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dynamicduoofstackie · 3 years

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I’m curious why SamBucky is so rare-ish in these streets when it comes to pairing Bucky with an MCU character? I get it, I get it, with the Stucky ‘end of the line’; we been teaming up since the comic book days spiel. I personally see Bucky and Steve as brothers after Captain America: The Winter Soldier cause it felt like Bucky was ready to adopt Steve after his mother, who was his only remaining family, died.

That’s me. I know everyone not going to see it in that light. But Bucky gives me big brother vibes whenever he has to save pipsqueak Steve in the MCU. Plus the original comics had Bucky as an adorable, little sidekick that would make you think reverse big brother and little brother, with Steve being the big brother and Bucky the little brother. I don’t read the comics so it might just me. No offense.

Is it really about the, Steve knew him longer thing? I mean other than possibly Natasha in the comics, Bucky has no clearly defined MCU love interests. Bucky was a flirt before he met Sarah Wilson, so him being able to flirt, just proves he’s coming into his own. I’m not saying he doesn’t like Sarah that way. But he also flirted with Peggy in the first Captain America movie because he’s a lady killer and was more than willing to take the two girls off Steve’s hand at the Stark Expo when Steve floundered. Steve/Tony I sorta get with the enemies to lover trope. The Bucky x Clint thing is really mind-boggling to me because there were no interaction between them in the MCU; so something must have happened in the comics. So okay... But the fact that Sam had more interaction with Bucky in the MCU and had a whole comic book series with him and Bucky shouldn’t have the ships OF SamBucky and Sam x Clint at a 700+ fanfic difference. Fandoms are so weird sometimes... anyway...

Sam and Steve are the only ones in the MCU who really interact with Bucky outside the strong and beautiful people of Wakanda. None of the Wakandians seem interested in Bucky, except in maybe a familial way. Like they found a stray cat, nursed and raised it; but the cat is still an outdoor cat that might visit from time to time, but is mostly out there doing its on thing. Just the feeling I get with how comfortable Bucky was interacting with Princess Shuri and/or the Dora Milaje. They respect him, fixed him, and let Bucky roam free.

Steve is somewhere on the moon or wherever, in The Falcon and Winter Soldier tv series and Sam is the only one willing to stay in contact with Bucky. Shoot in Endgame only Sam and Steve were Bucky’s only people because Steve protecting Bucky caused a rift between the Avengers. It was repaired, but Team Iron Man doesn’t know Bucky at all, and/or don’t seem interested. Team Captain America are either dead (Natasha), being with their family (Clint and Scott), or dealing with their own shit (Steve and Wanda). So that leaves Sam. That’s really no coincidence even though I’ll admit, Steve going to a support group to more Peggy instead of his two best friends that were recently missing was kind of shitty.

So again, getting back on track, why isn’t their more Sambucky love? We already know Stucky is default most popular in the fandom for Bucky pairing. But Sam, who has the enemies turn friends aspect about him and has been the only one, besides Steve, who openly tried to find Bucky. I mean what better love story is it for a man who went from thinking Bucky would be better off dead, to suddenly sacrificing his 9 to 5 and freedom to search for Bucky and help him escape the airport in Germany?

I mean SamBucky is one of the few ships that has a foundation of amazing content from Anthony Mackie and Sebastian Stan’s interactions with each other. Mackie and Sebastian literally went from play pretending like they couldn’t stand each other, to damn near needing someone to chaperone them in their interviews because they so random shit, flirt and love to be close. Sebastian has talked about Mackie more than any costar and Mackie has a wonderful knack for finding Sebastian on any red carpet event to compliment the hell out of him. They literally had a show created for the two characters because of that amazing chemistry and Sebastian even co-signed on it with this gem below.

The MCU was throwing Bucky and Sam together over and over again, way before they got their own tv series. They argued together, fought each other, tried to one up each other by ripping wings and dropkicking from the air. Even in the television show big-hearted Sam willingly allows Bucky to go on a top secret government mission with him. Checks in on him constantly to make sure he’s okay. The only one that defends Bucky against people like Zemo, Sharon and John Walker.

Sam really was the one person that helped put most of Bucky’s demons to rest in The Falcon and the Winter Soldier. He gave him the tough love he needed in the end. He gave him purpose. He teased him like he was a normal person and not a former, brain-washed assassin. Sam watched over Bucky because he wanted to. Steve never asked him to check on Bucky. Steve never asked Sam to help him find Bucky. Steve never asked for Sam to sacrifice his freedom and go to the raft just so Bucky and Steve could escape in the airport. Sam volunteered to do that all on his own because he saw how worthy Bucky was.

Why else would Sam have him on a top government mission? Why else would he try to bail out Bucky from jail or follow Steve and Bucky against his Avenger allies? Why else would he let Bucky talk him into let Zemo go? Or any of the other insane things they did together, unless he didn’t care?

And that’s what Bucky needs, someone to give a damn about him. Someone to text him and chase after him. Someone to defend him and remind him that he’s not the Winter Soldier anymore. Someone to offer him a place to stay and normalcy. Someone who isn’t afraid to introduce to his family or watch his six in a battle. Someone touch him because he knows Bucky’s been touch-starved or tease him because he’s not afraid to be next to him.

Sam knows this Bucky. The Bucky who was determined to give the Shield to Sam. The Bucky who dangled kids off his arm while talking to Sam’s sister. The Bucky who has trouble sleeping at night because he still has demons. The Bucky who tried to kill him because he didn’t have control of his own body The Bucky who was just as broken as Sam when Steve just Peggy over them. The Bucky who is trying to find purpose in a world that has forgotten about him. He doesn’t have to remake himself into the old Bucky for Steve because Sam only knows this Bucky. Bucky doesn’t have to be anybody, but himself around Sam and he is.

I mean maybe people don’t care to pair Bucky with Sam because he was against saving Bucky the first time; or didn’t pull up the car seat; or didn’t want to jump in believing Bucky after he threw him across the room by his chin; or maybe because Sam’s black... WHO KNOWS.

I just thought it was odd that the fandom doesn’t respect Anthony Mackie as a whole, too. Like the poor man has to insert himself into interviews with his white costars just to not be pretty arm candy. But that’s another rant for another post.

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pftones3482 · 3 years

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Sometimes Stupid

Commission for @randomfandomfan from one of their many prompts they gave me. Took forever bc of work and life and also???? Now I have a cat??? So that's fun. But this was fun to write. Read it here on AO3

Set post TLO and pre HOO (and a little bit post HOO). Under a cut for length.

Contrary to popular belief, Leo Valdez was not stupid.

He was an idiot, at times – for instance, maybe running away from his seventh (fifteenth? He’d really lost track at this point) foster home wasn’t the best decision he could have made, especially given that it was the middle of summer and oh, also, hurricane season. And okay, maybe he should’ve taken more with him than a single change of clothes, a box of Ritz crackers, a pocketknife, and a water bottle that had definitely seen better days, but he was in a rush, okay?

But he wasn’t stupid.

When he ran away from his foster homes, Leo tended to stay away from people where he could. And if he had to be around them, he cleaned up, smiled brightly, “Yes ma’am”ed and “Yes’sir”ed to an obnoxious point, and lied his pants off. People were less likely to call the police on a Hispanic kid if they thought he was just a darling little angel waiting for mom at the grocery store, and the last thing he needed was the cops in his business.

Not that it hadn’t happened, of course. He’d dealt with cops of all kinds – nice cops, bad cops, black cops, white cops (WAY too many of those, in his opinion), the occasional cop who would speak Spanish with him, cops who were just there to write a report and move on with their days – cops.

He tried to stay away from them.

Which meant sticking to beaches and forests, lakes and campgrounds, middle of nowhere places with no people for miles. Leo was good at disappearing. Hiding.

But there were always times when he needed an adult. When he needed to hitchhike, or when he needed food to the point of near passing out. Once for serious medical attention. There was a system to what adults you could trust.

Never cops. You could never trust the cops, no matter what naïve white parents thought. Leo had been in cuffs enough to know that was false.

You also couldn’t usually trust priests. They meant well, sure, but they always ended up calling the authorities in the end. That, or they tried to convert Leo to Catholicism, and while one of those encounters had ended with a swiped bottle of watered-down red wine and a night that made him vow to never drink again, he wasn’t trying to contact the church.

(THAT night, Leo would say he had been stupid. He could admit that)

Homeless people were usually okay. While a lot of them were very suspicious of everyone, almost every homeless person he’d ever met would point him in the direction of food, water, free showers, free clothes, or a library (his saving grace during the heat of the summer and the cold of the winter). The times when he came across gay homeless people were when he felt safest – they especially never pressed him about his background. Ironic, really, that he felt safer with strangers on the street than his foster homes.

Moms were sometimes okay. Especially if they were Hispanic, or black, or just anything but white. They, at least, wouldn’t call the cops on him. But they were also hit or miss – sometimes they helped in way of a meal, or a new bottle of water. One mom even took him to the store and got him new socks and underwear (he had cried that night). But other moms rushed him away from their precious babies. Some moms called him ungrateful for the “space he had.”

Dads were a never. Leo never went to men if he could help it, even if they had children with them. He didn’t trust them as far as he could throw them, and that wasn’t very far.

But it was hurricane season. And he was on the coast. And it was downpouring, and he was starving, and the only people he had seen for miles were a white couple, a man and a woman, standing on the porch of a somewhat rundown shack that Leo would’ve probably thought was abandoned if he hadn’t seen them there.

The man was tall, peppered hair that was shifting more to salt, with a rough beard and a pair of glasses perched on his nose. The woman at his side was short, probably Leo’s height, with dark curly hair and vibrantly blue eyes. It was streaked with gray, but she was, admittedly, a very pretty woman. Something about her smile put Leo at ease.

He clutched his backpack tighter in his fist and stumbled over the sand towards the shack, ankles rolling uncomfortably on the wet ground. He was sure he looked atrocious, sure that the moment they spotted him, they’d shriek and cuss him out and lock the door.

But then he coughed, hard, his shoulders shaking, and the woman whipped her head around. He watched her eyes widen, watched her tug at the man’s sleeve, and then she was bolting – barefoot, Leo noticed – down the steps and over to him.

He flinched when she wrapped an arm over his shoulders, jolting out of her grip more from habit than anything else. She froze, holding both hands up and relaxing her stance. “Hey, honey. It’s okay. It’s okay.”

Somewhere deep down, Leo’s brain was scoffing at the patronizing words. But on the surface, he focused on the words, and then sharpened his eyes onto the man as he approached, phone in hand. “I-I c-can’t-”

The woman looked back, down at the phone, and her shoulders stiffened. “Paul, put the phone away, please.”

Her voice held an intonation that Leo couldn’t decipher, but the man – Paul – instantly shut the phone off and pocketed it. The moment it was gone, Leo let his shoulders loosen, and he looked at the woman anxiously. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I-I just…”

“Hey.”

Her arm was more cautious this time, sliding around Leo’s shoulders with a pace that would let him move if he wanted. He didn’t, just let it happen, and then the woman was easing him over the sticky sand and up the steps of the shack, Paul close behind them. He stopped at the door, pushing back hard against the woman’s guiding grip. “I don’t want to ruin your house,” he managed.

The woman’s laugh was…well, to be perfectly honest, it made Leo feel warm. Like she could never hurt him.

Those are usually the most dangerous people, his mind tried to reason with him.

“Sweetheart, it’s just a rental cabin. Besides, I’ve had far worse than a little sand and water on my floors before.”

Before he could wonder at that sentence, she opened the door and nudged him inside. The second that Paul closed the door, the sound of the wind died down and the chill in the air evaporated. Leo realized he was shivering.

The woman’s hands were warm on his cheeks. “My name is Sally, hon. You are-?”

He usually gave a fake name, but – “Leo, ma’am.”

“Don’t you ma’am me,” she scoffed, her voice easy as she helped Leo to the couch. “I’m not that old, am I Paul?”

Paul put his hands up. “I abstain from answering.”

Sally scoffed and pressed a cool hand on Leo’s forehead. “Can I take your backpack, sweetheart?”

Something like panic flared in Leo’s chest, and Sally must have seen it, because she pulled her hand back and held it up. “I’m not moving it far, I just want Paul to dry everything out for you, okay?”

Fingers shaking, Leo shrugged off his bag – the one he’d been carrying for nearly three states – and passed it over to her. She took it like it was a priceless artifact, and handed it to Paul with more tenderness than Leo had ever seen given to an inanimate object. “I think my son might have left some clothes here while he was with us last week,” she said, voice soft. “He’s a little older than you, so some things might be big, but is it okay if we give you some of his clothes while we dry out yours?”

Leo swallowed around the lump in his throat. “Um. Yeah.”

She stood up and left with Paul, giving Leo a moment to be alone and take in the cabin around him.

It was old, but obviously well taken care of, with weathered planks of wood gracing the walls and the floor. He was in the living room, full of mismatched couches and chairs and a bookshelf stacked full of books and games. He didn’t see a TV in sight, but he wasn’t expecting to find one. He stood shakily, suddenly very aware of how wet he was getting the couch, and wrapped his arms around himself as he explored the rest of the main room.

The kitchen was small and cramped, but he could smell something full of tomatoes and spices in the oven that made his tastebuds water. He didn’t dare look for fear of getting caught, so he stepped away and into the tiny dining area. There was sand on the floor, spread thin and fine, and it was such a small thing, but it made Leo relax even more – Sally meant it when she said she didn’t care about him ruining her floors.

But she and Paul had been gone for a while, and Leo wasn’t stupid, okay? It didn’t matter how well intentioned someone was, they always thought they knew better, and if they were gone too long, it meant they were trying to decide for him. So he crept towards the hallway they’d vanished to, praying that he didn’t step on a squeaky board. Old homes always had them in the most inconvenient places.

“-not answering?” he picked up Paul’s voice saying.

“No,” Sally said, a sigh in her voice. “He did say he and Annabeth were on a date, but I didn’t expect them to be in Paris of all places. How did they even-?”

“Can you get ahold of Chiron?”

Not the police, then, Leo reasoned, unless they knew an officer by that name. He leaned a little closer.

“No – I try not to call the camp unless I need to. Phone lines and all that, you know?”

Paul huffed. “I know. And Rachel is at art camp, right?”

“Yup,” Sally said, and Leo heard a sound like a blowing raspberry. “He clearly isn’t aware of anything, Paul. He’s terrified.”

“Probably a runaway,” Paul hummed, and Leo flinched at the damning statement. “Met a couple kids like that teaching.”

He looked like a teacher. You couldn’t trust most teachers either, Leo had learned. They were just like priests. Tried their best, but they always inevitably called someone.

“What did you do? Who did you call?” Sally asked, and Leo stiffened. Here it comes, his brain taunted.

“No one,” Paul said.

Leo blinked, taking a slight step back. What?

“Kids don’t run away for no reason, Sal. Especially not kids like him. Perce taught me that. I mean, maybe in my early days of teaching, I might have called the authorities, but ever since this summer I…how could I risk that? Even before then, I mean…the stories I’ve heard from some of these kids I’ve talked to. We don’t know anything about him. If he ran away, all this way, in this weather? It was bad, love.”

Leo’s throat ached.

He’d never, the whole time he’d been in foster care, ever heard an adult admit that they were wrong to call the authorities on him. Never heard an adult take his perspective into account, especially without even knowing him. Never had an adult admit that his life could be anything other than ideal.

He took another step back and oh shit, there it was, the cursed piece of wood in every old house to ever exist. He cussed under his breath and ducked his head as Sally stepped into the hallway. He refused to look up at her. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “You were just gone for a while a-and I thought you might be calling someone.”

No verbal response. Instead, a soft bundle of fabric was pressed into Leo’s hands. He startled, gripping onto the clothing, and looked up at Sally and Paul with wide eyes. Paul shook his head. “We’re not calling anyone, son. Not if you don’t want us to. But we do ask that you get cleaned up, before you catch pneumonia.”

Sally tilted her head towards the door across the hall. “Let me know when you’re done, I’ll toss your clothes in the dryer. Paul was just finishing up dinner when you came along. Do you like lasagna?”

Leo’s mouth watered at the thought of eating any kind of food that wasn’t stale crackers and canned tuna. “Yes ma’am.”

“What’d I say about that ma’am nonsense?” Sally scolded.

Leo ducked his head, trying to press down the tears. “Yes, miss,” he chuckled.

Sally laughed as Paul headed for the kitchen. “It’s a start, love.”

Sally’s son’s clothes were soft, well loved. They smelled like sea water and lavender detergent, and though the t-shirt was a gaudy orange with letters so faded that Leo couldn’t read them, he sank into the fabric with a sigh. Sally had also passed him a pair of sweatpants, and Leo hoped that her son wouldn’t be mad if he ever found out that some random foster kid had borrowed them.

If he was anything like Sally, though, Leo had the feeling he’d like him.

His hair was still wet, but this time from a shower, and Leo couldn’t remember the last time he’d gotten to stand under an actual stream of hot water without people literally timing him to make sure he didn’t take too long. He stood in front of the mirror, sighing a little at how skinny he’d gotten. He’d always been small – being skinny only made him more of a punching bag for the bigger foster kids. His hair, untamed from weeks of running, hung in his eyes, and he wondered briefly if Sally might have a hair tie he could borrow.

He left the bathroom and crept into the dining room, where Sally was setting the table and Paul was pulling one of the most beautiful lasagnas he’d ever seen out of the oven.

“-texted me, said they’d be back tomorrow morning. He offered to come back sooner,” Sally was saying as Leo stood in the doorway, “but I know he and ‘beth haven’t really gotten to go on any non-monstrous dates recently.”

She blinked when she saw him standing there, and her smile softened into something warm and inviting. “Come on, hon. Paul was just getting dinner out.”

Maybe it was the malnourishment, or Paul’s cooking skills, or Leo’s exhaustion, or a combination of the three, but Leo had never tasted such good Italian food in his life. He downed one, two, three pieces and a full salad before he finally slowed down. To his relief, neither Paul nor Sally gave him any grief about how many pieces he took. Honestly, he thought he watched Paul actively make his slices bigger than theirs.

They’d clearly been talking about their son when he came in the room. This guy was in Paris, on a date with his girlfriend, and he was coming back tomorrow. Leo wondered just how rich this family was – the dad was a teacher, but Sally hadn’t said what she did, and Leo was a little afraid to ask.

When Paul brought out a pie for dessert, Leo almost cried. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had any dessert fancier than a stolen Ding Dong from a corner store. Paul definitely gave him a larger slice than them, and as he ate it, Sally poked at her own pie.

“Leo, we’re not going to pry,” she started, gentle. “Your story is yours, and I know how tricky it can be to share yourself and your past with new people.”

The sad smile Paul shot her didn’t go unnoticed by Leo, and he internally bristled at the thought that this wonderful mom in front of him could understand anything about how he felt, because that meant that she’d gone through shit she didn’t deserve. He said nothing, though, just nodded.

Sally eyed her pie thoughtfully, stabbing a blackberry that had escaped the crust. “But I feel like…well, I feel as though my son especially can relate to how you’re feeling, or at least some of it. If you’d be willing to wait for him to come home, maybe we can figure some things out together.”

Leo felt lost. He’d been lost a lot before, but this was the first time it was mental and not physical. “What?”

Sally looked up, seeming to realize that she’d baffled him. “I mean…”

She looked at Paul, and Leo looked between the two of them, tightening his grip on his fork. They were having a silent conversation. Leo hated when adults did that. “You mean you want to wait until I’m asleep so you can call the cops o-or foster services or-or just wait until your son gets back so he can tell me to get out.”

