only grew wider when he scowled at her. “I was sure you couldn’t do anything more idiotic than the time you took Father’s speeder out for a joy ride and thought he wouldn’t notice. But I think you’ve really outdone yourself this time, well done.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

The look of delight on Leia’s face had quickly become the most accurate impression of an anooba playing with its meal before devouring it that Luke had ever seen. “Disappearing for weeks on end, leaving us nothing but a cryptic note, no hint of where you’ve gone and hardly a word from you over holocall, then showing back up here with this scruffy-looking scoundrel in tow?” Behind him, Han bristled, which really only served to feed into Leia’s amusement. “Honestly, Luke, I’m impressed. I mean it! The fit Father threw when he found out was spectacular, I haven’t seen anything like it since – well, the speeder incident, actually.”

Despite how entertained Leia seemed by all of this – and there was a vein of genuine amusement in her words – Luke could also sense her underlying worry. Nobody else would be able to detect the tension in her body, the shadow of concern in her eyes, the minute tremor in her voice… She was his twin, and he suddenly felt incredibly guilty for leaving her, even temporarily.

I’m sorry, Leia, he muttered through their bond.

Don’t you dare pull anything like that again, or I might have to strangle you.

With Han oblivious to their silent exchange, Luke decided to mirror Leia’s outward attitude as he raised a brow at her then turned to his “scruffy-looking scoundrel,” who looked like he was trying to decide whether to be terrified or irate. He ended up landing somewhere in the middle. “Han, it is my pleasure to introduce to you Her Royal Imperial Highness, Princess Leia Naberrie-Skywalker, my dear, lovely sister and twin. Leia, this is Captain Han Solo, my – ” He hesitated a moment, glancing at Han as the word caught in his throat. They never did decide what they were going to label their relationship as to his family. Han just gave him a small shrug and a short nod, prompting Luke to just pick something, for now. “He’s my companion.”

“Believe me,” Leia drawled, the delight on her face melting into a much colder, calculating look, “the pleasure is all mine.” Her eyes were piercing as she looked Han up and down, causing him to shift under her gaze. They lingered for a moment as she came to whatever conclusion she had about him before flicking them to meet Luke’s. “Mother’s expecting you in her parlour. Better not keep her waiting.”

All the warmth had left his sister’s voice, by now, but he could still feel her quiet concern. Leia sent him a silent Good luck as Luke led Han towards his mother’s chambers, a fresh knot of anxiety tying his stomach into knots as they went.

***

“Well,” the kid said quietly next to him, “that’s one down.”

Han rubbed the back of his neck, wondering if maybe he should’ve turned back when Luke gave him the chance, but tried to cling to a shred of optimism nevertheless. “If your mom’s anything like your sister, maybe I would’ve had more luck meeting your dad, first. Wasn’t expecting to get eaten alive like this.”

Luke chuckled darkly and shook his head. “No, trust me, it’s for the best that Father’s off-world until tonight. Leia’s all bark and no bite and Mother… you do have to earn her respect, but she’ll give you a fair chance to do so. Father, on the other hand…” Pausing a moment, he bit his lip while searching for the right words. “Well. You said yourself. You’ve seen what he can do.”

He knew full well how much Luke idolized his father. Pure admiration flooded his baby blues any time he brought him up, especially when he’d neglected to share with Han the little detail of his true line of work. It was unnerving, now, to see the discomfort in his face as he discussed Vader, but Han did have to admit to the relief he felt in knowing Luke’s devotion didn’t overshadow his moral code.

They reached the door to the Empress’ parlour before Han had a chance to say anything in response, so he just sighed and glanced down at Luke. “Well, I s’pose it’s now or never.”

Nodding in response, the kid gave the door two sharp raps before pushing it open and leading Han into a large, pleasantly decorated room. The floor was covered in a plush, bright crimson carpet except for directly in front of the fireplace at the far end of the room, which was lined with dark, smooth stones. Artwork lined the walls, from lavish paintings of lush worlds to intricately woven tapestries to complicated abstract works Han would never understand even if he dedicated the rest of his life to interpreting them. The room was furnished with two large, gold-trimmed sofas and a matching armchair that resembled a throne, all encircling an ornate golden table. Han felt entirely out of place, surrounded by this much luxury; even Luke didn’t look quite at home in his surroundings.

The woman before them, however, matched the decor perfectly. Dressed in a flowing, deep blue gown and a sheer, silvery cape, with a golden circlet perched atop the chestnut curls that cascaded past her shoulders and down her back, she stood regally in the centre of the room, awaiting their approach. Trying to keep himself from staring, Han fell into a kneeling position next to Luke, who was the picture of contrition.

“Mother. I have returned home, and I beg your forgiveness for my unannounced absence.”

Having spent the first several weeks of their relationship unaware of his royal status, Han had never imagined Luke’s voice could sound so regal. It sure was a far cry from the naive, chattering kid who’d struck up conversation with him in a run-down shipyard on Ord Mantell. He had to admit, the change was a little spooky.

A few moments passed, feeling like hours, considering how nervous he was, but it wasn’t long before the woman strode forward and wrapped her arms around Luke, pulling him up. “Luke!” she breathed, pulling him into an embrace. Han suddenly felt like he was intruding on something very private. “My son, it’s so good to have you home.” She pulled out of the hug and gripped his shoulders, a stern look etched in her features. “Don’t you ever do anything like that again! If something had happened to you – What in the stars possessed you to do something so rash?”

Luke never did tell Han why he’d run in the first place. Sure, he’d asked, but the kid would get evasive every time he did so eventually he dropped the subject. Under his mother’s gaze, now, it was a lot more difficult to dodge the question, but Luke still seemed determined to do so.

“Oh, sweetheart,” the Empress sighed, brushing her fingers through his hair. “We can discuss this later, when your father returns.” Luke stiffened but bowed his head in acknowledgement. “Now! Are you going to introduce me to your guest, or were you planning on leaving him to kneel at our feet all day?”

Han’s head snapped up and he met Luke’s eyes, who nodded at him to rise. “Mother, this is Captain Han Solo of The Millennium Falcon. I’ve spent the last several weeks in his company, and the two of us have grown… close.”

He could practically feel the kid’s cheeks flush at his own choice of words. Thankfully, the Empress herself appeared to be plenty amused, and she offered Han a brilliant smile that left him somewhat weak in the knees. He could see what Luke meant about her being the dangerous one. There was something so very disarming about this woman and her charm, and he’d met enough charming women to know to be on his guard.

“Truly, I’m charmed, Captain,” she said, voice ringing like a bell as she slipped into formality. “Luke has a gift for befriending the most… fascinating of people.” After offering him another bright smile, she turned to face her son. “Luke, go prepare the guest room, please? If he’s to be staying with us, he’ll need proper accommodations.”

“Oh, that’s really not necessary, Majesty,” Han sputtered, “I got my ship, and – ”

“Nonsense!” The word was light and pleasant, but she somehow infused enough authority into it that he knew there was no point in arguing. “As a friend of my son’s, you are welcome in our home.”

Han was sure they had servants or droids who could set up the bedroom, and even if they didn’t, he was more than capable of doing it himself. He didn’t see why she was sending the Prince to do it. “Well, alright, if you insist, but Luke doesn’t have to set up for me, I’m happy to get it myself.”

“No, no, you are our guest, and we your hosts.” Her deep eyes glimmered with something dangerous. “My son has brought you here, and it is proper etiquette for him to see to your comfort here. Luke? If you will?”

Luke wore a somewhat confused expression that he turned from his mother to Han, but his hesitation was brief as he bowed slightly and muttered “Yes, Mother,” before he set off towards the parlour door.

Turning to follow, Han was frozen in place by a sharp tut from the Empress. “Not yet, Captain Solo. Sit. Relax. I’ll have some tea brought, and you and I can get acquainted.”

From the doorway, Luke shot an alarmed glance in their direction and looked, for a second, as though he was about to protest and insist on staying, but his mother’s expression brooked no argument. Pressing his lips together in a thin line and putting as much reassurance into his eyes, Luke gave Han a final nod before disappearing from sight.

Now alone with the Empress, in her domain, the smuggler couldn’t help but feel he’d landed in a krayt’s den and was about to find out just how dangerous this woman could really be.

After gliding towards the lavish armchair and perching on it, she indicated one of the sofas and stared at him with a pleasant yet sharp look. “Sit,” she repeated, and Han’s legs complied, of their own accord. As he did so, a protocol droid filed in and set down a tray carrying a steaming teapot, a bowl of sugar, cream, and four teacups. “How do you take your tea, Captain?”

With a lot of alcohol, he thought.

“Black,” he said, and she poured him a cup. He muttered an awkward thanks as she handed it to him.

When she’d fixed her own cup and taken a sip, she zeroed in on him, expression growing hard. “Now, Captain, I will be blunt.” Her voice was cold in a way it hadn’t been before, bearing an edge to it that caused the hairs on the back of his neck to stand at attention. “My son has a heart the size of the galaxy itself, and he’s prone to giving it away far too easily. That isn’t to say I do not trust his choices, nor do I believe him to be a poor judge of character. He has faith in people, believes in their strengths and capabilities and their capacity to do good.”

“Yeah, I’ve seen that part of him,” Han agreed, thinking back to all the down-on-their-luck Mantellians whose lives were just a bit more comfortable now, thanks to Luke.