He shoved his chair back from the table, tears prickling at his eyes. Every time. Every time. He always got his hopes up, always thought he’d found the perfect people, people who got it, and every fucking time, he-

Hands settled on his shoulders, and he ripped away, scowling at Sally. Her eyes were sad, and Leo felt an unwelcome stab of guilt in his chest. “That is not what we were suggesting, ever, honey. I would never call foster services, first of all. They’re atrocious, especially for kids of color.”

Leo jolted back. He’d never had a white woman actively acknowledge his race so bluntly before – it was usually partnered with some demeaning comment about “his kind” of people. He eyed Sally warily.

She lowered her hands, keeping them on her hips where he could see them. “Second, I’d never call the police either. You’re not a problem, and my son has had enough unfortunate encounters with them for me to…distrust them severely, to say the least.”

Her son had-?

“I just…we know a place. Where you would genuinely be safe, hon. No foster homes, no cops, with people who get it.”

She was lying. She had to be lying, no matter what Leo’s heart said. But she wasn’t going to let this go, and he knew it. So he sighed, fidgeted with his fingers. He wished he had something to build. “Okay. I’ll wait for your son to get home.”

Sally relaxed, and Leo gave her a thin smile.

He helped her and Paul clean up the kitchen, put away the leftover lasagna. Sat with them and did a puzzle, played a game of Clue with them. Fixed their radio for them, much to their surprise, and then watched with a small smile on his face as Paul and Sally danced around the living room together. They tried to get him to join, but he’d never been much of a dancer, so he declined.

They bid him goodnight around 11, and he shut the door of their son’s room, let the hours tick on.

At three am, he got up, changed back into his own clothes, left the borrowed ones folded neatly on the foot of the bed. He took a flashlight from the bedside table and slid it into his backpack, stepped out of the bedroom and avoided the squeaky floorboard.

The tool kit from fixing the radio was still on the coffee table, and he picked it up with only the slightest feelings of guilt. Went through the cabinets and pulled out sleeves of crackers, a box of granola, eyed the leftover lasagna with a sad gaze. He found a roll of toilet paper under the sink, a bottle of hand sanitizer in a junk drawer.

He paused by the game of Clue, left out on the table from their match, and let his fingers trace over it sadly. His gut screamed at him to leave. His heart screamed at him to stay. He wasn’t stupid.

Leo had always trusted his gut.

He pocketed the candlestick piece and turned for the door, flinching the second his eyes landed on Sally.

Her hair was done up in a braid, her pajamas wrinkled, and the moon shining through the window reflected the sadness in her eyes. Leo opened his mouth, but couldn’t find it in him to speak – the lump was back.

She stepped forward and he shut his eyes, expecting a lecture. Instead, her hand cupped his cheek. Her other hand pressed into his, and he gasped as he felt the telltale touch of money in his fingers. He looked down at the wad of cash – he couldn’t see how much it was, but he knew that he didn’t deserve it. He looked up at her, panicking. “I can’t-”

“Stay, I know,” she whispered, and that wasn’t what he’d been planning to say, and he knew that she knew that. “I understand, Leo. I understand, sweetie.”

The sob slipped out before he could stop it, and Sally’s eyes softened. She bent at the hip, pressing a soft kiss to his curls. “When you end up meeting my son,” she murmured, “come visit, okay?”

Leo had no idea what that meant, but he nodded, if only to appease her. “I’m sorry,” he croaked.

She squeezed his shoulder. “Nothing to be sorry for, honey. Be safe.”

Sally watched him go, watched him shut the door behind him, and he looked down at the money in his hands with a choked feeling in his chest. It was more than he’d held in his entire life. He couldn’t take it, but he knew she’d be upset if he didn’t. And if there was one thing Leo refused to do, it was make Sally more upset than he already had.

So he pocketed it and, with an aching heart, stepped off the porch of the cabin. The storm from earlier had died down, and, fingers tight on his backpack straps, he started making his way up the beach.

Percy was bouncing up and down at the entrance to Camp Half Blood, fingers curled around Annabeth’s hand. “Do I look okay?” he asked for probably the thousandth time that morning.

Piper rolled her eyes. “Percy, it’s your mom. She doesn’t care what you look like.”

Percy shot her a mock glare. “I haven’t seen her in over a year, McClean, sue me.”

“You look fine, Perce,” Annabeth laughed, kissing his cheek. “She’s gonna mostly care that you’re alive.”

“Okay but this tattoo-”

“Sorry, you vanished on me for over a year, crossed the globe, and you got a TATTOO?” came a very scolding, very obviously Mom Voice, and Leo snickered, turning to see who was about to absolutely whoop Percy’s ass.

And he stumbled on his own feet, lips parting as Sally (Sally Jackson, his unhelpful brain mocked) appeared at the top of the hill. Her hair was a little grayer than it had been when Leo met her, her hips a little wider, but her smile was the same, her laugh as Percy launched himself at her the same peal of delight Leo remembered on his toughest nights, and when she caught his eye over Percy’s shoulder, her smile only widened.

Okay, so sometimes Leo Valdez was kind of stupid.

#percy jackson #pjo #leo valdez #heroes of olympus #pjo fanfic #my writing #sally jackson #paul blofis #percy jackson and the olympians #hoo

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thesewordsareallihavetogive · 4 years

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no body, no crime - allison argent x reader

(gif source)

Summary: When y/n disappears after confronting her husband about his affair, Allison takes matters into her own hands. Based on “no body, no crime (feat. HAIM)” by taylor swift [x]. You can find the mood board for this fic here

Word Count: 4.4k

Warnings: cursing, infidelity, implied kidnapping, implied murder, murder, alleged murder, alleged/implied death of reader, reader is married to a man with a j name 🤢

a/n: hi everyone! it’s been a hot minute since i posted a new fic & this is why. i’ve been working on this since late december of 2020, so this is the longest i’ve ever spent on a stand-alone work. i’ll include more gory details about the writing process at the end if you’re interested :)

dedicated to: elle (@demxters) for all of her help and ideas! this fic literally wouldn’t have gotten finished without her, send her some love <3

this is also dedicated to caoimhe (@free-pool-trash) for not murdering me after i gave her a preview several weeks ago and then just ✨stopped writing✨

master list

Este's a friend of mine

We meet up every Tuesday night for dinner and a glass of wine

“Hey!” Allison greeted cheerily as she met y/n at their usual table tucked in the corner of their favorite restaurant. y/n returned the brunette’s smile as she stood up to hug her friend, but it didn’t reach her eyes. Allison saw through y/n’s facade and furrowed her eyebrows. “What’s wrong?” she asked as concern spread across her features.

“I think Justin is having an affair,” y/n admitted. The statement dropped like a bomb between the two women, causing Allison to nearly spew the wine in her mouth all over the table. She coughed a few times and drank some water to clear her throat before she composed herself enough to ask questions.

“What happened? Did you see something?” Allison asked hesitantly. Her mind was still reeling from the mere concept of y/n’s husband cheating on her. Sure, Justin had never been Allison’s favorite guy, but it was normal for girls to think that no guy would ever be good enough for their best friend. Right?

Her husband's acting different and it smells like infidelity

She says, "That ain't my merlot on his mouth"

"That ain't my jewelry on our joint account"

y/n explained what had been going on over the past few weeks. Justin had been acting distant, which wasn’t too abnormal, but when he started coming home from work much later than his shifts ended and disappearing at odd hours of the night, y/n got concerned. The day that she had planned to approach him about everything and ask if anything was wrong, she got a call from her bank while driving home from work.

“Hi Mrs. y/l/n, this is Kathy from the bank. I’m calling to inform you that there have been a few large cash withdrawals from your joint account recently under your husband’s name, as well as a pretty expensive purchase yesterday at the jeweler,” the rest of Kathy’s words sounded muffled to y/n. It was nowhere near her birthday, Valentine’s day, or their anniversary, so y/n didn’t know what he could possibly be spending all their money on.

The next incident came a few days later when both y/n and Justin were home. y/n’s husband was in the shower and his phone buzzed with a new text message alert. Typically, y/n was never the type to snoop on her husband’s phone, but she figured she should check in case it was a work message. At least that’s how she justified it in her head. Justin had saved the sender’s number under the contact name “Spam Risk.” It was clever, y/n had to give him credit for that at least. Upon further inspection, y/n quickly realized that those texts weren’t sent from a telemarketer bot.

6:24 p.m. I can’t wait to see you tonight, baby - Spam Risk

6:25 p.m. Don’t keep me waiting too long ;) - Spam Risk

y/n thought the messages were strange, but the picture that followed the messages was definitely what threw y/n for a loop. There, on her husband’s text message thread, was a racy photo of a woman’s body that definitely wasn’t hers. y/n was quite literally stunned to silence as she dropped the phone back down onto the dresser. For the rest of the night, y/n was numb and quiet, not that Justin noticed. Then, like clockwork, he left the house at 11 p.m. with no explanation of where he was going or when he would be back.

By the end of y/n’s story, Allison’s mouth was open so wide she was sure her jaw would hit the table.

“What are you going to do?” Allison whispered, still in shock. y/n grimaced before clearing her throat and speaking her next words with finality.

No, there ain't no doubt

I think I'm gonna call him out

Este wasn't there

Tuesday night at Olive Garden at her job or anywhere

“Hi, there should be a reservation for two under Allison Argent or y/n y/l/n for tonight,” Allison greeted warmly as she approached the hostess stand at their go-to girl’s night restaurant.

“Right this way, ma’am,” the hostess said with a smile as she grabbed two menus and led her towards their usual table. Two menus. That must mean that y/n wasn’t there yet? Allison thought it was strange, y/n almost always was the first of the two to arrive. Allison brushed off the thought as she thanked the hostess and sat down. She had intended to look over the menu, but the strangeness of it all wouldn’t leave her mind. y/n was late. She was never late. Allison pulled out her phone to text her best friend, and it then occurred to her that she hadn’t heard from y/n since last week. Allison had been away on a “work” trip with her dad for the past six days and had just gotten back into town. After 30 minutes of sitting at the table alone, half a dozen unanswered text messages, and even more calls sent straight to voicemail, Allison dropped a few bills on the table and left.

As Allison pulled out of the parking lot, she turned on the radio in a futile attempt to drown out some of her racing thoughts. Between songs the radio host took to the mic to make an announcement.

“Hello Beacon Hills, we now interrupt your regularly scheduled listening with an urgent message from the Sheriff's department. Speaking now is Sheriff Noah Stilinski,” the host trailed off before there was a brief crackle as the audio transitioned to the Sheriff’s press briefing. Allison turned up the volume as the Sheriff’s voice carried across the radio.

“Thank you all for attending and tuning in. It is with great displeasure and a heavy heart that I inform you all that y/n y/l/n has been reported missing. Shortly after 8 a.m. this morning, we were informed by her husband that she didn’t show up for work yesterday morning and also didn’t come home last night,” Sheriff Stilinski continued speaking but it all began to sound like white noise to Allison. It took everything she had in her to focus on not veering off the road so that she could head to the Sheriff’s station and speak to Stilinski in person.

Conveniently, her route took her right past y/n and Justin’s house. Allison didn’t know what to expect as she sped by their house, but the fact that Justin’s normally filthy truck had been cleaned and waxed definitely caught her eye. The truck and driveway were soon out of sight due to the speed she was driving at, but at first glance, it looked as though his tires and grill had been replaced.

He reports his missing wife

And I noticed when I passed his house his truck has got some brand new tires

About a week had passed since y/n had been reported missing. Allison wasn’t sure how many search parties had been held, but they all resulted in the same thing: nothing. There wasn’t a single trace of her best friend, in fact, everything in Beacon Hills looked completely unchanged and normal. Allison’s focus and appetite seemed to have left with her other half, try as she might to desperately hold onto them. Her marksmanship had even been affected, something that hadn’t happened since high school.

Allison started driving around town during her free time. She wasn’t headed anywhere in particular, she mostly did it to try to clear her mind, though most times she was unsuccessful. She’d been mindlessly taking right and left turns and before she realized where she was, she passed y/n’s house.

Allison hadn’t planned to slow down as she passed the house, it was a mindless act if anything. Seeing a moving truck backed up to the house while Justin and some unfamiliar blonde woman were unloading boxes ensured that her decision to park her car where it couldn’t be seen and spy on the pair wasn’t mindless. Despite her gut telling her not to, Allison decided to give Justin the benefit of the doubt. Maybe he needed a roommate now since y/n couldn’t pay her share of the rent? Allison tried her best to keep all of her judgments and suspicions at bay as she watched the otherwise uneventful event unfold while biting her fingernails.

A few boxes later, Justin pulled the blonde in by her waist and kissed her with a fervor that would make most people blush. Allison’s eyes nearly popped out of her head as she sat there in shock with her mouth wide open. It took a while, mostly because the kiss lasted for an obnoxious amount of time, but Allison finally regained control of her body. It was like her brain had to go through a hard reset before she was able to face the reality of the situation.

y/n was right. Justin was cheating on her. Not only that, but Justin had cheated on y/n, spent less than a week grieving her disappearance, then allowed this to happen.

And his mistress moved in

Sleeps in Este's bed and everything

Allison found out that Justin Smith’s mistress’s name was Rebecca Baker. She was a few years younger than y/n and she worked at the same company as Justin. It didn’t take long for Allison to hack into both of their iCloud accounts. A few hours of scrolling later she was really regretting her decision, especially when she got to Justin’s messages to Rebecca about y/n.

2:47 a.m. What about your wife? - Spam Risk

2:47 a.m. What about her? - Justin

2:48 a.m. Are you going to leave her or kick her out or something? - Spam Risk

2:48 a.m. It’s been taken care of. - Justin

2:48 a.m. Taken care of? Justin, what does that mean? - Spam Risk

2:49 a.m. Justin??? - Spam Risk

Each new message ensured that bits of Allison’s fingernails had been gnawed off while her left hand fidgeted anxiously in front of her mouth. Allison decided that those messages were probably the most incriminating thing she’d find digitally, but the time and date stamps caught her eye. The texts were sent early Monday morning, the day that y/n allegedly left home and then didn’t show up for work or return home.

A chill spread from deep within Allison’s bones up to the surface of her skin, making goosebumps appear. Allison didn’t know what exactly, but she knew something terrible had happened to y/n and Justin had something to do with it. She shut her laptop a little harder than necessary as a resolved look spread across her face.

No, there ain't no doubt

Somebody's gotta catch him out

Good thing my daddy made me get a boating license when I was fifteen

Allison regularly accessed her personal armory, whether it was to prepare for a job or pack for a trip to the shooting range, but it had been a while since a powerful and unforgiving feeling hung over her shoulders. Allison carefully ran her fingers over her custom silver arrowheads as she considered her options. Her father’s words from one of her adolescent archery lessons rung in her head.

“The type of bow and arrows you use doesn’t matter. As long as you use them right, you’ll be able to make any shot. Don’t get hung up on the technicalities.”

Not too long after, her bag was stocked with her essentials: a bow, her trusted black leather archery glove, as well as a handful of arrows, though these ones lacked the silver heads she typically reserved for more exotic expeditions.

The rare dark clouds in the California sky at sunset were reflected in Allison’s cold eyes. The drive to her target’s house was familiar, the turns she made were almost instinctual. Normally these roads reminded her of her coffee dates with y/n and nights they spent talking for hours until sunlight crept through the windows. Now, her mind was blank and her heart was devoid of all emotion.

Even though Allison had disabled her car’s GPS earlier, she parked her car about a mile away from his house. When she was done, there wouldn’t be any evidence that could be traced back to her. She memorized his schedule; at 5:00 p.m. his shift ended and recently he’d been getting home by 5:20. His girlfriend got home sometime between 5:30 and 5:45, but she would leave for her pilates class around 6:30 and wouldn’t get home until 7:45. Allison had just over an hour window to get the job done, but it wouldn’t take that long. If everything went according to plan, she’d be off the property within a few minutes of taking the shot.

When she arrived her target had just come home from work and was alone in the house. She waited patiently, hidden by the trees that the property backed up to. She watched as he moved around through the open curtains and then as his girlfriend entered the house and kissed him with a passion that made Allison’s stomach churn. She watched as they ate dinner together, as her target’s girlfriend got ready for her gym class, and watched as she got in her car and drove away. When Allison checked her watch it was only 6:25 p.m., she had far more time than she needed.

The plan was simple, really. Under the cover of darkness, she’d flip the breakers, effectively cutting the power. When her target came out to investigate, she’d let him fumble around in the darkness for a while. He’d always been a paranoid individual, so it wouldn’t take much to get him on edge. A rustle in the bushes here, a small snapped tree branch there, and then something that would get his attention. Allison wanted his eyes to be on her when she took the shot.

Allison’s target was watching TV so he knew immediately when the power went out, plus the fact that the once illuminated house was suddenly bathed in darkness. The high-pitched yelp that escaped his throat almost made Allison laugh. She had to keep quiet though, at least for now. As expected, the dopey man scurried around to the side of the house where the breakers were located in no time. The batteries in the flashlight he held were on their last leg, that much was evident in the way the light beam flickered every few seconds.

Just as he opened the door to the circuit breaker panel, Allison moved. A rustle here. The sound practically echoed in the silence of the night, causing the man to whip around and shine his flashlight directly at the source of the noise. There was nothing there. It’s just the wind, he reasoned before getting back to work. After a few switches had been flipped - none of them for the outdoor lights - he heard another noise. This one was much louder than the last, a small snapped tree branch there. Again, the flashlight’s flickering light beam uncovered nothing, but it was enough to make all of the hairs on the back of Allison’s target’s neck stand up straight. He hastily flipped the rest of the breakers and the outdoor lights finally came on.

When yellow light from the backyard fixtures flooded the area, both Allison and her target were revealed. Allison stood a considerable distance away from the man, but she was close enough to see the blood drain from his face and his Adam's apple bob. When his eyes darted to the bow hung by her side, realization dawned on his face. He began to turn away with the intention of running, but Allison’s voice held him frozen in place.

“Don’t move,” she ordered quietly without any aggression behind her tone. Her face wasn’t threatening, she just looked calm and focused. Allison’s smooth features and peaceful expression was what scared the man the most.

“I- I’m sorry- I didn’t-” he stammered out, his arms and legs beginning to tremble.

“Shh,” Allison chastised as she raised her bow, loading it with an arrow. Her fingers moved with precision, her muscles knew this routine well.

“Please don’t- no, you can’t, you can’t do this!” the man pleaded. He wasn’t above begging on his knees, but Allison wasn’t about to give him the chance. Her gaze was sharply focused on her target, the view of her tightly grasped bow in her peripheral vision.

“Nous chassons ceux qui nous chassent.”

When Allison’s fingers let go of the bowstring the arrow flew smoothly through the air. The only sounds heard were the arrowhead piercing skin and the man wordlessly falling to the ground. The arrow went straight through his heart. Maybe Allison’s shot landed right where she intended. Maybe there was a metaphor in there. Allison checked her wristwatch, the numbers 6:45 shining back at her. An entire hour to spare.

Time to take out the trash.

I've cleaned enough houses to know how to cover up a scene

The job didn’t take long at all and it was definitely one of Allison’s least challenging ones, but it still felt nice to take a hot shower and sit in front of her fireplace with a cup of tea. The fire served a dual purpose; the crackles of the burning wood soothed her like a lullaby while the flames licked around and destroyed her bloody clothes from earlier. All of her equipment had been cleaned and put away, positioned exactly as it had been before. Everything was the same, nothing changed or out of place. There was just one less heartbeat in the world that night.

Good thing Este's sister's gonna swear she was with me

On the second day of the trial, Rebecca Baker’s lawyers were throwing whatever they could against the wall to see if something would stick. That morning they began to argue that Allison Argent might’ve abducted and murdered Justin Smith in retaliation for y/n’s disappearance. It was all speculation at best, but the theory unfortunately made sense to the jury. Before things could get too far, the prosecution called its first witness of the day to the stand.