The Empress nodded gravely. “Then I’m sure you know how easily he places that trust in those who may not deserve it. In the past he has been drawn to… the wrong sorts of people, and it’s gotten him into trouble more than once.”

Those words were pointed, they referred to him, Han knew, and he found himself scowling at the most powerful woman in the galaxy. “I can assure you, Your Majesty,” he ground out, “that I have no intentions of being the wrong sort of person for your son.” That would cost him, he was sure, but he felt the need to defend his – and Luke’s – honour, even if it meant snapping at the kriffin Empress herself.

Raising a single brow, she regarded him with an appraising stare, dark eyes seeming to burrow right into his soul. “See that you aren’t,” she said evenly. “There are precious few things in this galaxy, Captain, that I treasure more than my children and their wellbeing. So long as you are in Luke’s favour, you will be treated well, I assure you, but if you bring him to harm…” The threat lingered in the air for a moment. He got the message.

He maintained her gaze and held his ground. “Look, lady,” he said, far braver than he had any right to be, “I ain’t suicidal, I’m not about to go messing with your family, and I’m definitely not gonna hurt Luke. Don’t think I could handle his face if I did – looks too much like a kicked puppy when he’s just a bit disappointed, can’t imagine it when he’s genuinely hurt. Besides, seems to me he’s got enough pain in his life without me contributing to it. Now, I may not be some high and mighty noble or anything, and what the kid actually sees in me is anybody’s guess, but, dammit, he’s got me carin’ about him, and anyone who can do that is worth protecting, in my books.”

Well, Solo, you had a good run. Always knew that mouth of yours would be the end of you, just never expected to go quite as dramatic as running it in front of the Empress and getting executed. If only Lando could see you now…

Silence echoed deafeningly in the chamber, which now felt far larger than it actually was, ready to swallow him up. The Empress was staring at him, eyebrows raised, gaze flicking over him again. After what felt like an eternity, the barest shade of a smile tugged at the corners of her lips. “Very well, Captain Solo. Perhaps you will do well here, after all.” For the first time she’d spoken to him, her voice carried genuine warmth.

All of a sudden, he could breathe again, a wave of relief crashing over him as he sank into the sofa and sighed. “Thank you, Your Majesty. I’ll do my best.”

“See that you do.” A pause. “Now!” she chirped, “Luke should be finished with your accommodations by now. I’ll send Threepio to fetch him and my daughter, and we can all get acquainted properly over some tea. Yes, I think that sounds lovely.”

There was no way anyone he knew was going to believe this. He wasn’t sure he even believed it himself. But, sitting here in the Imperial Palace having tea with the Empress and her children, he couldn’t help but wonder just what he’d gotten himself into this time…

#luke skywalker #padme amidala #luke and padme #han solo #skysolo #padme naberrie #padme survived #vader killed palpatine #somehow convinced her to become empress #twins are royalty #and of course luke is restless and runs off to hook up with han #because he's luke and an idiot #beaurozguru #lol this is over 3k words long #i did NOT mean to go that hard lmaoooo #my writing #star wars fic #imperial royal skywalker family au

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fremedon · 3 years ago

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Brickclub 2.8.8, “A Successful Interview,” and 2.8.9, “Cloistered”

I don’t really have anything to say about 2.8.8 that Bird didn’t say in his excellent writeup, so let’s move straight on to 2.8.9, “Cloistered.”

This is a long chapter and there’s just so much here. In the first sentence, we are told, “In the convent, Cosette continued to keep quiet.” She’s been trained to be quiet and small and had only just started to trust Valjean when he went away and left her again. But by the end of the chapter, Cosette is laughing, loudly enough and often enough for Valjean to pick out her laughter from the other girls’; and, “[t]hough still not pretty, Cosette, it must be said, was becoming delightful.”

Valjean came back for her. Her faith and trust were finally rewarded, and she gets to build on that. Cosette bounces back. Valjean… hoo boy.

He puts her mourning outfit aside in a suitcase full of camphor—which is to say, an embalming chemical. For Cosette, putting off mourning is a good thing. She starts laughing again. For Valjean��the clothing of a child that no longer fits (and mourning doesn’t fit beyond its term) was the first example given of the shades of the past making an invalid claim on the present. Cosette will dub the suitcase The Inseparable; Valjean will keep it always next to his bed with the key on his person—but his distance from Cosette herself starts growing, and will continue to grow.

When there are outside errands, the elder Fauchelevent runs them, and the nuns never notice that Valjean never leaves the convent cloister: “These four walls now constituted his world. Here, he saw enough of the sky for his own serenity and enough of Cosette to be happy.”

So, firstly, FOUR WALLS. As in FOUR, as in WALLS, and as in WAR BETWEEN—three levels on which this is not a good place and Valjean’s serenity and happiness do not mitigate that.