“Mrs. Martin, where were you on the night of Mr. Smith’s suspected disappearance?” the prosecution lawyer questioned calmly.

“I was with Allison at my house. We were having a girls night in, you can check my security cameras,” Lydia answered confidently. Lydia still had a pocketful of favors from her MIT days, so when the jurors were shown the clips from Lydia’s home security cameras, they saw exactly what they would’ve expected based on Lydia’s testimony.

Truth be told, Lydia didn’t know anything about what happened that night; including Allison’s whereabouts and any details related to Justin’s alleged demise. All she knew was that Allison called and asked for a simple favor - an alibi for just a few hours. Lydia didn’t ask questions and Allison didn’t give answers.

Good thing his mistress took out a big life insurance policy

On the third day of the trial, Rebecca Baker took the stand. Her lawyers tried to help her as best they could, but the prosecution was ruthless. All of the evidence was circumstantial at best - all parties, including the judge and jurors, knew that - but it was enough to make everyone reconsider the spotless image the defense had tried to create for Ms. Baker.

“Ms. Baker, is it true that you knowingly engaged in a romantic relationship while Justin Smith was married to and living with his wife?” another one of the prosecution’s attorneys began.

“Yes,” Rebecca replied meekly. Allison internally scoffed from her seat in the gallery. She found irony in the fact that Rebecca didn’t find any humility or shame in sleeping with another woman’s husband until she was under oath.

“Is it also true that within approximately a week of Mrs. y/l/n’s disappearance, you moved into Mr. Smith and Mrs. y/l/n’s house?”

“That is correct,” Rebecca said as she began to wring her hands together anxiously. The judge tapped his wrist watch and shot a stern look towards the prosecutor. The man nodded in response and continued to his final points.

“I’ll wrap up my questions for you, Ms. Baker. Can you confirm that shortly after moving in with Mr. Smith, multiple legal and financial arrangements and adjustments were made? And these new arrangements make you the sole beneficiary of Mr. Smith’s life issuance policy, assets, and investments?”

By the end of the prosecution’s final question, every jury member and spectator sat up straighter and waited to hear Rebecca’s response with bated breath. The blonde ball of nerves sighed defeatedly before turning to face the attorney directly as she answered his question.

“Yes, that’s true.”

“No further questions, your honor.” As the lead prosecutor returned to the plaintiff’s table, Rebecca’s attorney stood up to address the judge.

“Your honor, the defense would like to request a brief recess,” the defense attorney nearly pleaded. Though his poker face was much better than his client’s, it was clear that he was getting nervous.

“We’ll reconvene in 15 minutes,” the judge ordered with a stern glare cast towards Rebecca.

They think she did it but they just can't prove it

It soon became clear to Rebecca that the recess her legal team requested was nothing more than a “kiss your dignity goodbye” meeting. If she hadn’t been queasy before the recess was called, she definitely was upon re-entering the courtroom.

The rest of the trial seemed to move in slow motion for Rebecca. A few more witnesses were called to the stand, more lackluster evidence was presented, both sides made their closing arguments, and the jury left to discuss the verdict. After what felt like an eternity, the jury returned with an official decision.

Silence settled over the room as a single juror stood to address the court.

“The jury finds the defendant not guilty on count 1 of murder in the first degree based on lack of sufficient evidence. The jury finds the defendant not guilty on count 2 of kidnapping based on lack of sufficient evidence. The jury finds the defendant guilty on count 3 of insurance fraud based on…”

The rest of the jurors’ statement sounded like white noise to Rebecca. She was just barely coherent enough to hear the judge deliver her punishment a few minutes later. $50,000 fine and 200 hours of community service.

Allison stuck around to the bitter end of the trial to hear the verdict in person. In all honesty, Allison didn’t want Rebecca to go to jail. It wouldn’t be right for her to serve time for a crime she didn’t commit, but Allison did find satisfaction in the fact that Rebecca would soon be picking up garbage in a fluorescent orange vest.

After the majority of the spectators had vacated the courtroom gallery, Allison leisurely gathered her things. Justice had been served to Justin, she personally made sure of that, and now justice had been served to Rebecca. The blonde and brunette women briefly locked eye contact as Allison made her way towards the exit.

“You did this,” Rebecca whispered to Allison. Suddenly, it was like a flip switched within her. One moment she was numb, yet calm and collected, and the next moment she was screaming (literal) bloody murder and had to be held back by her lawyers.

“YOU DID THIS! YOU KILLED JUSTIN, YOU BITCH!” Rebecca cried, though her words fell on deaf ears. Allison exited the courtroom with her head held high as the courtroom deputy and defense lawyers did their best to calm the hysterical woman.

She thinks I did it but she just can't prove it

A week later the court case was still on Allison’s mind but the emotional scars had begun to scab. Healing was never a straight or smooth path, Allison had learned that the hard way over the years, but this was a start.

y/n’s landlord had been generous enough to allow Allison to gather y/n’s things before he cleaned out the house for new renters. As Allison walked through the home she once considered to be an extension of her own, she felt her throat dry out and tighten up. She hadn’t realized she was crying until she was wiping salty tears off of the picture frames she’d carefully picked up. Each photo unlocked a new memory, some even elicited a chuckle out of Allison amidst her tears.

A photo from y/n’s wedding day stood out among all the rest as Allison’s eyes jumped from frame to frame. It was a candid shot Lydia had taken while they were in y/n’s dressing room before the ceremony. y/n looked as beautiful as ever in her flowy white gown and Allison’s mulberry maid of honor dress complemented it well. As Allison put the final touches on y/n’s hair and makeup, y/n fastened the clasp of a custom necklace behind Allison’s neck. On a thin, medium-length chain hung an arrowhead from the first time Allison had ever tried to teach y/n how to shoot a bow and arrow. y/n failed miserably, but it was a cherished memory for both girls. Since that day, Allison had only taken the necklace off a handful of times.

Allison smiled bittersweetly at the memory and wiped a fresh tear off of the decorative frame before pulling her necklace out from underneath her shirt. She pressed a gentle kiss to the cool silver arrowhead and then to the photo frame, right above y/n’s styled hair.

A feeling that Allison couldn’t quite explain flowed through her body just then; it was like taking a deep breath of fresh air after being stuck underwater or seeing the gentle rays of the sun for the first time after a hurricane, it felt like freedom. Allison felt almost as if y/n was right there next to her, with her head resting on Allison's shoulder and wrapping her arms around the brunette’s torso. In that moment, Allison somehow wordlessly knew with every fiber in her being that y/n was finally at peace.

No, no body, no crime

I wasn't letting up until the day he died

a/n: AHHHH DID YOU LIKE IT? it was kind of a wild ride from start to finish and i definitely shed a few tears while i was writing it. please lmk what you think!

okay, now onto the writing process from hell: i started drafting ideas for the fic on dec. 21 or 22 of 2020, after i put together a mood board. i had written more than half of the fic when i decided i hated it and scrapped the whole thing on xmas eve (~3000 words 🤡). after that i was kinda in a rut and couldn’t decide how i wanted to end the fic so i ended up writing and deleting ~2500 words over the past month and a half. @demxters is an absolute GODDESS and helped me come up with the ending, so i am eternally grateful to her for that. if any of this seems a lil strange it’s probably because i finished writing it at 4:45 a.m. after working on it for 3ish hours straight. have a great day lovelies!

join my tag list!

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goldenretriever-nicknelson · 4 years

Text

Christmas lights (P.P)

A/n: An actual fic that isn’t a blurb?! And on the same day I post a blurb?! I know I’m in shock too haha. Anyway I hope you enjoy this one, it was so cute to write and maybe I got the idea from New Girl who knows. Thank you to @angelhaz11 for reading this for me and telling me it wasn’t bad.

WC: 1.8k

Warnings: Mentions of homesickness, angst but lots of fluffy fluff with Peter

The first snow of the year always looked beautiful in New York. It fluttered down in small flurries, settling onto the sidewalk and roads below. It landed on the warm fabric of your coat as you made your way home from your last class of the semester, a smile on your face despite the chill in the weather.

In a few days you would be going back home for Christmas and you couldn’t wait. You loved being at college and the fact that it was in New York made it all the better, not to mention your friends who made the city feel like a second home to you but you still missed your family. Peter, your best friend and boyfriend for the last few weeks, had noticed how homesick you had been getting towards the holidays and did his best to comfort you with movies and laughter but you knew that the real cure was to be at home.

Peter Parker was your best friend. You had met him on your first day when you’d ended up in the wrong class. You’d accidentally walked into Biochemistry rather than your own major and it was pure luck that the only seat left was next to Peter who was so kind to you that you almost didn’t leave the class when you realised. He’d even escorted you to the right room after and brought you a warm drink because he could see how much you were shaking.

Over the past year you had thought and hoped that maybe something else would come of yours’s and Peter’s friendship but you also knew you couldn’t afford to mess up what you had with him. Peter was your anchor in the rough stormy sea that was college and you were his especially when it came to Spider-Man stuff. Sometimes there were moments like when he cuddled up to you one movie night or when you could have sworn his gaze had lingered on you but then everything would be normal and you’d know it was just your imagination.

That was until late one night, a few weeks after you had found out he was Spider-man. You were helping him fix himself up as you usually found yourself doing when you felt Peter’s lips kiss your cheek. You had blushed like crazy before feeling a rush in your heart.

You weren’t sure what had prompted your next words but you had never looked back on them since.

“You missed.”

Peter looked at you in confusion before you cupped his cheek and pulled him in for a kiss. He gasped in surprise before melting into with a large smile as he kissed you back.

And that’s how you had gone from oblivious idiot best friend to Peter Parker’s girlfriend.

~~~~~

Over the next few days, the snow only got heavier and what was once small flurries became a snowstorm. You sighed as you looked out of the window, your grip almost too tight on the mug in your hands as worry overtook your brain, so much so that you didn’t even notice the door open.

“That was awesome!”

You looked over to see Peter and Ned walking into the common room, covered in snow from head to toe and laughing loudly about the snowball fight they’d just had. They did their handshake before parting ways as Ned went to change out his snow covered clothes whilst Peter walked over to you.

“Hey Y/n you’ll never believe-” Peter stopped as he got a better look at your face; your eyes were puffy and red and a single tear was running down your cheek. He took your free hand in his gloved one and squeezed. “What’s wrong?”

You sniffled and shook your head, looking away from him. “Just allergies.” You lied, taking a shaky breath as you held onto Peter’s hand tighter than you meant to. You should have known that he knew better than to believe you.

“Please talk to me angel.”

You couldn’t help but smile at the small pet name Peter had given you. He said it one night as you were patching him up after a rough fight and the smile on your face was enough for him to want to call you it all the time especially if you were sad. He noticed the same smile as you looked back at him and his heart lifted.

“I-I’m not going home for the holidays.” You admitted as another tear fell down your cheek and you wrapped your free arm around yourself.

“What? Why not?” Peter knew the answer as soon as he asked. Your eyes darted towards the window watching as the snow came down heavier by the minute. “Angel I’m so sorry.”

You shook your head and kept your eyes on the storm of snow that was brewing. “We used to watch the first snowfall from our window and we’d always have our special hot chocolates.” Peter’s eyes glanced down at the cup in your hand, the last bits of steam pouring out from the last bit of hot chocolate.

Without saying another word Peter wrapped his arms around you. You sniffled again before leaning into him and crying onto his shoulder, neither of you caring about the snow that got on your sweater.

You stayed like that for a while, Peter holding you tight and humming softly until you began to calm down. Your cries and sobs reduced to small sniffles as you pulled away, blushing as you saw the wet patch you’d left on Peter’s sweater.

“I-I’m sorry.”

Peter quickly shook his head and rubbed your arm. “Hey, don’t worry about it. I have plenty of sweaters.” He chuckled, hoping you would return the smile but if anything your face fell more.

“We always had this tradition where we’d drive around and see all the christmas lights in the city. I was hoping they’d be able to come and see New York.” You sighed and looked out of the window, knowing in a few hours the city would be lit up like a beautiful painting especially with the christmas lights that lined the streets during this time of the year.

Peter sat and listened to you, comforting you the best he could and wiping away the oncoming tears but eventually the homesickness got too much for you.

“I think I just need some space.”

Peter nodded and was about to tell you he understood but you were gone before he could speak. He watched you head off to your room, a plan already forming in his mind to cheer you up.

It was a few hours later when you heard a knock on your window, nearing the dead of night. You wiped your eyes and furrowed your brow, choosing to ignore it at first, thinking it must have been the wind. Then another knock came, louder and more persistent.

You opened your curtain, your eyes widening as you saw Peter in his suit. You quickly opened your window, welcoming the cold chill into your room.

“Peter what the-?”

“Hey princess. I’m here to steal you away.”

You let out a giggle of disbelief and wrapped your sweater tighter around yourself. Peter smiled as you giggled and took your hand.

“Come on, we need to go or we’re gonna miss it.”

“Miss what?” You hummed in confusion as he pulled you out and wrapped his arms around you.

“You’ll see.” He gave you a wink through his mask before shooting a web and starting to swing down the street. You let out a scream and held onto him tight, keeping your eyes closed.

Peter only laughed as he kept moving, holding onto you tightly and enjoying this moment. He loved swinging around the city at night especially around christmas with all the lights.

“Open your eyes.” He whispered above the noise of the wind and you smiled as you heard him, peeking one eye open just enough to see all the lights pass by.

“Woah.” Peter smiled as you finally opened your eyes, holding on extra tight to him as you watched the world pass you both by.

Peter landed on a street nearby and kissed your head, making sure you were okay. He laughed as you kept your tight hold on him before looking around as your feet hit solid ground.

“Oh my god! Never again Pete.” You laughed and looked up at him, seeing that he was gazing at you lovingly. You blushed and tucked your hair behind your ear. “What?”

“I like seeing you smile.”

Your blush got deeper at his words and you lightly smacked him on the chest before kissing his cheek through the mask, making it his turn to blush. "I love you dork.”

“I love you too.” Peter smiled and took your hand, leading you to stand in the middle of the street.

You realised it was empty aside from a few squirrels and birds, circling the trees. Snow was coating the road and sidewalk as it continued to fall around you. It reminded you of back home.

“What are we doing here?” You asked Peter, squeezing his hand. He swung your hands between you as he looked around.

“Wait for it.” Peter kept his eyes on the houses, humming a Christmas song under his breath before checking the time. “Anytime now.”

As if on cue, Christmas music started playing through a speaker as the first house lit up brightly with Christmas lights. And then another house lit up and another, all in time to the music. You squeezed Peter’s hand in surprise and gasped, smiling wide.

“It’s beautiful.” You whispered, watching as the whole street lit up before your eyes.

Peter watched your face light up along with the street, your smile shining impossibly brighter than any of the lights. He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close, catching you by surprise.

“I know you can’t go home for the holidays so I wanted to bring a bit of home to you.”

You sniffled and smiled wide, lifting Peter’s mask up just enough to uncover his lips. “You are my home.”

Peter blushed and smiled softly at your words before your lips met. The kiss was enough to warm you both up in the midst of the cold winter chill even as snow continued to fall on you. You held each other close as the music played and the lights surrounded you.

When you finally pulled away for air, you rested your forehead against Peter’s and smiled goofily with a giggle. Peter looked at you like the whole world rested in your eyes and for him, it did.

You were still sad about not going home but you knew that you had a home here with Peter and it was enough. He even invited you to May’s for Christmas dinner with Tony and Pepper so you could still have your family dinner that you loved.

Just as you and Peter were cuddling and full of food, the door to the apartment opened and you heard the familiar voices of your family enter. You gasped and jumped up, running to hug them as they smiled at you.

“H-how are you guys here?”

You sniffled and kept ahold of them as they looked over at Peter who blushed. He walked over and greeted them.

“You did this?”

“Mr Stark helped me but yeah. I know how much being with family at Christmas means to you.” Peter blushed and kissed your cheek, smiling softly.

You shook your head with a large smile before wrapping your arms tightly around your perfect boyfriend. You had both of your homes in one place, it was the perfect Christmas.

“I love you Peter Parker.”

“I love you more Y/n L/n.”

~~~~~

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youarejesting · 4 years

Text

BTS Seoul mates: Dulcet Couple.5

[MASTERLIST]

Beta: @xiaokoo Pairing: Yoongi x Reader Genre: Romance, comedy, angst, fluff, soulmate au Words: 1.1k

Summary: You were connect through music. Yoongi a member of BTS and a music producer was having trouble concentrating. If he sang baby shark one more time he would pour hot coffee over his computer and give up his career to hunt you down personally.

You were happy to see the bags under Aster’s eyes had faded a little and you were also surprised to see Alexa standing in the entrance with Adora. The two were wearing masks, “You can’t leave for two weeks due to quarantine but after that, you should be free to visit the town. Just remember to wear your masks girls.” Adora said with a sweet reprimanding tone.

Adora waved goodbye saying she would come around one afternoon to have tea, before heading back out into the corridor.

It was kind of funny how silent it was, it must have really sucked being the last soulmate to join the house so you took it upon yourself to make Alexa feel at home.

“Since Alexa is the last one to join the house it must feel a bit intimidating or exclusive so let’s all try to be nice and accommodating to her. I know I would feel odd being last, so I will give Alexa the tour of the house. How about you all prepare some snacks and drinks and maybe we can sit and get to know one another?” You gave out some jobs and realised you probably should check in with Alexa, “Unless you would like some time to freshen up or rest?”

“Uh, I am a bit jet lagged but I would like to hole out until it’s night time to go to sleep try to assimilate this new sleep schedule” Alexa gave a bright grin as she looked around, “This place is really pretty, I would love a tour?”

“Sweet, this way we will show you to your new bedroom.” you smiled, leading her through the house and explaining the rooming situation. “We thought you would like your own room, so we gave you Imogen’s old room.”

“Thank you, you didn’t have to. I don’t mind and I don’t want to burden anyone by being here,” Alexa moved with certainty. She was poised unlike her clumsy counterpart and reminded them of a really tan vampire. Her dark hair and eyes were sultry. She felt like someone tough who could protect you.

The tour ended with Alexa unpacking and handing out a few gifts to the girls, some got bath bombs others received scented candles. She had given Aster a weighted blanket that she said might help her fall asleep when she was on her own. “Wait we didn’t get you a gift?” Aster said a little disappointed, Aster loved giving gifts more than she received them. You believed giving gifts was how Aster showed her love, but how she received it was almost identical to Jimin receiving praise. Yoongi also liked words of praise even if he didn’t admit it but he prefered to show you how much he loved you from acts of service. Getting things you need and being there to help with jobs. He liked to be a silent helper, not to draw too much attention to himself.

“That’s okay, it is my culture to give gifts when meeting your inlaws and well I consider you part of Namjoon’s family” Alexa smiled, the group sat in the lounge room talking and eating snacks. It started to rain late into the afternoon and as the evening drew near the power went out.

“We could play a game.”

“Sure what game?”

“Monopoly?”

“No to high stress.”

“What about scrabble?”

“It’s in Korean.”

“Yeah scratch that.”

“Hmm, we could play bts uno?” Imogen laughed, cutting through the chaos by holding up the pack of cards and searching everyone’s faces for confirmation.

“Sure,” everyone seemed to agree. It didn’t take long for you all to grow comfortable with one another. The sound of someone's stomach growling caught your attention, “we should make dinner,” Thank gosh the portable gas stove was stored in the cupboard. Lighting candles around the room, you began preparing some ramen for everyone to enjoy.

They all seemed to grow more excited as the aroma of the noodles filled the room, carrying the pot over and placing it on the pot cloth to protect the wood you each began eating, their fill.

The sound of keys jingling in the door across the hall alerted them to the boys finally returning home, there was a knock and beau rushed to the door and opened it.

“Welcome back!” She chimed and Taehyung was quick to enter smelling the ramen and sitting behind Iris and stealing some of her noodles.

“They were mine, and you didn’t even say hi to me.” She pouted.

“I am sorry my love, I saw you were eating ramen and I was so hungry,” Taehyung apologised pulling her into his lap, squeezing her tightly.

“Next time I will eat with my eyes closed and then you won’t see anything,” she said closing her eyes “what do you see now huh?”

“I see the most beautiful girl in my world, the love of my life,” he kissed Iris’ lips.

You got up abandoning the noodles and heading to the boys dorm where Yoongi was dropping his things off in his room. He knew it would be loud in the other dorm so preferred to stay clear of the noise. Leaning your head against the open door you watched him unpack.

“How was the performance?” You asked curiously watching him stretch his shoulders.

“Tiring,” he slumped on the bed. You crawled behind him and began gently massaging his shoulder trying to relieve the pain.

“You need to get this shoulder looked at Yoongi it is causing you so much pain” you spoke softly, it hurt to see your soulmate in pain it became your own pain but worse because you couldn’t ease it you couldn’t take the pain from him, you just had to watch him suffer.

“Just lay with me for a little bit,” Yoongi smiled, laying back and holding you. It was sweet feeling his hand on your waist and his breath against your cheek, it was a little laboured but each exhale came out softer until he had finally relaxed in your arms. “You smell like ramen.”

It made you laugh, but you let him drift off in your arms inhaling the faint ramen seasoning scent of your skin. There was a faint song in your head unlike any you had heard. It didn’t really have a melody, just an odd lyric. ‘She makes me laugh and smile for no reason, she holds me close smelling of ramen season’ It was cute how snuggly he got, almost making you forget everything, but there was still a part of you that wondered what the others were up to.

These thoughts don’t last long as you start to drift off with Yoongi lying against you, your last thought is trying to heal his soul. Being close to your soulmate does wonders for your health but you doubted it could reverse the damage inflicted on his shoulder.

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criticalroleisdestroyingme · 3 years

Text

Oh Death

She said to me

"Oh, Death

Come close my eyes, woah"

I know, I'm more fool than wise

After losing the Mighty Nein in Nicodranas, Astrid and Eadwulf are sent on their next assignment. Tracking a loose end in the Frozen North, they stumble across a few more surprises, and the pieces start to add up.

The aforementioned songfic of "Oh Death" by SUGR?. Canon divergent at the end of C2E131. Written from the perspective of a highly angsty Astrid with plenty of Blumendrei and Shadowgast. Advice for Essek based on this post by @slayerscake.

A note to those who count the words of Sending - I kept it accurate to where Matt took a pause for Astrid’s Sending back to Jester, of 26 and 24.

Read more below!

Oh, when I see her looking at me

You best believe

She's only looking past me

What a mess Bren left behind him before he again vanished to the North. It took a full day for Trent’s ire to settle from a raging forest fire into a controlled burn, sending his operatives to seek out their trail. Curiously, Trent did not allow any others into his vault to pick up any trace of Bren - he must have found the amulets, otherwise the search would have been simple. It didn’t take a spymaster to determine what else Bren must have spirited away to send him on such a determined chase, and Wulf quickly agreed that whether intentional or not, Bren now had in his possession the most damning evidence of the enhancements all Volstrucker wore beneath their skin.

Was this their chance to finally…? Bren hadn’t reacted the way she hoped during their meeting, eyebrows furrowing as she had quietly whispered her seditious musings in his ear. He didn’t trust her, didn’t trust them, of course he shouldn’t, Wulf added. She bitterly hoped their actions in Nicodranas would cement that trust, but maybe Bren no longer operated on their wavelength. He couldn’t, shouldn’t allow himself to trust his compromised classmates, only using them for his ends before moving on to that thing that was so much bigger, so much nobler. His eyes never truly met hers as they waltzed, staring through her skull, focused on his own goals, convinced he would be saving the world. She had shared the contents of the meeting with Wulf, of course, but not that wave of guilt that had surged through her for forcing her ambition onto him, collapsing in the alleyway after leaving the dancehall. He had moved on, had so many bigger things to deal with than the crimes of a single man and petty politics.

After dispatching two agents to the coast to board a ship, she was again summoned to Trent’s side with Wulf. Darktow, really Bren? The ruse had seemed so obvious from their clandestine conversation about his goal, but her master was determined to contain the leak and to Trent, no lead was worth overlooking. Trent had hissed that their next assignment was to pay a visit to that Crick loose end, since they were clearly too compromised to be trusted with more important missions. The traitor’s position was confirmed via scry to be in the heart of Eiselcross - fortuitous to be so near to Bren’s destination. Maybe after they dispatch the Shadowhand, they could seek him again, Wulf suggested, and finalize plans to rid the world of another corrupted mage.

She said to me

"Oh, Death

Come close my eyes, woah"

I know, I'm more fool than wise

Her trail goes cold a few hours after they pass through the mountain range ringing the crash site of Aeor, but they’re nearly to Kryn outpost, which was still the best place to check first. Recent reports indicated the drow was getting twitchy (reasonably so, she thought), so it came as no surprise that he had procured divination wards on his latest visit back to Ghor Dranas. Strange that he had not engaged them until after his position was reconfirmed in the frozen north, and the coincidence tickles the back of her mind. She and Wulf decide to press on towards the outpost regardless - to relay this to Trent before confirming the target’s position by eye would earn them a scathing reply.

Easily obscured by invisibility, they slip past the spires of ice ringing the Xhorhassian outpost once they arrive. After around fifteen minutes, they spot the Shadowhand as he exits his chambers and rushes to the storerooms, reemerging a few minutes later with supplies for travel and a heavier mantle. Good, it should be a simple task to take out him and whatever scouts accompany him, rather than dealing with the entire outpost. He lingers outside his chambers, discussing something with the captain of the guard too quietly to be heard from their position on the outskirts. Wulf creeps forward to listen in as she maintains her position, memorizing the guard patrols out of pure habit. She’s making a mental map of the outpost when a familiar but unexpected voice creeps in.

“It’s me… Jester-” whispers into her mind, followed by… a fit of giggles? “Hey, I don’t know if you’re alone. If.. you’re.. not-” another fit. How did Bren’s companions get anything done? “-and you’re following us…” the longest pause yet. Should she start her reply? What did the woman even want? As she opens her mouth to speak, eyes on the perimeter for any unforeseen patrols, it finally comes in. “Clear your throat,” she chokes out amid giggles, “if you’re not following us.”

“I’m so very…” lost? Disturbed? Overwhelmed by the lack of any meaningful information presented in those twenty-five words? “Confused.” She settles on. “What did you say?” Entertaining further conversation in spite of her location may not have been wise, but she couldn’t help herself, needing to know Bren’s next move.

“Sorry-” Warranted. “I need to know if you’re following us. If you know where we are. What’s the plan with you guys? Hope you’re alone! If you’re not-” the message cuts out. She rubs her temples, considering her response a moment. How to impress upon her the importance of what her party now carried with them, what she wanted them to accomplish? This was going to take more than one message, she thought, pulling her wire free from her components.

“A Volstrucker has never disentangled from Trent before. No one who knows what he does, how he breaks us, has shared their trauma with the world,” effortlessly continuing her response with another Sending, “with the king. Imagine the threat you are to him, now that you carry respect of both Crown and Kryn. So, yes,” she concludes, “he’s invested.” Was it enough? No further response.

“Who was that?” Wulf’s voice shocks her as he returns, still cloaked in his invisibility.

“Bren’s companions. The tiefling.”

“Ah,” he grunts. Lingers in silence for a moment. “Will he…?”

“I don’t know,” she admits. Glad to still be invisible, despite Wulf knowing exactly the look on her face. Probably has the same look on his. Her hand reaches out, contacting his upper arm blindly, then gives it a rub. “Later. Our target?”

“Too far, too quiet. Something about the ruin; an entrance his rangers are guarding.”

“Well then, we will have to make our move during his journey to them,” she replies, not keen on chasing this wizard into the depths of Aeor. A grunt of agreement, and they settle together, crouched on the icy ground, awaiting further movement of the traitor and his forces. A few more minutes and the guard captain nods and walks away, barking orders in Undercommon to his men, and the Shadowhand floats alone outside his door. His hand raises to knock, lowers, raises once more, then softly taps the door before opening it.

“He’s not alone in there,” Wulf interprets easily. She squints her eyes, trying to block the glare of the snow and ice to spot the reason for his hesitation, but the low-lit room gave up no secrets before the door closed behind him. Another minute and the door reopens, and neither Volstrucker notices the Shadowhand’s relaxed shoulders as he drifts out, sucking air through their teeth at the sight of who follows him.

Oh, I- I- I- I- I- I- I never wanted anything as little as I want this now

Oh, I- I- I- I- I take my pistol, gonna make you proud

“We should have known, we should have fucking known-” Wulf spits as they tail the group to the northwest, the pair’s white cloaks obscuring them well at this distance.

“Shh! Let me think.” Her words bite at her own tongue, mind racing. It was so obvious - Bren’s party spent so much time in Xhorhas, were so close to the Bright Queen herself that their word alone was enough to halt a full scale attack on the capital. Of course they would know the Shadowhand, at least know of him, and with their connection in the North from the Empire extinguished, of fucking course they would be allying with the Dynasty once more. The source of the Shadowhand’s protection from divination was now also unfortunately obvious - he had been recruited by the team to go stop the supposed end of the world.

This was going to get messy. It would be impossible to take out the Shadowhand without alerting Bren to their presence. How could they convince Bren to work alongside them to expose Trent if they ended up in battle against him? “Scheiße,” she hissed, Wulf growling in agreement.

She wondered what the Shadowhand would be getting in return for his assistance. Protection from the assassins hot on his trail? Yes, but surely this master manipulator would have gotten more out of the deal than that. The drow had fooled his entire country, betrayed his own religion, just for the sake of some arcane research.

She smirked, jaw clicking into place. That’s it. He’s a traitor to his own nation. Make him confess to it, surely Bren would want him dead as well after learning their ally was a conspirator with the Assembly, had stolen the beacons his group worked so hard to return to the Kryn. They could still make this work, and come out of Eiselcross both having completed their current mission and securing Bren, all of them, as allies in their next.

Wulf growled again, pulling her from her thoughts. Looking back at the Shadowhand, he had fallen in line with Bren and was conversing while they pressed onward, taking comfort in a glowing orb he held outside his mantle. Bren had moved in shoulder to shoulder with the drow, leaning in and wrapping his hand around the drow’s forearm in a supposed bid to get closer to the source of light. His group carried on ahead of them, saying nothing as they snuck glances back towards the pair. She felt her cheek burn where Bren had previously leaned his face on hers during their waltz. Wulf was saying something but the blood pounding in her head was far too loud.

She said to me

"Oh, Death

It's way too wet on your cheeks to be nothing"

But what does she know?

Really, what does she know?

The troupe had slowed for a short rest now, and she crept closer unthinking, Wulf trailing behind her. The cold wind whipped her hood back and pulled her light locks free, carrying snips of conversation back to them. “The- I’m sorry, the lesbians?”

“Yes, Yasha there and Expositor Lionett. They’re quite capable on the frontline, and often I find the best means of dealing damage to the enemy is through enhancing their abilities and staying out of sight. So ja, buff the lesbians.” Concluding with a pat on the Kryn’s forearm, Bren appeared to finally spot his hand’s location and jolt back, sheepish grin mirroring one she had not seen for years since she caught him and Wulf outside her dormitory door with a bottle of whisky and a proposal. That pink tint to his cheeks is visible from here, betraying his intentions so plainly. Betraying them. Betraying her.

“I- I see. Any other... tips I should be aware of?” the Shadowhand had asked, looking to the rest of the group and quickly pulling the orb back towards himself once Bren had released him, before thinking and proffering it to the others. Her own cheek stung still. To her side, Wulf reached over and too-gently touched it, rubbing away a layer of ice built up. The half-orc sat up from his resting point across from them, putting his hands towards the orb without any comment on the pair’s previous position.

“Ah, yes - while Jester is a cleric,” he intoned, leaning towards the blue tiefling gently, “try to go unconscious near Caduceus.”

“Fjord!”

“What?! You prefer a more… proactive approach to battle!”

Soothing with a hand on her shoulder, the gray firbolg also leans in and places a teapot atop the orb. “The Wildmother is interested in preserving the natural cycle of life, and if it is not your time, She will not let you pass. At least, not while I have anything to say about it.”

Bren had pulled away now, eyes softening as he looked between the drow and the rest of the group. She drew a wire from her pocket and she took a breath, steeling herself before casting Sending once more.

“Bren.” He stiffened stick-straight. “Do not be alarmed. Wulf and I are approaching your position.” She paused. “Just us. We wish to speak.” She does not trust herself to use the remaining words without stumbling.

“Caleb? Trent again? Or...” The Cobalt Soul expositor perked up, but Bren had lifted a hand to her and shook his head.

“Astrid.” Came clear into her mind as she heard the monk curse in the distance. “If it is just the two of you, please approach. I’m sure our company raises questions.” A pause of his own. “You could have told Jester you were here.”

Overlapping Bren’s voice, Wulf whispers, “What are you doing?” but she’s already stood tall and pushed her hair from her eyes.

“Just trust me.”

Oh, I- I- I- I- I never wanted it to be this way

Oh, you know I- I- I- I hold on to everything you say

“Shadowhand to the Bright Queen, Essek Thelyss. Please meet my, ah, associates Astrid and Eadwulf of the Dwendalian Empire.” Bren gestures. They had all stood as the Volstrucker approached, remaining in their previous circle, but the halfling had drawn her crossbow from her hip and the dark woman had also unsheathed a gleaming blade.

Careful with his words, as if his present company could be spooked like a horse, the Shadowhand spoke with low, smooth tones. “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” His eyes betrayed his tone, flitting towards each of Bren’s group in turn. “To what do we owe this visit?”

She smiled coolly. “There is no need for deception here, Herr Thelyss. In fact, it would benefit us all to be forthright. You needn’t pretend this is our first encounter.”

These words should have shook the Kryn to the core, so blunt and expository, the jaws of her trap slowly ratcheting open. His demeanor had not shifted, however, as Bren glanced between the two. “Fair enough, Madam Beck.” The Nein jumped slightly at this, far more than her initial reveal. Had Bren never shared her last name with his companions? “And Mister Grieve, I assume you are well?”

“Well enough in this frozen waste,” was Wulf’s gruff reply, arms crossed to the left and slightly behind her, but within her field of view.

“Then please, join our circle,“ came Bren’s voice, shaking surely due to the cold. She stepped forward at the invitation, and took the space to his other side, the halfling stepping aside but cautiously keeping a hand on the base of her crossbow. “Come now, Veth, there’s no need for that among friends.” Wulf stepped through the circle, taking a position next to the firbolg he liked so much during that dinner before. “We have plenty to share, and I’m sure they do as well.”

Bren always had such a way with words, she thought. Certainly better than Wulf, a perfect voice to tug at one’s heartstrings. He could say so much with so little. If there is any love left between us, cursing his words as they came back to her. Perhaps he was even greater a manipulator than the spymaster to his right. Plenty of love was left, it seemed, but how much belonged to her?

“Ohmigosh Astrid, we are so happy to see you! Why didn’t you say you were close before? We could have been traveling together this whole time!“ the tiefling bubbled, a little too enthusiastically. She was no fool.

“My apologies, Jester.” She gave another cool smile, then directed her gaze around Bren to settle on the drow once more. “There were matters we had to confirm before we could make our presence known to you and Bren.” He stiffened alongside Bren, glancing down at the other wizard with a question in his eyes, and her smile turned slightly more predatory. “Herr Thelyss, might I inquire as to your business in Eiselcross? Seeking additional Beacons, I presume?”

The level of confusion did not rise in the group as she expected, however. The Shadowhand’s eyes narrowed and turned back to her as she pressed further. “Had the Martinet not already promised to share our research?”

“Astrid.”

Bren stepped forward, blocking her line of sight to the Kryn.

“Caleb, please.” A dark hand touched his shoulder (how dare he, her fingers twitched), pushing the man back towards his previous position. “Madam Beck,” he continued, “your insinuations would be quite dangerous in almost any circle but this one.” His shoulders back, he lifted slightly higher off the ground. “I am not interested in being toyed with. Clearly you were sent to dispose of me, so go ahead. Complete your business. But do not waste my friends’ time with your attempts to reveal that which is no longer concealed from them.”

He knew? Bren fucking knew? They all knew what this man had done and walked out into a frozen hellhole with him? Showed him trust, and affection of all things? Her mind swam, staring her target in his face as she searched for any fracture, any sign of weakness. He can’t possibly have told them everything. How could they forgive him for starting the war they had foolishly pledged to end on their own? How could Bren trust him, but not-

“It’s true, Astrid.” Bren said softly in that verdammt voice. “We caught on before the peace talks out at sea. Lord Dezran Thain,” he gave the honorific a teasing lilt, “was a bit too careless. He should not have chosen to be a lord in a city in which he did not know of its main attraction.” He smiled towards Jester.

“Yeah, I don’t know of a single person from Nicodranas who doesn’t know my mamma. Sorry Essek,” she winked at him. He gave an awkward smile in response. Silence hung over the group for a moment.

Wulf finally piped up again. “Well, you’re correct that we were here to kill the Shadowhand.” The group quickly tightened at his words, apart from the firbolg who still stood beside him casually, focused on making tea in that pot on top of the orb. “But... how we do that now is a mystery to me.” His lazy glance cast over her, then Bren, then narrowing briefly on the traitor. He gave a shrug as he unceremoniously sat in the snow. “So let’s talk.”

“Yes, I think there’s much to discuss,” the firbolg said, pulling the now-warm pot from the orb and beginning to pour cups. He smiled towards her sympathetically, somehow looking through her and reaching across the circle with a mug before sitting back and offering another to Wulf. She took it delicately, glancing at the pattern of soft petals on a dark branch.

As the other cups were passed out and the group slowly sat back down, Wulf popped open his flask and poured his whisky into the cup until it reached the brim, then capped it and flicked it across the circle to her. Barely looking up from the cup, she caught the flask mid-air with practiced precision, choosing to take a swig from it directly rather than sullying the tea. A calloused hand with blackened fingertips entered her view from the left as she tilted her head back down. Requesting, but not demanding. Too kind, too tender, and it made her heart ache as the liquor burned her throat. Not meeting his eyes, she passed the flask along.

“Prost.”

Oh, k- k- k- k- k- keep your pity to yourself

Oh, I'll make you wish that you didn't love someone else

#c2e131 #cr spoilers #fanfic #astrid #eadwulf #caleb widogast #blumendrei #blumentrio #essek thelyss #shadowgast #first published fic please be kind #my brain would not calm down until i had written this out #and it might pursue this further while i wait for an account on ao3

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luna-tiel · 4 years

Text

What Entrapdak Means to Me

On the eve of Entrapdak Positivity Month, I thought it was as good a time as any to share my rambling thoughts on a ship that’s affected me in a way I didn’t think was possible.

Entrapdak is the first ship I have ever been invested in. It’s such a new experience for me that it’s taken me the last few months to wrap my head around the whole thing. I may relate to the characters in a show, but when they form romantic attachments I view it with a degree of passive distance. I don’t understand what it’s like to have those sorts of feelings for someone (I am aromantic and ace as a brick), and, well, I’m honestly not curious enough to give the subject a thorough study. My mind tends to fixate on other things.

What does this have to do with Entrapdak, you ask? Long story short for people who don’t want to read my meandering essay -- I relate a lot to these characters, and the way they bonded together struck a deep chord in me that I can’t ignore.