I do like the ambiguity of the nuns either being incapable of spying on Valjean, or too preoccupied with spying on each other to bother. It’s a nice transition into Valjean’s POV on the nuns, from the narrator’s.

And it’s a big shift. All through the heist sequence, the nuns have been really worldly—driven by ambition—right up through the end of 2.8.8 where they’re humblebragging about the heist in their confessions—and focused on worldly obstacles: public health regulations, bureaucracy, fines, and the physical challenges of moving and concealing a body. From Valjean’s POV, we don’t get any of that—he doesn’t perceive the reality and individualism of the nuns that Hugo has spent a very long digression building up. Some of his observations about the convent are probably true—I’ll come back to that—but he’s idealized it to a degree that Hugo has just spent a hundred pages telling us we shouldn’t.

Which, in conjunction with all the other things I’ve been noticing about the convent this time around, leaves me really not sure what to do with this:

God has his ways, after all. The convent contributed, like Cosette, to sustaining and completing in Jean Valjean the work of the bishop. It is certain that there is an aspect of virtue that leads to pride. There is a bridge there built by the devil. Jean Valjean was perhaps unwittingly quite close to that aspect and to that bridge when providence cast him into the Petit-Picpus convent. So long as he compared himself only with the bishop, he regarded himself as unworthy and remained humble, But for some time past he had been starting to compare himself with other men, and pride was germinating in him. Who knows? He might have ended up returning very slowly to hatred.

So, to start with. This is one of those paragraphs where there’s an awful lot that’s implied but not stated, and I am learning that Hugo is usually up to a lot of trickery when he does that. Parts of this paragraph make me want to read it as Hugo’s usual brand of irony or even sarcasm—that last line undercuts itself so many times I have a hard time reading it any other way.

And I have a very hard time seeing the pride Valjean has developed as a bad thing, or regarding himself as unworthy—a tendency that’s going to increase a hundredfold in the convent—as good. The constant repetition of fours and eights, Gothic death imagery, and all the comparisons to literal jails are driving home the ways that this is not a healthy place for Valjean.

But then there’s “sustaining and completing the work of the bishop.” There’s…definitely a reading to be made that the particular work of the bishop that’s being completed here is not Valjean’s salvation or his rescue from hate and despair, but the undermining of his sense of self-worth and righteous anger. I don’t know if that’s what we’re intended to take from this. I definitely think, this time through, that the bishop isn’t set up as perfect, that we are meant to critique his way of dealing with Valjean and the world—but tying him to this place and what it does to Valjean feels like a deeper acknowledgement of fault than I get the sense the book is ready to make.

After this comes the long, point-by-point comparison of the bagne and the convent, ending with

“And in these two places, so alike and so unalike, these two species of human being, so different from each other, were devoted to the same task: expiation.

Jean Valjean well understood the expiation of the former, personal expiation, expiation for oneself. But he did not understand that of the latter, that of these blameless creatures free from sin, and he wondered with a shudder: ‘Expiation of what? What expiation?’

A voice in his conscience replied: ’That most divine of human generosities, expiation for others.’

Here, all our own thinking is set aside. As narrator, we are simply putting ourselves in Jean Valjean’s position and conveying his impressions from his point of view.

Just as whenever Hugo insists that he’s digressing onto a completely irrelevant tangent, he’s making a central point, I’m pretty sure that right here he’s stressing that these are also the views of the book and of himself, Victor Hugo.

So we do get the bottom rungs of the ladder whose top is the barricade: another republic enclosed in four walls, expiating the sins of others, but doing it more effectively—a tollgate to the future. The nuns really are attempting a great good, even if everything about how they’re going about it is inside-out.

But Valjean is going to take exactly the wrong lessons from them:

Sometimes in the evening at twilight, a time when the garden was deserted, he could be seen kneeling in the middle of the path running alongside the chapel, in front of the window he had looked through on the night of his arrival, turned towards the spot where he knew the sister who was making reparation lay prostrate in prayer. And so he prayed, kneeling before the sister. It was as if he dared not kneel directly before God.

We’ve seen him kneel like this outside the bishop’s house; and we’ll see him prostrate himself in front of Cosette’s little mourning outfit. Throughout his life, we see him approach God through intermediaries because he feels unworthy of any other approach.

But I’m also feeling echoes here of Grantaire—someone else who recognizes the divine generosity of work that he doesn’t feel worthy or qualified to join in, and can only get as far as venerating the person doing the work.

Maybe that’s what we’re supposed to take from the promissory note from the Royal and Catholic army, pasted to the wall of Valjean’s room by an ex-Chouan gardener—a piece of scrip from the other side of the revolution, kept as a souvenir with no actual value, just as Grantaire will have an old assignat in a drawer.

#brickclub #lm 2.8.8 #lm 2.8.9

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