Let’s start with the characters. I knew going in that Entrapta was neurodivergent-coded, but I took it with a grain of salt. When I actually watched the show, however, I found myself relating to her so deeply it shocked me. Never have I felt such a kinship with a fictional character! We don’t share every trait, but it was still like seeing my brain put to life on screen. I related to her enthusiasm over her special interests, her struggles to fit in, her desire to make friends who accept and understand her for who she is.

The fact Entrapta is completely herself is something I love about her. Over the years of growing up undiagnosed, I developed a lot of masking strategies. Human psychology is one of my special interests, and even with all that accumulated knowledge, masking isn’t easy. It’s extremely mentally taxing. Masking can certainly look easy -- I can, when I have the drive and energy, “pass” as neurotypical, and only people who know me extremely well can tell I’m dying inside. All that effort is taken for granted by a lot of NTs because that’s how people are “supposed to” act, and surely I can “do the bare minimum.” The accumulated stress of near constant masking has led me to the darkest moments I’ve had in my life.

Entrapta’s struggle with leaving Beast Island hit me hard. It threw me back to a time when my feelings of isolation and worthlessness got so bad that I lost the energy to do anything, even the creative pursuits that were the obsession of my life. I retreated so deeply into my inner world that I hardly interacted with anyone. That total apathy shocked my family into getting me professional help, which gave me my autism diagnosis, the coping skills to move forward, and a good start on the road to self-acceptance. It also opened a channel between my family and I, allowing me to feel heard and understood. (An important side note on mental health: if you or someone you love needs professional help, please seek it! Sometimes you have to try out several therapists -- it took me three to find a good fit -- but you are worth it!)

It took me longer to realize, but I also relate to Hordak in some ways. Mercifully I was not raised in an extremist cult environment. However, I know what it’s like to feel defective next to a sibling that seems perfect. I was constantly being compared to my younger brother, and in all areas but art, he was superior. He was smart, athletic, and above all, he fit in with everyone. I didn’t hate him for this -- I hated myself. Trying to measure up to his standard is what caused me to develop such strong masking strategies. Underneath it all, I felt the despair of knowing my peers would reject me as soon as the mask cracked. I also live with chronic joint pain, starting at around age seven. The jury is still out on what’s causing that (the worst of it was due to a previously unknown food allergy, but the pain still comes and goes, even though it’s a lot more manageable than it used to be). This cocktail of pain, stress, and sensory issues I had to deal with gave me a very short fuse at times.

As an aside, just because I sympathize with Hordak does not mean I am excusing his actions. He is still going to have to face the consequences of his choices, and work to adjust to life post-Prime. The series end gave him a new beginning, the opportunity to be redeemed, and I prefer this to a rushed redemption arc.

What I love most about Hordak and Entrapta’s relationship is how they accept each other as they are. Hordak gives Entrapta near free reign of his sanctum, he listens to her when she talks, and he respects her opinions. Even when he pushes her away, he still considers the logic of what she tells him, and sometimes ends up doing things her way despite his initial instincts. This is something I do in my own life; I am easily overwhelmed by new information, so my initial response to an idea/activity is almost always a firm (and sometimes rude) “no,” until I have time to properly process and think about it. Hordak is the first person in Entrapta’s life that truly listens to her. He still has things he needs to work on, but it’s a lot better than how most of the princesses are with Entrapta. The Alliance treats her as someone to be managed -- she is useful, but unreliable. Hordak, in contrast, trusts her to get things done in her own way.

On the other side, Entrapta is the first person in Hordak’s life to accept him without judgment. Hordak spends so much of his energy putting up a front of strength and intimidation, and Entrapta cuts right through that. She’s not frightened by his appearance, and even his outbursts have little effect on her until the two of them start to bond. Entrapta doesn’t come into their interactions with any preconceived ideas of what Hordak is like, or more importantly, what he should be like. This lack of expectation leaves her completely open to accepting whatever Hordak does and says, and it also relieves Hordak of the burden of needing to put on a front around her. When Entrapta sees him at his most vulnerable, she reaches out to him with compassion, something he has never felt before. Entrapta also does this in a way that doesn’t belittle Hordak. His imperfections are not something to pity, they are a valuable part of who he is.

I loved watching their friendship develop. Entrapta and Hordak’s shared time together evolved slowly into a bond that gave each of them a sense of belonging they had never experienced before with anyone else. It gave me the hope that, despite what an oddball mess I am, perhaps I could find someone who understands me too.

When a romance subplot inserts itself into a story, I tend to gloss over and ignore it (if I pick up on it at all). I’m even less interested in sex. Way back when I was first getting into fandom I was so excited to go online and meet fellow fans of the books and shows I liked, only to discover the spaces being dominated by arguments over character pairings. I was baffled. This is what people are most interested in? Oh well… back to the hermit cave I go!

I was late to the party with SPoP. I’d watched a few episodes, but the show didn’t really hook me. This was partially because all I ever heard people talk about online was Catradora, and if that was the main appeal of the show, I wasn’t sure I would enjoy it (sorry Catradora shippers, romance is not going to entice me to watch a show, even if it’s rep). Quarantine was the ultimate cause for me embracing my curiosity and diving headfirst into SPoP, binging the entire thing a few months before the release of season 5.

I vaguely knew about Entrapdak as a ship going into the show, and I admit, had I not been primed for it, I probably would have missed the romantic potential entirely. In no way did I expect to become invested. I was immediately intrigued by their dynamic, and as they got closer, I found myself thinking “oh, I see why people ship these two.” I didn’t understand this realization until months later. I was relating to the characters, and for the first time in my life, I was relating to their relationship.

I headcanon Entrapta and Hordak as an asexual couple. I’ll elaborate on this at a later time (asexuality is a spectrum with a lot of nuance, and this post is plenty long already), but at the core of it, I find joy in imagining these characters in a loving platonic relationship, something I hope to find myself one day. I hope this love comes across in my artwork and in my fanfictions <3

To those of you that read this far, wow, you must be patient! Have an imaginary cookie! I hope this ramble has provided a decent picture for why I, as an aro ace on the autism spectrum, have come to cherish Hordak and Entrapta’s relationship. It’s my first and only OTP… I’m still in shock thinking about that… I guess we’ll see where things go from here!

Take care of yourselves out there!

#entrapdak #entrapta/hordak #entrapta #hordak #autistic entrapta #autistic experiences #relatable characters #fandom ramblings #spop #spop headcanons #asexual headcanon

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count-woe-laf · 4 years

Text

Who’s your friend?

Prompt 53 from @someonehelp sorry that it took so long and if it’s not what you wanted, I may have accidently written it for @coconut-cluster ‘s battle of the bands au and this post and its tags because my brain could not stop thinking about it. The au is hers and y’all should go check it out, I love it

Thank you @knight-of-cauldrons for helping me with the names and lovely people from the Roman Arson Squad for helping me with other stuff too and @me-a-mess-morelikelythanyouthink for helping me edit stuff and talking about this until 4am with me so I knew what to write, I appreciate it, (also the drumstick things is entirely her fault (maybe a little bit of mine))

Pre-romantic prinxiety, there’s a few swears, very brief mention of murder/death, the ending and middle is a little weak, 1348 words

The blood pumping through Roman's veins, the air in his lungs, the microphone in his hand, the noise of the music and the crowd, the feeling of happiness- of greatness surrounding him. It was in these moments that Roman felt truly alive.

It was the show high and boy was it fun; the world would slow it's spinning, Roman- his bandmates and friends playing behind him- would sing, the crowd would cheer. It was one of the best feelings Roman had ever felt. (He says one of the best because he got a free pink lemonade in the middle of summer once and it was closely tied for one of the best feelings ever.) This great feeling stayed until Roman would get home that night. Even once the audience left he would still feel the burst of happiness in his chest.

The Disasters were spread around the stage, packing up their instruments. Well, Remus and Janus were packing up. Roman didn't have anything to do so he was scrolling through his phone. Virgil was sitting on the edge of the stage, playing around with his sticks, talking to someone from the crowd. Normally Roman wouldn’t pay much attention to them, but he didn't have anything interesting on his phone and his gaze kept drifting towards Virgil.

The guy Virgil was talking to looked around their age; he seemed nice enough, maybe he was being a little too nice for Roman's liking, but that didn't matter, he was just some guy. Some guy that was talking to Virgil, a completely normal conversation. Virgil had conversations all the time. …Did Virgil usually smirk at a stranger's remarks, though? Did he normally let someone try (and fail) to spin his drumsticks, would they laugh afterwards? Roman's after show happiness suddenly disappeared; he instantly realized his night wouldn't be as good as he thought. The amazing feeling was replaced with another that Roman wasn't entirely familiar with. All Roman knew was that it wasn't jealousy.

There was no way it was jealousy, It couldn't be jealousy, jealousy didn't feel like this, did it? No, the feeling in the pit of Roman's stomach wasn't jealousy, he wasn't jealous. There was absolutely no reason for him to be jealous over some hot looking dude talking to Virgil. Roman and Virgil were just friends anyway, he didn't have a reason to be jealous. it didn't matter that Roman's heart stopped when Virgil smiled at him. It didn't matter that Virgil would say one flirty joke and Roman would be distracted for the rest of practice. And it didn't matter that Virgil was one of the few people Roman trusted. None of that mattered, Roman was not jealous. Finding himself walking towards Virgil's spot on the edge of the stage wasn't because he was jealous, it was because he was bored and cared for Virgil's safety talking to random people. Yeah, that sounded about right.

"Well you seem really funny, Virgil, right?"

Virgil stopped spinning his sticks. "Yeah, and your name is…"

"Andy, short for Anderson, it's a dumb name right?" They both let out a short laugh, Andy's laugh was really nice and smooth, way better than Roman's dorky one. What? That didn't matter, there was no need to compare himself to whoever this Andy dude was.

Roman ignored his mess of thoughts and placed himself near Virgil. "Hey, Virgil! Who's your friend?" Ignoring how stiffly Roman spoke it almost seemed like he was saying it nicely. Of course Roman was saying it nicely, why wouldn't he be saying it nicely?

"Oh uh, we're not friends yet," and the guy dragged his hand through his hair and winked at Virgil. He actually winked. He looked towards Roman. "Anyways I'm Andy, me and my friend Spike are going to get some food, wondering if Virgil here would like to join us?"

And boy, did Roman have a lot he wanted to say, it might've warranted him a disappointed lecture from Janus. So he turned off his internal monologue of this bitch really thinks he can take Virgil, my best friend out to an 8pm dinner, that's our thing sometimes we even share pancakes- and looked over to Virgil. He must know that the late dinners are tradition and that one cannot break from traditions especially ones with your best friends.

"Come on, it'll be fun." Andy lowered his voice, "Maybe after we can drive somewhere, there's a place I know that's really pretty around this time."

Roman scowled and opened his mouth, hoping to say something that wouldn't sound overly protective and jealous. "He-"

"Sorry we have some band stuff to talk about tonight. But uh," Virgil threw up some awkward finger guns and stood up, quickly trying to get away. "I'll see you around though. Have a good night, Andy." They started to walk away.

"Ok, if you're sure, I wish I got your number, but I'll stick with this," Virgil turned around to see Andy badly twirling one of his sticks. "See ya around Virgey," and with another stupid wink, he was gone.

They both stood frozen on the stage, the feeling in Roman's stomach grew as the silence stretched out. "Did he just make a pun? And call me Virgey?" He looked over to Roman with a bewildered face. "He used a pun to take my stick, called me Virgey, and left. Now I need new sticks," Virgil looked down at his lone drumstick. "This is why I don't like new people talking to me. And being stuck somewhere alone with a stranger? Not my thing." Virgil turned to face Roman, hands loosely playing with his stick. "Sorry for cutting you off there but you were already being overly jealous and extra and I didn't want that to get worse."

"Hey, I'm not overly extra, I don't know what you're talking about," Roman looked down and pouted.

"Oh so you're admitting you're jealous?" Virgil raised an eyebrow with an innocent look.

"I'm not that either, Virgey," Roman ignored his growing blush, took Virgil's last drumstick and lightly hit him on the arm, making Virgil frown in response.

"Oh really?" Virgil took back his stick and hesitated before gently placing it under Roman's chin, tilting his head up so their eyes met. "You're a horrible liar, you don't keep eye contact and can't think of excuses, it's very suspicious. Anyways, you interrupted my lovely conversation with Andy, sure seems like you're jealous, Roman."

Wow… Roman was going to faint. Virgil was looking at him with a teasing glint in his eyes as a stupidly cute laugh fell from his lips. Roman couldn't even respond let alone breathe, who gave Virgil a right to be this- this-

Roman's chin fell. "We should go, I think Jan and Remus are already in the van."

"Uh, yeah," Roman said, slightly dazed. "This is your last call to go with your stranger over there and get into his sketchy looking truck. You sure you don't want that?"

Virgil snorted, "I'll stick with your jealous self. At least I know you won't kill me in a back alley." He started to walk away. "Come on, you know Janus will leave for ihop without us."

Roman followed him out. "I blame you if he leaves us, you piss him off too much."

"Says the one who got into an hour long argument with him about cornflakes." Roman scoffed in response.

The after show high had returned, along with memories of thousands of similar interactions with Virgil. (God, why was Virgil such a flirt? Roman would combust one of these days.) Unlike his earlier predictions, it was a very nice night after all. Roman was so thankful to have the feeling of giddiness back in his veins and his band of friends surrounding him.

(He was also thankful for the ihop waiter that brought him extra whipped cream that Virgil proceeded to eat and get all over him. There was now a very cute picture of Virgil in Roman's syrup covered phone that Roman would not stop looking at all night.)

I tried to do it justice, thanks for letting me write this and for sending in a prompt. Send me a prompt (and characters and a ship, sorry if I change it) and I’ll write something (probably short and definitely sanders sides) out of it eventually. Know that it will probably take me forever but I’m trying to write more

#sanders sides #sanders sides fanfiction #virgil sanders #roman sanders #prinxiety #romantic prinxiety #janus sanders mention #remus sanders mention #ts virgil #ts roman #I know dialouge is not my jam and it probably sounds choppy but idk how to fix it #botb au #hopefully this is good enough lexi #pen throws away a pen

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wrienne · 3 years

Text

My Cheating, Amnesic Fiancé

Chapter 7: Reconnaissance

You stared at him. “You must be freaking kidding me.”

“I’m afraid not,” replied Sejin as he reluctantly sipped his cup of coffee. “I’ll help you in any way I can, but it’s mostly up to you.”

“I… I’m...”

“You’re doubtful?”

“That wouldn’t even begin to describe what I’m feeling,” you admitted and nervously scratched your arm. “I… I’ll try my best, I really will. But...”

You stopped yourself right then and there. You had merely promised Jungkook you would help him through the amnesia. It wasn’t necessary for you to get him back on top of the music industry again. But you knew he had suffered and worked and spent too much of his life to lose it all just because he was stupid and impulsive enough to drunkenly run out on the street at the wrong time. Also, you couldn’t help but feel a little bit guilty. Even though he was - or should you rather say had been - an absolute scumbag, if you would have never made him so upset, he might not be in the devastating situation he was in right now.

And he had changed. You felt it. Somehow, however little. Jeon Jungkook relied on you for the first time in your life.

You had a chance to help him. And although that was good enough morally speaking, what would be the point of all your efforts if he couldn’t perform again? The concert had clearly proven to you that Jungkook belonged up there, on stage, singing and dancing with his hyungs. Having a deadline of slightly more than three months would only mean you and Jungkook would have to work harder.

A lot harder.

“I’ll make it happen,” you said finally. “Jungkook will be able to perform in Japan by the end of May.”

You surprised yourself with how confident you sounded. Perhaps even Sejin, too, for he raised a surprised eyebrow before nodding in approval.

“I believe you can do this,” he told you. “If there’s anything I can do to help, just tell me.”

“Actually,” you began, “I need to get Jungkook some new clothes. Could you give me an address to where he lives and perhaps the numbers of his group members? Yours, too, if you don't mind.”

After exchanging numbers, you realized you could probably make a fortune selling the information to fanatic fans. Though, as Jungkook had stated yesterday, you didn’t really need any more money.

You parted ways with Sejin and found your parents’ private chauffeur, Kwon Jong-Yeol, waiting impatiently outside the entrance door to the hospital. While driving you home, he held a long lecture for you where he talked about the dangers of young women wandering around alone during the night. He didn’t even care about the emergency part, but then again, he had never been particularly fond of Jungkook.

You were done drying your hair after a much-needed shower when you decided to call your parents to tell them about your decision to break the engagement. As you stood in the hallway of your apartment, your heart pounding against your ribcage, you realized very quickly that nobody would reply. You weren’t particularly surprised, knowing your parents' habits of exercising early in the morning before work, and made a mental note to call them later in the day when they were free.

Frankly, you felt a bit relieved. You didn’t know how they would react upon hearing the news - nor did you want to know.

Before you zipped your phone into your jacket pocket, you spotted, to your great horror, that the seven numbers Sejin had given you were names you had never heard before, of course with the singular exception being him.

Jung Hoseok.

Kim Namjoon.

Kim Seokjin.

Kim Taehyung.

Min Yoongi.

Park Jimin.

Six names. You guessed Jin, the guy who had blown a kiss at Se-Eun and her friends, was Kim Seokjin, but you hadn’t even the slightest idea regarding the remaining five. You barely remembered what their stage names - since that’s what they must have introduced themselves as at the beginning of the concert - had been.

You didn’t have the chance to stress over it much, since you were getting late to school and you had forgotten to read a chapter for the day’s first presentation. You planned to read during the drive, but you were so tired you fell asleep during the usual, boring road to Korea University Business School. Yes, you were enrolled in one of the prestigious SKY universities. But as the granddaughter of one of the most prominent businessmen in the world and the alleged heiress of his company, this surprised nobody.

It hadn’t really been much of a choice for you, since you had known, ever since you were four years old, that you would one day become the owner and CEO of Phoenix Inc. Even if your parents were to have birthed a hundred children after you, none of them would have become a candidate for the post. Because your grandfather had chosen you in particular, stated your name explicitly in his will, to become his successor as soon as you had finished college. Your dad was merely a placeholder - your placeholder - until that day.

You didn’t know why, though.

Se-Eun was waiting outside the main auditorium together with the other students when she spotted you approaching. She darted toward you, greeted you happily with a hug and took you a bit off to the side, so no one could overhear.

“You have to tell me what happened,” she blurted, her brown eyes glinting with curiosity. “We only have three minutes ‘til class, so you’d best keep it snappy.”

Thinking back on the last twelve hours, it wasn’t difficult for you to deduce that you could say nothing. Not even to your best friend.

“I… I can’t really talk about it,” you said truthfully. “But I promise, it wasn’t anything sensational.”

“I thought you were going to snap someone’s neck when you returned,” she said skeptically. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you that upset. Were you embarrassed because they kicked you out? You didn’t have to let us wait for half an hour just to make it seem you had gotten backstage.”

“I was neither upset nor embarrassed,” you protested. “And if I wouldn’t have gotten backstage, I would have been only half as angry as I was yesterday.”

“I knew it!” she exclaimed triumphantly. “You are the quickest, craftiest person I know, (Y/F/N) - now spill the details! What’s there to be so on the down-low for anyways?”

“You know your dialect always spills through when you’re overexcited?” You gave her a teasing smile, pleasantly surprised with her compliment.

“Don’t try to change the subject,” she said stubbornly as she folded her arms across her chest. “Why are you so secretive about it?”

You shook your head. “I really can’t talk about it, I’m sorry.”

Se-Eun sighed, but she gave in. “Well, what did you think about the concert? Wasn’t it-- every one of them amazing? Especially Jungkook?”

When you didn’t immediately give her an annoyed eye roll, sigh or a directly opposed comment as you had the last couple of years whenever she brought up the subject of Jungkook, she whistled in surprise. “You must have really been floored,” she noted.

“Yeah,” you admitted reluctantly. You recalled Jungkook’s presence on stage and almost shivered. His hair, darkened with sweat; his large eyes, filled with an intensity you had never before witnessed; his body language, purposeful and practiced, yet fluid and wild, like liquid mercury; and his voice, soft yet steady, controlled yet gentle.

Beautiful.

But then you remembered his face when he had spotted Kim Sejin. You remembered the creeping anguish in his voice when he had spoken to you and the desperate strength of his grip when he had held your hand. He had been a whole different person. Fearful and brittle. So near his dream yet suspicious, confused and alone.

Now he trusted only you. Of course, you couldn't forget his eyes on Park Yi-Jae, either.

Se-Eun had been discussing which solo performance had been her favorite while you reminisced, when she said something that caught your attention.

“‘Taehyung’?” you repeated. “Who is he?”

“Are you serious?” exclaimed Se-Eun. “I’ve been talking about BTS for years and you only now pay attention?”

“Sorry,” you said unapologetically as you checked the time on your phone. Class would begin anytime now. “You never listen to me when I talk about my interests.”

“Oh, I don’t? I’ll remember this, (Y/N).”

“Come on, I’ll buy you lunch. Now tell me.”

“You would have gotten in so much trouble without your family’s money,” she replied while giggling. “Whenever your tongue and stubbornness get you in trouble, you have an easy way out.”

“Please, Se-Eun,” you said impatiently as you spotted movement over your friend's shoulder. “Professor Kang has already begun letting people inside.”

“Make it free lunch for the whole week.”

You gave her a sharp look but knowing the time-crunch you were in, you also nodded. “Deal.”

Se-Eun began toward the door as she spoke, signaling for you to follow. “Kim Taehyung is V’s real name,” she told you. “Do you want to know the rest of their real names as well?”

You greeted Professor Kang while passing her, then nodded again.

“Rap Monster’s real name is in fact Kim Namjoon,” said Se-Eun as she followed you on your search for two available seats next to one another. She folded a finger for each member - and name in your contact list - as she continued. “Jin’s real name is Kim Seokjin. J-hope’s real name is surprisingly not J-hope but Jung Hoseok, Park Jimin is Jimin and Min Yoongi is Suga. You probably know Jungkook’s real name.”

Suga. Min Yoongi. He was the one who hadn’t spoken even once when you first had stumbled upon the group. With slim dark eyes and a solo performance that had left you feeling physically wounded.

There was something about him.

“Jimin is the shortest one, right? With the light voice?” you asked as you found two seats and sank down into one of them.

“He’s taller than you.”

“In comparison with the whole group,” you said as you rolled your eyes at her instant defense. “And it wasn’t an attack, merely an observation.”

Se-Eun sat down next to you. “I’m just saying. Now, what’s the reason you want to know about their names? Are you becoming a fan?”

“Not really,” you said nonchalantly. “I just thought it would be good to know the names of the seven guys my best friend plans to marry by the end of her twenties.”

“Well, that will be easy. I only intend to marry one of them. Can you guess who?”

You swallowed. Hard.

“I can’t believe you’re still shameless enough to fantasize about things like that,” you said in an attempt to change the subject, immediately regretting the path your joke had taken. “Aren’t you too old to be a fangirl?”

“You’re never too old to be a fangirl,” she said defiantly. “I have a whole scenario in the back of my mind for the time we first meet. Jungkook will have spotted me in the audience and fallen in love with me just like that. I just need to be seen by him, that’s all.”

“You’re absolutely mad,” you told her as you laughed in disbelief. “Love doesn’t work like that. He doesn’t work like that.”

“Right, I forgot you and him are childhood friends and have known each other for centuries.”

You regarded her closely. “You’re actually getting irritated, aren’t you?” you asked.

When she didn’t directly reply, you almost burst out in laughter again. Fortunately, you were mindful of your surroundings: people were quieting as they trickled in slower through the door where Professor Kang still waited, her one hand rubbing the face of her wristwatch.

“I would never let a guy get between our friendship,” she said instead of directly addressing the question.

“Not even Jeon Jungkook?”

She shook her head as Professor Kang shut the door and began toward the lectern. “Not even him,” she whispered.

Se-Eun could never get hold of the knowledge that you and Jungkook had once been engaged, you realized as soon as the professor began her lecture. It would mean the end of your relationship. Even though you were tempted to talk with her about you and Jungkook and the situation overall, you couldn’t.

During the rest of the school day, you surprised yourself by almost constantly thinking about Jungkook. Which ways you could help him, what type of reintroduction would most likely help him and so on and so forth. You looked back at your and Jungkook’s time as younger, when and how he would express himself regarding music. You even listened to Se-Eun’s obsessive rambling over the group, hoping you could snatch any type of idea or information that might be of use - which didn’t prove as fruitless as you initially had predicted. For example, you never knew Rap Monster, or rather, Kim Namjoon, was the reason Jungkook had chosen BigHit when he had numerous other options. By the end of last class, you had actually gotten somewhat of a battle plan against Jungkook’s amnesia. Though you seriously doubted anything less than a miracle would be absolutely crucial for you to succeed by May 30th, you were determined.

You were in good spirits by the time Jong-Yeol dropped you off outside what Kim Sejin had told you was BTS’ apartment. The sun had already sunken beneath the upraised, jagged horizon of other apartment buildings, and your breath was escaping in white wisps. Fortunately, you had had the foresight to dress properly - unlike when you darted out to see Jungkook at the hospital - so you weren’t feeling too uncomfortable. Still, even though most of the snow had melted, Seoul was a chilly city during the winter months.

The apartment Kim Sejin had given you the address to didn’t look any different from a typical, middle-class apartment building. But then, you were used to living very affluently and had no idea if this was considered a good buy or not. Jong-Yeol had been unwilling to let you walk around all on your own, forcing you to remind him you weren’t seven years old any longer. Perhaps he had meant that the neighborhood wasn’t the best.

You were too nervous to call any of the six new contacts in your phone, so you stalled a bit by trying to find out where seven guys could live by checking the mailboxes in the entrance hall. However, none of the names stuck out as particularly “largest K-pop group in Korea”-esque, and you understood to your dismay that you would have to call one of them.

You were just about to dial Kim Seokjin - since he was the only one you had managed to fully identify on your own, he felt the least awkward to talk to - when someone called you.

#MCAF #wrienne #ao3 #bts fanfiction #bts x reader

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carewyncromwell · 4 years

Text

[Ficlet] Take a Chance on Me

...Hey, I said I might add onto the ficlet I did of how Carewyn joined the Slytherin Quidditch team for a game back in her third year! >>; This is based on Quidditch Season 1 Chapter 6, AKA the major plot turn before MC, Orion, Skye, and their house Quidditch team’s first match. (In this case, Slytherin VS Hufflepuff!)

For those of you who didn’t read the last ficlet and want to just jump into this one -- Carewyn (soon to be “Mama-Bear”) Cromwell is a third year Slytherin, with Orion, Skye, McNully, and Rath all being one year ahead of her. This will also be the only Quidditch match Carewyn plays until the tail end of her sixth year, which you can read about with this Quest of the Quidditch tag I made! Also as a note, since there is some art under the cut -- Orion, in my canon, doesn’t look the way he does in the game until his sixth year or so (namely, with his facial hair), hence why he looks a bit more boyish in how I drew him! (It is amazing how much younger Orion looks without the stubble!!) And yeah, even if Carewyn and Orion eventually become a couple post-Hogwarts, their relationship won’t really be explicitly romantic here, even if the strong platonic chemistry will definitely be there. 😊

Hope you enjoy! 💚

x~x~x~x

The Slytherin VS Hufflepuff Quidditch match was scheduled for the first weekend of November. With less than a week remaining, both houses were getting very excited -- Carewyn could tell her friend Penny Haywood was having trouble knowing whether to be more thrilled for her house team or for Carewyn.

“Well, there are a lot of people who don’t make the team on their first try!” Penny had said to Carewyn when she learned the news. “Gosh, Carewyn -- I know you’ll be flying up against my team, but...watching you play in a real Quidditch match will be even more fun than just watching one with you!”

Charlie and Andre were also thrilled.

“I knew you could do it, Carey!” said Charlie, beaming from ear to ear. “C’mere!”

He looped an arm around her neck and squeezed her against his side in a hug.

“Mm, I can’t say I knew, given Orion Amari’s reputation,” said Andre, though his face still broke into a grin, “but I’m glad that however odd he is, at least he can see raw talent when it’s placed in front of him! It’ll be so much more exciting to have you on the Pitch too, Cursebreaker.”

Though inwardly hating the nickname, Carewyn still gave them her best smile. “Thanks...”

~~~

The first couple of Slytherin team practices were largely based on teamwork exercises, so as to “strengthen the bond” between Carewyn and the rest of her teammates. She knew her fellow Chasers Orion and Skye already, of course, but Orion wanted to make sure she was likewise on good terms with their Beaters -- a pair of muscular seventh-years called King and Shacklebolt -- their very tall sixth-year Keeper Crockett, and their pretty seventh-year Seeker, Anika Lucky.

If Carewyn’s petite height and lack of muscles weren’t noticeable before, it was comically apparent when she stood alongside the rest of the Slytherin team -- even Skye, the smallest of them, still towered a good ten inches over 4′9″ Carewyn. Fortunately, although most of the Slytherin team gave Carewyn a slightly confused side-eye when she first arrived for practice, they all reacted a little differently after Orion challenged the team to break his record of balancing on their brooms (2 hours, 52 minutes and 31.2 seconds, according to McNully), and Carewyn was the only one who kept up with Skye all the way up until the end.

“And then there were two,” sighed Shacklebolt rather tiredly, when he finally had to give up and sit back down on his broom, massaging his leg.

Crockett looked at Orion with something of a weak smile. “Come on, Orion...maybe we should call this off. We can’t exactly break the record for balancing on one leg together when most of us are sitting down...”

“Ah, but if one of us breaks the record, then we all break the record,” said Orion with a smile.

Skye crossed her arms from her position balancing on her broom. “The one who breaks the record will get credit, though, right?”

“A victory for one is a victory for all,” Orion said mellowly, “and for that, we should celebrate on behalf of that one.”

Carewyn opened her eyes. She’d been keeping them closed and singing songs in her head, to try to help her ignore how much her leg was hurting and how much time was passing. When she glanced at Skye, she noticed a line of sweat appearing on her brow.

“...How close are we to our goal, Orion?” asked Carewyn.

“Only time will tell,” answered Orion.

Skye frowned sourly. “Right -- that was Carewyn’s question: tell us the time.”

“The moment is near,” said Orion with a twinkle in his eye, “but who’s counting?”

“MCNULLY!” Skye bellowed up at the stands in exasperation. “YOU’D BETTER BLOODY WELL BE COUNTING UP THERE, OR I SWEAR I’LL BEAT BOTH YOU AND ORION BLACK AND BLUE!”

The Beaters both sighed and shook their heads.

“Here he goes again,” muttered Shacklebolt.

“I think he’s gone even deeper into his own head since becoming Captain,” King agreed under her breath, sounding both rather tired and slightly amused.

Carewyn turned to Orion, her almond-shaped blue eyes becoming a bit more serious.

“Orion, a Niffler is able to chase gold so well because it can smell when it’s close,” she said in an oddly stern voice. “It’d probably be a lot easier for Skye and me to reach our goal if we also knew how close we were to it.”

The other Slytherins all blinked at the tiny third-year, taken aback by her assertiveness. Orion, however, only grinned.

“Is not the journey a kind of treasure in itself, however?” he said. “After all...you and Skye have united so well in this endeavor, despite your apparent differences.”

“Yes,” granted Carewyn, her voice staying rather firm, “but if you want both of us -- and therefore all of us -- to break the record, then it stands to reason that both Skye and I should be of the same mind. And Skye and I would both like to know how close we are to bringing our team victory.”

“Right,” said Skye, a bit more impatiently. “So will you go ask McNully how much time is left already?”

Orion’s black eyes sparkled with mischief. “It’s so fascinating, how full of fire you both are, and yet how differently colored your flames are.”

He looked up at the stands. When he caught McNully’s eye, he threw up his fist into the air in silent celebration.

“That’s it?!” said Skye eagerly, sounding immensely relieved. “A new record? Finally!”

She immediately sat down -- Carewyn, however, did not, and she was glad of it, for sure enough, Orion turned back around with a grin and said,

“McNully’s just informed me that we’re in the final countdown!”

The team all covered their faces with their hands. Skye’s mouth dropped open.

“What?!” she yelped. “Are you kidding -- I wouldn’t have sat yet!”

“Why did you?” Orion teased good-naturedly. “I thought you wanted to be the last one standing.”

Skye looked like steam was coming out of her ears. Carewyn fixed Orion with a rather reproachful look.

“Orion, that wasn’t nice!” the much smaller girl scolded him the way she sometimes did Jacob when she was little. “Skye really had her heart set on beating your record.”

Orion’s amusement actually dimmed slightly. After a moment, his expression turned a bit softer upon both Skye and Carewyn.

“Fortunately she did beat it,” he said, gesturing to Carewyn still balancing on her broom, “through her student.”

Carewyn raised her eyebrow, looking from Orion to up at McNully in the commentary box. “So the record has been broken now?”

“Indeed,” said Orion with a proud smile, exchanging a nod with McNully. “McNully-confirmed. Congratulations, team -- we did it!”

The team all breathed a sigh of relief, except for Skye, who still looked sour.

“Carewyn did it, this time,” she said begrudgingly. “Congratulations, Carewyn.”

Carewyn lowered herself back down onto her broom, averting her eyes and massaging her burning thigh. “Thanks.”

She was proud that she was able to prove herself, after it’d taken her three whole hours just to figure out how to even balance like that in the first place...even if she didn’t love the fact that Skye was clearly bitter about it.

“I must admit, though, Carewyn, I’m a bit disappointed,” said Orion. “Not once in all that time did you share any of your meditation songs with us.”

The team, including Skye, once again turned to look at Carewyn, surprised. Carewyn flushed.

“Well, you said I could do it whenever we meditate together, as in the two of us,” she said rather huffily, closing her eyes and putting up her nose. “I didn’t want to break anyone else’s concentration.”

“A kind thought,” said Orion. “But perhaps next time, we can see if it actually helps our team’s focus. We’ll need all the focus and teamwork possible, in our match against Hufflepuff.”

~~~

The Slytherin team soon found themselves very happy with Orion’s choice. Carewyn not only was a very talented Chaser with excellent speed and aim, but she also seemed to know just how to talk to Orion on his terms and keep him a bit more grounded. And when she did end up singing during their practices, it actually turned out to be kind of a fun way to pass the time too. The players who’d been born in magical families like Skye in particular found it interesting to hear Muggle songs they’d never been exposed to before.

“If you're all alone, When the pretty birds have flown, Honey, I'm still free -- Take a chance on me! Gonna do my very best, And it ain't no lie -- If you put me to the test, If you let me try...”

Carewyn did notice, however, that their practices were being watched -- and not just by Murphy McNully, either.

“It’s not abnormal for other teams to want to get a peek at new players before a match, so they can get information they can use while building their team strategies,” McNully told her. “Most opposing players try to be subtle about it, but Ulrich Dylan -- that’s Hufflepuff’s Captain -- is not. Ravenclaw’s whole team isn’t either...especially Erika Rath -- she always makes it a point to get a good look at any new opponents. And well, admittedly, there’s nothing banning them from coming to watch our practices, so I guess they don’t feel the need to hide it.”

Carewyn considered this. “...Maybe they see it as a way to intimidate us too -- you know, being so confident in letting us know that they see us, and that they’re judging us.”

Kind of like how I felt a bit intimidated by Orion, while he was watching me fall off my broom for three hours.

McNully nodded. “Not a bad theory! Ravenclaw in particular has already won the Quidditch Cup two years in a row, so they definitely have some cause to be confident. Just with their current line-up, I’d say there’s a 38% chance they’ll win the Cup again.”

Considering that was well over 1/4, Carewyn didn’t like those odds. Seeing the frown on her face, McNully smiled.

“Don’t worry, Carewyn -- we do have one ace up our sleeve, when it comes to strategy. Only Slytherin knows how to do the Thimblerig Shuffle properly, as of yet -- therefore if we use it, I’d say we stand a 87.3% chance of throwing Hufflepuff off their game.”

Carewyn smiled. “That’s great!”

“Glad you agree!” said McNully. He then rubbed the back of his neck a bit awkwardly. “There’s...just one thing: Orion would have to actually use it, in the match. And well, we both know Orion -- the odds of him using it don’t go above 43%...” His face then burst into a smile. “...buuuut I’d say if you put in a good word with him, he might be more willing to listen!”

Carewyn looked confused. “Why me? You’re Orion’s friend too, aren’t you?”

“Of course! But Orion and I are still very different people. We have trouble speaking the same language sometimes. Honestly, I’d say I only understand what he’s trying to say about 72% of the time,” McNully added under his breath. “But you and he already seem to have a good rapport -- I reckon you bringing up the Thimblerig Shuffle to Orion would improve his odds of using it by a good 10%!”

Carewyn still wasn’t entirely sure, but she gave McNully a reassuring nod. “Well, I’ll try, anyway.”

~~~

Carewyn asked Orion to meet her before practice. She wanted to make absolutely sure that none of the other team’s players would be listening in. When Orion saw her approach, he smiled broadly.

“Greetings, Breaker of Records,” he said amusedly.

Carewyn frowned. The nickname reminded her unpleasantly of Andre’s “Cursebreaker” moniker for her.

“Hi, Orion...thanks for coming early.”

Orion seemed to notice the shift in her expression -- it made his eyes soften slightly, becoming a bit more serious.

“We’re members of the same Quidditch family now, Carewyn,” he said gently. “Therefore my time is our time...and we can always find time to find balance together.”

Carewyn smiled slightly, feeling a bit reassured. “...Well, it’s less about balance and more about...well, about the match against Hufflepuff.”

“I think those two things are very much entwined,” said Orion.

“In a way, yes...but well, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but we’ve had a lot of company in the stands, while we’re practicing. Like Hufflepuff’s Captain.”

Orion nodded. “I have seen him.”

“Well, McNully thinks he’s been stopping by to get a good look at me, and the rest of the team,” said Carewyn seriously. “That way he can use whatever information he can get about us in his team’s strategy. And...well, I know you don’t think strategical skills will determine our path...but it seems like we should use all of the strengths we have to our advantage, right?”

Orion crossed his legs around his broom so that he could actually take his hands off of it and cross his arms idly over his chest.

“I agree,” he said quietly, but it seemed clear he was waiting for her to reach her conclusion, rather than being completely onboard.

“Well,” Carewyn plowed on, “right now, we’re the only Quidditch team who knows how to do the Thimblerig Shuffle -- you know, the move McNully made up?”

Orion nodded slowly. “I remember. Quintessential McNully -- magical in its complexity, and complex in its magic.”

Carewyn gave a nod of her own. “It’s really a very clever move...it would definitely throw Hufflepuff off-balance, which could only help us out. And well, considering McNully’s your friend, I reckon it would mean a lot to him, if you considered using it.”

Orion raised his eyebrows rather coolly. “You clearly have been a very good friend to McNully already, speaking on his behalf. Though I don’t know if I appreciate him using the Slytherin team in a strategy to coax their Captain to his way of thinking.”

Carewyn felt her gaze slipping down to her broom, but she tried to hold her ground. “I really don’t think McNully was trying to pressure you, Orion. I think he just really wants us to win -- you to win. Planning things out is just how his mind works...and he is pretty good at it. I learned a lot about Quidditch from him.”

“You and McNully do both enjoy your plans and strategies,” said Orion.

His face then spread into a wryer smile.

“I, however, have a different strategy in mind -- the absence of strategy.”

Carewyn wanted to be surprised, but she wasn’t. It still didn’t make the lump that settled into her stomach any less heavy.

“...Then...you have no plan at all, for us to win?” she asked, a bit shakily.

Orion’s black eyes twinkled. “Indeed. Let me show you.”

Within seconds, he’d easily leapt up onto his broom, so that he was balancing on it. Rather than before, though, he used both feet and actually surfed on the back of it, as if he were on a surfboard soaring through the air. Unlike a surfer on ocean waves, however, Orion was able to go completely upside down and around, balancing perfectly as if he and his broom were one and the same.

Carewyn found herself unable to tear her eyes away. Orion did, in fact, look pretty damn cool.

Her eyes were as wide as dinner plates as she followed his zigzagging moves around the Pitch -- and little by little, she found her lips spreading into an awed, open-mouthed smile.

Her reaction made Orion grin.

“Inspired Broom Surfing!” he called down to her. “That is its name, and that is what all shall call it.”

“Did you...did you invent this yourself?” asked Carewyn, disbelievingly.

“It’s the product of inspiration, not invention,” said Orion. “I thought of it, and so I do it.”

He looped in several circles over Carewyn’s head with apparent ease.

“Surfing the skies distracts the competition. They, too, shall wish to surf like this...”

He weaved in a tight “S” shape that reminded Carewyn of a figure skater on ice.

“...and yet, it also showcases one’s individual talent, and magnifies it! For most Quidditch players, even the best, never take the time to become one with their brooms -- but you can be an exception.”

Carewyn’s eyes and smile were very bright. ‘So you can psyche your opponent out, just with your confidence! And because you’ve got both hands open to hold the Quaffle, it’ll be harder for the opposing team to steal it too!’

“That’s...it’s brilliant, Orion!”

The praise definitely seemed to boost Orion’s ego. He flew completely upside down in a circle before coming to a stop beside Carewyn, grinning broadly.

“Would you like to learn?” he asked.

Carewyn looked down at Orion’s Cleansweep and then down on her old rundown Shooting Star.

“I definitely won’t be as good as you,” she said as offhandedly as she could.

Orion’s black eyes sparkled. “We’ll see about that. Now come -- balance first.”

Carewyn followed his lead, balancing on her broom the way he did.

“Forget technique,” he instructed, “forget form. Just be one with the broom.”

Carewyn started off slow, trying to weave. There were one or two points she felt like she was going to fall off, but she just managed to sweep her broom around enough to catch herself. Orion meanwhile swept around her in spirals to observe her.

“Do not broom surf with intent. You should only ever do this when the feeling is right, not when logic dictates.”

Carewyn sped up a bit in her weaving, tilting her broom up so that she hovered a bit higher. She then tried to aim herself toward the hoops -- she charged ahead, and then looped back around in a “j” shape. Orion followed, shimmying around her.

“Good,” said Orion. “Good -- let go -- ”

Carewyn urged her broom a little faster and Orion took off after her. Soon they were weaving around each other, Orion coming up and over her. Carewyn brought her arms up on either side of her to help her shift balance as if she was on roller skates, and she soon found herself laughing. This was fun!

“How...how am I doing?” she asked as she tried to catch her breath.

Orion’s smile was broader than Carewyn had ever seen it, so much so that it made his black eyes squint slightly. “You look like you’ve been broom surfing like that your entire life, Carewyn Cromwell.”

They finally came to a halt in the middle of the pitch. Orion nimbly leapt back down onto his broom in a seated position again -- Carewyn took a bit more time to gradually lower herself back down.

“Hufflepuff will not be able to take their eyes off you,” Orion said confidently. “And it’s while they are distracted that we will be able to rack up points.”

Carewyn adjusted her ponytail as best she could with one hand.

“It really is brilliant, Orion,” she said kindly, “but...well, isn’t that a strategy in itself, that I’ll distract the Hufflepuffs, while you and Skye score points?”

“To some, perhaps,” said Orion. “But all of it will only be if the time and feelings are right. I don’t believe in planning things out too far ahead. None of us are Seers who can divine the future, so can we truly know whether any plans we make will fit in with how that future will take shape?”

“No,” granted Carewyn, “but that doesn’t mean you can’t make a plan and hope for the best anyhow. Or better yet, make a back-up plan, just in case things don’t go the way you want...”

Orion raised an eyebrow. “You and McNully believe Hufflepuff’s Captain came to watch our practices so as to make a strategy, correct? It stands to reason, then, that he’s channeling the Demiguise as best he can.”

“The Demiguise?” prompted Carewyn.

“Trying to predict our own strategy in the upcoming match, through watching our interactions and team dynamics,” said Orion simply. “If, however, we go in with no strategy, there’ll be nothing for Hufflepuff to latch onto. That mystery works in our favor.”

“But it also might make it harder for us to fly as one team,” Carewyn pointed out, trying to mirror Orion’s level tone but not quite succeeding due to her sincere concern. “I can Broom Surf now, Orion, but I can’t do it as well as you. Only you will likely ever be able to do it as well as you do...because no one could be exactly like you. And well...no one else sees the world quite like you do, either. It’s brilliant, really,” she added quickly. “It’s cool that you don’t act how people expect you to, or see the world like everyone else does. But...I don’t know, I guess it’d be a lot easier for the rest of the team to be on the same page as you, if you choose a book that you can read together. If that makes sense.”

Orion considered Carewyn for a moment, his unreadable black eyes trailing over her face.

“It does,” he said at last.

He looked up at the stands.

“It appears that our ‘guest’ has arrived,” he changed the subject dryly.

Carewyn looked up. Sure enough, she saw the very tall, broad-chested Hufflepuff Quidditch Captain, Ulrich Dylan, confidently striding across the stands and plopping himself down. He rested his arms on the edge of the stands as he stared down at them. Carewyn’s eyes narrowed up at him.

“As has the rest of our team,” added Orion a bit more pleasantly.

Sure enough, the rest of the Slytherins -- Skye in front -- flew out onto the pitch to join them.

“Hey, Orion,” greeted Crockett brightly. “Hey, Carewyn. Looks like you’ve both got a...‘broom with a view?’ Eh? Get it?”

Carewyn couldn’t help but wince, even though she tried to smile.

“Will you lay off with the puns?” said Skye, rolling her eyes exasperatedly. “You stretch farther with those than I do trying to reach the Quaffle...”

“But it’s part of what being Keeper is!” Crockett said playfully. “Everybody knows that...and you know I’m a Keeper! All the ladies say so.”

“All the ladies except us,” said Lucky, who’d covered her face with her hand.

“And we have to be subjected to your jokes,” added King with a roll of her eyes.

Skye shifted gears as she looked at Carewyn, offering her a determined look. “Ready for practice, Carewyn?”

Carewyn forced herself to look away from the Hufflepuff Captain in the stands, giving Skye a confident nod. “Mm-hmm.”

“The time has come for our time,” said Orion serenely. “Our first exercise will be helping each other through sabotaging each other. Our Beaters and Seeker will play as opposition to our Chasers and Keeper, so that we may practice saving and blocking goals.”

Carewyn looked at Orion with a teasing smirk. “Sounds like a plan.”

Orion smiled very wryly at her in return.

~~~

Orion asked the rest of the team to stay after practice for a team meeting. The team waited around so long for the meeting, though, that they soon occupied themselves with idle conversation. Hufflepuff’s Quidditch Captain had left over fifteen minutes ago, and Carewyn was glad to see him gone.

Skye stretched her arms over her head and sighed tiredly. “Ugh...I’m going to give Orion a good smack for this. Asks us to stay after for a team meeting, and then completely forgets to start it...”

“You shouldn’t hit him,” said Carewyn reproachfully, her voice coming out a bit whiny despite her best efforts.

“Ah, come on, Carewyn, I don’t mean it like that,” said Skye with a shake of her head. She smiled. “So anyway -- what did I miss before? What were you and Orion doing here so early?”

Carewyn took her hair out of its ponytail, looping the red scrunchie around her wrist so she could redo it. “Orion taught me how to do this Quidditch move he created -- it’s called Inspired Broom Surfing...”

Skye grinned. “Ah yeah, that thing! I reckon Orion sees it as a future signature move for him, as a player. Don’t know if I’d go that far, but hey, it’s a fun way to waste time.”

“I don’t think it wastes time,” said Carewyn, frowning slightly as she put down her now much tidier ponytail. “I think it’s rather brilliant, actually. If we’re going to beat Hufflepuff, I reckon us looking confident and fearless to the opposing team would be pretty helpful.”

“The only thing we need to defeat Hufflepuff is Parkin’s Pincer,” Skye said confidently. “They might expect it, but they can’t stop it.”

Carewyn frowned. “But...if they do expect it, then they could still make a strategy to counteract it, right?”

“Not when we do it perfectly,” said Skye. “And you and Orion both know how to do it perfectly -- I’ve made sure of that.”

Carewyn couldn’t help but disagree, but decided not to push the issue. Instead she sighed.

“Well, I guess in the end, it’s really up to Orion -- he is team Captain. I guess I just wish he’d consider making more of a plan...I mean, I always feel better whenever I’m doing something difficult, when I know I’m prepared and I’ve planned ahead.”

I don’t think I would’ve been able to deal with the Ice Vault at all, if I hadn’t practiced Incendio with Bill first. And it felt good knowing that he and Ben were there to help me too, since they both knew the spell really well.

Skye’s face became a bit more serious. “Yeah, that’s really not Orion’s style.”

She brought a hand onto the smaller girl’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze.

“Don’t worry your little red head about it, though,” she said with a smile. “Orion may be a weirdo, but he’s been known to make the right call, when it counts. You just focus on being a smashing Chaser, and let us more senior players worry about it. Nobody will be expecting the newest player to make any major decisions during the match anyway -- ”

“That’s it! That’s what we’ll do!”

Everyone gave a start.

Orion, without anyone noticing, had settled himself overhead on his broom, sitting on it as if it were a swing. As he leapt back down to the ground, however, sweeping his broom out from under him with a flourish, he was grinning as excitedly as a kid at Christmas, his eyes on Skye and Carewyn.

“Orion?” said Carewyn, startled. “When did you -- ?”

“Is the meeting finally starting now?” asked Lucky.

Orion brought his broom up onto his shoulders behind his head, still grinning broadly. “This is the team meeting. I simply stand back and observe my teammates interacting in an unstructured setting.”

Skye wrinkled her nose in revulsion. “Orion! Most people call that snooping!”

“I prefer the term ‘discovery,’” Orion said smoothly. “And sure enough, it put a spotlight on your idea...”

“My what?”

Orion turned to the rest of the team, his broad smile never shifting.

“My teammates, we shall do the unexpected, to win our first House match. Hufflepuff, as well as everyone else, expects me to make the big decisions -- but instead, our newest player will.”

His black eyes and white smile were both gleaming with determination as he turned to Carewyn.

“In this match, Carewyn Cromwell will call the shots.”

Everyone on the team was so taken aback that they all stared at Carewyn, and then Orion, and back. Carewyn herself had lost all of the color in her face.

W...what?

She couldn’t do anything except gawk at Orion in disbelief. She looked around at the rest of the team helplessly -- Skye looked almost more horrified than Carewyn, as well as angry.

“What?! Orion, are you mad!?”

“Not in the least,” said Orion breezily. “I’m quite content with my decision.”

“Orion -- you can’t be -- ” started Shacklebolt.

But the Quidditch Captain had already turned around, his lips upturned in a rather proud smirk as he rested his arms over the broom on his shoulder.

“Our new leadership will not be discussed outside of the Changing Room,” he said levelly, “lest our opponents catch wind of it. And when next we fly and Ulrich Dylan’s eyes are on us, we will practice as we always have.”

He glanced over his shoulder at Carewyn, his black eyes twinkling.

“You sang your commitment to us yourself, Carewyn. And now...we’ll take a chance on you.”

By the time Carewyn recollected herself enough to try to argue, Orion was already gone.

#hphm #hogwarts mystery #my writing #my art #quidditch #orion amari #carewyn cromwell #skye parkin #murphy mcnully #charlie weasley #andre egwu #penny haywood #yay more bb!Carion #they truly could've been such a 'power couple' if they'd been able to fly together on the same team longer #'power couple' in the platonic sense at first but then eventually lbh totally not #if bill and carey were the 'papa bear' and 'mama bear' of their friend group in carewyn's canon #then if carey hadn't been so obsessed with the vaults and she and orion were able to play together they would've parented their teammates #oh well at least they do both become parents as adults <3

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faetalwords · 3 years

Text

Summer Rains and Old Pains

It took four years for Lambert to admit that the Cat wasn’t just an acquaintance. It took two more before he acknowledged that in so many words. He would never know when he fell in love with him.It took six months for Aiden to stop sleeping with one eye open - the wolf didn’t have the patience for a long con. It took two years for him to start calling the wolf “his friend” at the Caravan. It took two more for him to think that he might be a little bit in love with him. It would be a decade before they kissed for the first time.

It was a delicate game that they played, dancing on a knife’s edge in barefoot summer rains.A light push in either direction would send them both into a free fall, anger and violence for months on end until they simmered and cooled enough to embrace and cling to the other’s company like a child to a blanket. A push could be as simple as a beg for another evening or as forceful as a fistfight. It was a dangerous dance that worked in their favor most days. They were determined to make it work; so it did.

* They rode at each other’s side, horses trotting along toward the next podunk little town big enough to have a decent inn. They hadn’t seen another traveler in days and even Lambert was aching for a good bed to lie in. Naturally it had to rain. “If you hadn’t insisted we check out that embankment we wouldn’t be in this mess.” Aiden grumbled, his hair was plastered to the sides of his face and neck. He should have looked like a half drowned rat... or cat. It wasn’t fair, he looked like a painting.“I’m sorry that I have some half decent morals!” He added a mutter under his breath of “Fucking Cat.” “Your morals got you a sprained ankle and no pay for a job that should have gotten us at least twenty crowns a piece, sweetheart.” He… had a point. It wasn’t even as though the drowners were near a village. They were three hours from the last washing post for Melitele’s sake. But… no. He was not admitting defeat.“Better than a dead kid next summer. Hell, what are you complaining for? You’re the one who's been bitchin’ about a bath.” “Yes. A bath. A wonderful, warm, lovely bath- not freezing rain and a muddy river. Melitele’s tits Lam!” Aiden was a good man, he was. A damn sight better than Lambert most days but the man could complain for hours . Lambert would be paying some inn keeper for a bath that evening; he simply knew it. Even still… he reached over and flicked water from his gloves at the Cat’s face. “You’ll live.”

* “Duck!” Aiden hit the forest floor as an arrow whipped through where his neck had been just moments before. He rolled left and popped back to his feet in time to catch a bandit with his dagger, just under the man’s ribs. He made a satisfying sound when he hit the ground. Aiden didn't have time to revel in it. “Stupid thing, robbing a witcher. Robbing two? You must have been top of your class.” He spun in time to see Lambert knock the last man in the clearing unconscious before he took off into the trees. Branches broke as the archer took off post haste, seeming to realize that he was now in a very poor position. Lambert caught him before Aiden could take the first coin pouch off their would be assailants. Lambert was… harsh. He kept his gentle smiles and laughs, all his soft pieces that the world hadn’t yet managed to beat out of him close to his chest. Covered in layer upon layer of thorns and armor. He would cut his way through a hundred men before he let someone see the things he considered his weaknesses. Aiden had, somehow, managed to slip between those defenses at some point. He wasn’t sure when. Despite the rage that he carried in his chest Lambert was a good man; he didn’t take contracts on humans and he rarely killed them outright, a bit of maiming or disfigurement was well within the cards but he refused to make use of a grave. Except where Aiden was concerned. Except where the people who he loved were concerned. He’d asked, just once, why the death of a human was the line. Why after everything that life had thrown at him and all that he had done in return that was where he put the marker. Lambert had been half asleep and full of good whiskey at the time; so the answer was honest, too much so. “Cause I’ve got the upper hand no matter what. It’d be like beating on a woman or hitting a kid and I ain’t got any plans on being like my father. That’s if it’s jus’ me though. They wanna hurt someone else and I’m not going to let them get on with that. Might as well put those damn trials to some fuckin' use...” In the morning he hadn’t acknowledged the information he’d so trustingly laid at Aiden’s feet; and they went on with their lives. Lambert came back then with a recently cleaned steel sword. “They ruined my good boots.” “We’ll get you new ones.” Aiden promised. “I’m holding you to that.” A calloused hand was offered to him and Aiden placed his own within it. On his feet he stepped into the wolf’s space, using their clasped hands to pull him into a one armed hug. He ran his hand over the wolf's back for both comfort and to ensure there were no injuries he needed to patch. “Least I can do for you saving my ass.”

* They tumbled into bed together for the first time after a bar fight. It wasn’t a bed really; it was a bedroll laid beneath an overhang of rock and they were both too keyed up from their frantic flight out of town to make anything last long. Lambert had a black eye and Aiden had a split lip that protested every harsh kiss pressed against it but neither witcher cared. Pain was routine, a small price for the love and the pleasure- the oh so fucking finally feeling of giving in to what they wanted. With fumbling hands they brought each other off. Aiden slung a heavy arm over the wolf’s waist and tensed when Lambert’s hand circled his wrist, well expecting to have it tossed aside with a complaint about cuddling like he had in every inn they’d shared a bed within before. He didn’t though. Aiden woke the next morning with his arm still firmly in place. The grumbling about ‘disgusting dried fluids’ was even worth it.

* Lambert was in a mood. The birds were too loud, the flowers that bloomed alongside the road were too cloying, and the sun was too damn bright. Even Aiden, the only person on the planet that could stand his company more than a few hours, was distancing himself on their trek. The contract was for a pair of griffins, easy enough, but the alderman had smelled of cheap liquor and the look in his eye said that they would be lucky to get half the promised pay. “Hey, kitten?” It comes out as a biting thing, no matter his attempts to keep his frustration off the cat's head. “Yeah?” Aiden looked at him then, eyes that edged on green rather than amber, wide and expecting. “How ‘bout you go on and get our pay. I’ll probably gut the fucker if I have to deal with him right now.” The cat didn’t reach out for him, having spent too long at the wolf’s side not to realize his mood and the preferences that came with it. “Alright. You going to be in our room?” “Yeah, I’m going to try to sleep off the last of this damn potion.” He didn’t manage to sleep at all. Aiden came in with two plates of food and two tankards of ale to find him pretending, face down on the mattress. “Come on, asshole. I got food and most of our promised coin for you… I also got a new gwent deck last month that I’m gonna kick your ass with.” “Like you could win without cheating me, pretty thing.” he forced himself up, toward the food that made him want to be sick with the thought of it on his tongue. He needed it. He knew it, Aiden knew it. Just like Aiden knew that he wouldn't win without cheating. “Let’s see about that.”

* Cats were unstable. Dangerous. They were as quick to change from laughter to anger as a summer sky was from blue to storm gray. Cats were not to be trusted. Every witcher and human child was taught that from the moment they could walk. Lambert was never good at following instructions. “Aiden?” The carnage was… extensive. A dozen bodies torn apart with the strength of a hurricane and the care of a starving drowner. “Aiden, love?” Endearments, true endearments, were rare to pass his lips. They meant one of two things- he was well fucked or he was scared out of his ever loving mind.He stepped over a butchered arm, half cut and then torn, towards the figure in the middle of the room. They had split six weeks before, Aiden going to take on a contract that Lambert wanted to know nothing about. He wasn't naive, he knew Aiden didn't have the same qualms he did about humans and human contracts but he had asked in their third year not to know about them. Aiden respected that. Aiden respected him.It was the blood that gave them the chance to meet then, so strong even from half a mile through the forest that Lambert was helpless not to investigate. Cats are unstable. Their mutations make it inevitable that they’ll snap one day. His hand wrapped around the cat’s wrist, firm and without fear. He expected him to lash out, was willing to take whatever scar or pain that came in order to simply touch. To ensure that Aiden was real. That the frozen figure wasn’t a lie, a cruel trick played on his mind. Aiden turned, Lambert tensed, but the dagger in his cat's left hand dropped to the floor rather than bury itself in his chest; and Aiden collapsed against the wolf’s chest. He was soaked in blood, Lambert realized dimly. Not just covered but he was dripping in it. Aiden’s hair was matted with it and his blue armor hardly showed through the red. It was old- turning black and crusting. How long had he stood there? “I’ve got you, kitten.” the hand on his wrist shifted to hold the cat’s waist, Lambert raised his other hand raised to clasp Aiden's neck. A feeble attempt at making it all better. “I’ve got you.” Fourteen bodies. Most wore some sort of uniform, a lesser lordling’s colors or some shit but... some did not. There were three men in commoner clothes, a torn scrap of pale lilac fabric, and a small pair of shoes not unlike… Oh gods. “What happened here?” This is Aiden. He’s yours, he's good. There’s a reason for this. Salt was in the air, nearly lost beneath the copper of blood, and the body in his arms began heaving with sobs.“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”Cats feel too much. Lambert shifted his grip to half carry the other witcher outside, he needed away. He needed fresh air and dirt under his feet. He took the sobbing man around the back of the shack to a well where he could rip one of his undershirts into strips and begin to clean the blood and gore from the man’s skin. The armor, the clothes, they were lost causes but he could make sure that the only stain on his skin would be salt. He started with his hands, coaxing his fingers to uncurl with soft and even pressure. He took care around the nails, more than one of which were broken. Then up his arms with broader strokes. By the time he started on his neck the sobbing had quieted down to shuddering breaths, hiccups that ended before they finished. Ignoring his eyes which were red rimmed and half void of the emotions that wracked him so thoroughly just moments before, he was nearly calm.Lambert wiped at some splatter on his cheek. He tossed the cloth aside and took up another.

“Back with me, kitten?” He needed to be gentle. He had to be gentle for him.“Yeah.” His voice was like sandpaper.“Gonna tell me what happened?” Lambert asked, afraid of the answer.“... yeah.” Aiden swallowed, took a deep breath- shuddered and had to try again. Lambert waited. He could wait for Aiden. Only for Aiden. “Contract was for some kid- not to kill. No, gods no. Someone kidnapped a mayor’s daughter or a lord’s… I don’t know. Titles weren’t important. I just was supposed to find her and bring her back home but... but I tracked them up here after a few weeks. Gal had a lover and a kid no one knew about... I guess the dad's family couldn't stand a bastard kid running around or some shit and I thought that it would be easy to find her and she jus' would agree to keep it quiet but when I got here they were” his hands clenched, rage twisted his lips into a snarl but he didn't try to rise. “They were too distracted with her to realize I’d even gotten inside. They used her as a bargaining chip, Lam. She was half dead, held up here for all that time and... and they offered her to me. Like I was a- I didn’t kill her Lam, I didn’t touch her or that kid in there… that was all them. I tried so save them but it didn’t fucking matter and they... they... Please, please believe me that I wouldn’t- even as angry as I was I didn’t touch them. I didn’t do that to them. I tried. I didn't- I couldn't...” he was rambling, losing it once more and the longer he spoke the more rage built in Lambert’s chest.“I know you wouldn’t.” He pours every ounce of conviction into the words.“I blacked out, Lam. I… I don’t remember it all but I wouldn’t have” he was breathing fast again- panicking. He was losing him again. “I know, kitten. You wouldn’t. I know that, you know that. You’re too good for that, love.” He dragged the cloth over his eyelids, gentle, and then he tossed it into the bucket. He was as clean as he could be without a full bath. “Do you want me to burn it all?”“No, the girl and the kid. They deserve better. I’ll make a pyre for them if you’ll deal with the others.”“I can do that.”So Lambert gently squeezed the cat’s hands, kissed his forehead, heedless of the blood in his hair, and set to work.

* As the days grew colder the men took to curling tighter around each other’s bodies. They were only a month off the incident when Aiden set his lips against Lambert’s neck and said“I love you.”It wasn’t the first time the Cat had said those words but Lambert brought clasped hands up to his lips and whispered against them, for the first time.“Love you too, kitten.” Find more of my work on Ao3

#lamden #the witcher #witcher fic #lambert the witcher #aiden the witcher #1k-5k

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whatamidoingwithmylifeman · 4 years

Text

Mortal Kombat 11 Michiko vs Canon intro fight dialogues

TW: implications of torture and ptsd

Michiko, Reiki, and Nozomi are my OCs. Reiki is genderfluid and goes by she/her and he/him pronouns. I decided to replace the guest characters with canon characters from previous games that make sense for said OC to be interacting with. Also, Sindel in this, is not the retcon Sindel she is in the games. Plus I include my own HCs. I will post the other part to this when I am finished with it. Please read below the cut.

Baraka vs Michiko

Baraka: I smell the scent of a demon.

Michiko: I would turn that nose away before you catch the scent of your own blood!

Baraka: Come and try “Earthrealmer”.

---

Baraka: How well do you handle blades?

Michiko: As long as they aren’t running with a buzz I’m cool with it.

Baraka: Then you’re in luck.

---

Baraka: Your mate burned half our camp!

Michiko: He got scared!

Baraka: He will pay!

Cassie vs Michiko

Cassie: I didn’t know there was another woman Lin Kuei.

Michiko: Wait, another!?

Cassie: Oh you have got to meet Frost!

---

Cassie: Wait, you’re Sektor’s sister!?

Michiko: I’m trying to forget that myself...

Cassie: Then how did you get powers and he didn’t?

---

Cassie: Sooo heard you and a certain fire type were together?

Michiko: Who told you about Reiki and I!?

Cassie: Yes! It’s cannon!

Cetrion vs Michiko

Cetrion: You’re friends with my niece?

Michiko: Nozomi was the first one there for me when I became lost.

Cetrion: Treasure that friendship young one.

---

Cetrion: You aren't a cryomancer?

Michiko: I’m what you would call a demon.

Cetrion: then I must send you back into the Netherrealm.

---

Cetrion: Your anger in Hanzo is misplaced.

Michiko: he’s trying to take Reiki away from me!

Cetrion: Trust me, those aren’t his intentions.

D’vorah vs Michiko

D’vorah: This one is intrigued by your ice

Michiko: Please observe from a distance.

D’vorah: Afraid of bugs, Michiko?

---

D’Vorah: The hive would like a word with your fiery friend

Michiko: You won’t put one stinger near him!

D’vorah: Fine, this one will put them in you.

---

D’vorah: You are not human?

Michiko: no.

D’vorah: This one will end you just the same

Erron vs Michiko

Erron: Boy you must be real valuable to have a warrant this high

Michiko: What are you talking about Erron?

Erron: Your brother paid me to bring ya home.

---

Erron: You stepped out with Bi Han?

Michiko: Err almost..

Erron: Hit and miss?

---

Erron: Need help with courting some ladies?

Michiko: if I did I wouldn’t ask you.

Erron: that hurt worse than a caliber.

Frost vs Michiko

Frost: Family reunion!

Michiko: Huh? What do you mean?

Frost: You're back, and Uncle Sektor is too!

---

Frost: Wait, you’re a demon?

Michiko: Unfortunately, yes.

Frost: You just became even more badass!

---

Frost: I heard you really tore Kuai a new one when he kicked me out

Michiko: Frost, you are the only reason I returned to the Lin Kuei a few years back

Frost: You... you came back for me?

Fujin vs Michiko

Fujin: Despite being of odd origins, I sense you are more human than most

Michiko: I’m a demon Fujin. A monster.

Fujin: Even demons can achieve humanity.

---

Fujin: What has possessed you to act so violently?

Michiko: Possessed. Ha, good one Fujin.

Fujin: I am being serious Michiko!

---

Fujin: Your love for Reiki carries across the winds

Michiko: Could you bless our wedding?

Fujin: I am no Elder God.

Geras vs Michiko

Geras: For an ice type, you boil over so easily

Michiko: If people could just leave me and Reiki alone I wouldn’t be angry all the time

Geras: There’s more to your anger than just your fear of losing your lover.

---

Geras: Michiko. Demon of the Lin Kuei.

Michiko: Strange sandman. Weirdo of whatever.

Geras: You are not like many others.

---

Geras: What is your greatest desire?

Michiko: I want to be far away from Earthrealm with Reiki!

Geras: Serve Kronika, and she will grant your wish

Jacqui vs Michiko

Jacqui: You’re cooler than Sub-Zero!

Michiko: Is that a compliment or an observation?

Jacqui: Both!

---

Jacqui: So are you like the girl version of Sub-Zero, or Sektor?

Michiko: Ah! Don’t compare me to my brother!

Jacqui: Roger that.

---

Jacqui: What’s your deal with Hanzo?

Michiko: He doesn’t know how to stay away from my mate!

Jacqui: A little relationship tip for ya, jealousy isn’t romantic.

Jade vs Michiko

Jade: Do you work for Quan Chi?

Michiko: I’m a demon. Not a bitch.

Jade: That does not answer my question.

---

Jade: Child of a nymph

Michiko: how did you know?

Jade: I like to study in my free time.

---

Jade: No you may not borrow my staff!

Michiko: awe please! Just for a day!

Jade: I know what your intentions are Michiko.

Jax vs Michiko

Jax: What do they call you back home?

Michiko: Depends on who you’re referring to.

Jax: Is that good or bad?

---

Jax: You’re Lin Kuei?

Michiko: Was. And I’d like to keep it that way.

Jax: Shit. Must have been a bad trip.

---

Jax: Don’t let others define you based on your origins Michiko.

Michiko: Where was this advice when I was a kid?

Jax: Probably just outside those cold walls.

Johnny vs Michiko

Johnny: So if you’re actually a demon, then where are the horns and pitchfork?

Michiko: What do you base your imagery of demons off of?

Johnny: No comment.

---

Johnny: Cassie and I thought of some ship names for you and Reiki!

Michiko: Oh by the Elder Gods, spare me!

Johnny: What about IcyHot? No no! Freezer Burn!

---

Johnny: You may have the coldest ice around, but I’m still cooler than you!

Michiko: Tch. I’m not even gonna argue with you Cage.

Johnny: ha! So you admit it!

Kabal vs Michiko

Kabal: So do you eat souls or some shit like that?

Michiko: I eat life essence, not souls.

Kabal: What’s the difference?

---

Kabal: How are you able to withstand Reiki’s heat?

Michiko: She can control the amount of heat in her flame.

Kabal: That’s actually badass.

---

Kabal: There’s no way you and Sektor are related!

Michiko: not by blood. No.

Kabal: Wait, you're adopted?

Kano vs Michiko

Kano: could use a gal like you in the Black Dragon.

Michiko: I’d rather avoid clans. Thanks..

Kano: eh. You’re loss

---

Kano: I could help you for a favor in return.

Michiko: Didn’t your parents teach you not to make deals with demons?

Kano: Making bad deals is in me blood.

---

Kano: You know your brother’s been lookin for ya.

Michiko: Whatever he paid you, I’ll triple if you can pretend you never met me.

Kano: Deal!

Kitana vs Michiko

Kitana: You are not like many other demons

Michiko: dare I ask how?

Kitana: You have more control than you realize.

---

Kitana: I’ve heard others call you a princess. Is this true?

Michiko: Oh no! It’s just a nickname they gave me.

Kitana: I hope it is used in a good way.

---

Kitana: What brings you to Outworld?

Michiko: Escape with my mate.

Kitana: I can only offer you both so much refuge

Kollector vs Michiko

Kollector: Everyone who comes to Outworld must pay a fee

Michiko: I heard you don’t actually serve the current Kahn

Kollector: She won’t be Kahn for long.

---

Kollector: How do you get by without any wealth?

Michiko: Do you know what I am?

Kollector: A pitiful mortal.

---

Kollector: I wager you're more nymph than demon.

Michiko: You know I can’t really answer that.

Kollector: I will take my wage in hand now.

Kotal Kahn vs Michiko

Kotal Kahn: Weren’t Nymphs once considered minor Goddesses?

Michiko: Not the Nymphs of this world.

Kotal Kahn: There are others?

---

Kotal Kahn: Which lineage do you honor?

Michiko: Can’t honor a lineage that died before it could really grow, now can you?

Kotal Kahn: Surely one of your parents has a deeper origin than what is known.

---

Kotal Kahn: You seem more human than anything.

Michiko: That’s because I was raised as a human.

Kotal Kahn: So it is of nurture rather than nature

Kung Lao vs Michiko

Kung Lao: You face a Shaolin warrior

Michiko: And you face whatever the fuck you feel like calling me today.

Kung Lao: I know a God that can offer you great counseling.

---

Kung Lao: Have you seen your brother?

Michiko: What brother?

Kung Lao: Are you not related to Sektor?

---

Kung Lao: Did you ever eat any Shaolin life essence?

Michiko: see that’s the thing. I don’t remember anything when I am in that form.

Kung Lao: For your sake, you better hope you didn’t!

Liu Kang vs Michiko

Liu Kang: I know a God that can offer you great counseling.

Michiko: Is it Raiden or Fujin?

Liu Kang: Ah, I see you’ve met them both.

---

Liu Kang: You do have a heart Michiko.

Michiko: What makes you so sure?

Liu Kang: Your love for Reiki proves it so.

---

Liu Kang: The monks can help you with your anger.

Michiko: They’d probably just exorcise me.

Liu Kang: You judge incorrectly, Karasugawa.

Mileena vs Michiko

Mileena: I heard you spoken with my sister. How is she?

Michiko: She’s doing fine actually.

Mileena: Good. Mother and I do worry about her.

Mileena: I heard a certain shadow’s been calling your name.

Michiko: I will have nothing to do with that traitor!

Mileena: A bitter break up?

Mileena: Amuse me Nymph.

Michiko: No thanks, Edenian.

Mileena: You’re actually good at this.

Nightwolf vs Michiko

Nightwolf: I seek peace with my demons. You can do the same with yours.

Michiko: I am my demons, Nightwolf.

Nightwolf: Not all of them.

---

Nightwolf: Why not help de-cyberize the Lin Kuei?

Michiko: I want nothing to do with that place!

Nightwolf: Is it the place you fear, or its current inhabitants?

---

Nightwolf: You have lost yourself Michiko.

Michiko: Do I even have a self Nightwolf? Do I?

Nightwolf: The Great Spirit can help you find it.

Noob Saibot vs Michiko

Noob Saibot: Where has your love for me gone Michiko?

Michiko: It died when you joined my brother in the time merger!

Noob Saibot: Let me explain myself.

---

Noob Saibot: I see you’re friendly with those flames now.

Michiko: At least Reiki won’t betra- flames?

Noob Saibot: Oh sweet, naïve, Michiko. Have you truly not noticed him following you like a lost puppy?

---

Noob Saibot: Do you still remember our promise?

Michiko: That promise is broken and gone like the love and trust I had for you.

Noob Saibot: You’re a terrible liar, Michiko.

Raiden vs Michiko

Raiden: I normally do not allow demons in my temple.

Michiko: I am not just a demon, Raiden.

Raiden: I am aware of this.

---

Raiden: You’re of Hinpar origins?

Michiko: And Earthrealm origins too.

Raiden: So the lost realms do exist.

---

Raiden: I sense a deeper madness in you.

Michiko: No matter how far I run, I can still sense my brother nearby.

Raiden: Blame the sorcery that has been cast to bind you two.

Rain vs Michiko

Rain: You will make a powerful ally.

Michiko: Ally or servant?

Rain: You have befriended Nozomi. So ally.

---

Rain: Your power type falls under mine.

Michiko: My ice is a category all on its own.

Rain: Prove it to me.

---

Rain: Worship me as you do Nozomi.

Michiko: I work with Nozomi, not worship her.

Rain: You would be wise to do both.

Scorpion vs Michiko

Scorpion: I promised Reiki I wouldn't let you get hurt

Michiko: That was when we all though he was dead!

Scorpion: A promise is still a promise!

---

Scorpion: How did you walk so calmly through those flames?

Michiko: My ice is not that of a cryomancer’s Hanzo.

Scorpion: It is of a Nymph, isn’t it?

---

Scorpion: We share one thing in common.

Michiko: And what is that, Hasashi?

Scorpion: Loyalty to our loved ones.

Shang Tsung vs Michiko

Shang Tsung: Are you having fun sharing thoughts with your brother, Sektor?

Michiko: So it was you who binded us!

Shang Tsung: It was your fathers’ idea.

---

Shang Tsung: Your soul will prove most delicious.

Michiko: Jokes on you, I don’t have a soul.

Shang Tsung: You have one somewhere.

---

Shang Tsung: Michiko Karasugawa. A demon-nymph of dual origins.

Michiko: How do you know of that name?

Shang Tsung: I know of its true demise.

Shao Kahn vs Michiko

Shao Kahn: Nymphs used to serve the gods.

Michiko: That’s cause the gods have treated us like their own.

Shao Kahn: Today, they will serve me

---

Shao Kahn: Do you consume souls like that wretched sorcerer?

Michiko: I don’t eat souls, Shao

Shao Kahn: That’s Shao Kahn to you, demon!

---

Shao Kahn: Your lover is a powerful one.

Michiko: Touch her and you’re dead.

Shao Kahn: Just try and kill me, nymph!

Sheeva vs Michiko

Sheeva: You release too much of your anger in the wrong way.

Michiko: There’s a right way?

Sheeva: Through Kombat.

---

Sheeva: You and Reiki will make fine warriors!

Michiko: How so?

Sheeva: There is no greater strength, then two lovers on the battlefield together.

---

Sheeva: The Lin Kuei need you Michiko.

Michiko: I’m not going back there!

Sheeva: Even the toughest of warriors must face their fears.

Sindel vs Michiko

Sindel: You are much like my Mileena.

Michiko: Wait, how?

Sindel: You have chosen to be with your lover among all else.

---

Sindel: As queen of Edenia, I welcome you and Reiki to our realm

Michiko: We might not stay long, but thank you, your highness.

Sindel: Stay as long as you need to. This is a safe place.

---

Sindel: Where in the realms did you learn to scream like that?

Michiko: I used to have at least nine screaming matches a day with my father.

Sindel: By the Elder Gods child.

Skarlet vs Michiko

Skarlet: So you are nymph and demon?

Michiko: I am.

Skarlet: Your blood must be delicious.

---

Skarlet: You and I are of similar origins.

Michiko: How?

Skarlet: I too come from a line of nymphs.

---

Skarlet: You excel at taking life?

Michiko: I am not proud of it.

Skarlet: You should be!

Sonya vs Michiko

Sonya: I am surprised to see you back at SF.

Michiko: I need more relationship tips from Jacqui.

Sonya: I can offer them too you know?

---

Sonya: We need your help with dealing with Sektor.

Michiko: I am sorry Sonya, but I would rather keep my distance from him and that place.

Sonya: But you are the only one who can help us take him down.

---

Sonya: You really don’t have a legacy to live up to huh?

Michiko: Unless you count being a demon and a nymph.

Sonya: Well that’s when you make your own!

Sub-Zero vs Michiko

Sub-Zero: You know, since the time merger, I have not seen your past self.

Michiko: That’s because I had once lived outside the time dome of this world.

Sub-Zero: Where did you go when you died?

---

Sub-Zero: Please come back.

Michiko: Why, to look at their portaits and be reminded that I too am a monster?

Sub-Zero: You are no monster Michiko.

---

Sub-Zero: How did you escape the cyber initiative?

Michiko: buzzsaw. Buzzsaw. BuzzSaw!

Sub-zero: Michiko?

Sektor vs Michiko

Sektor: Many others have told me you fear me. Why?

Michiko: You use the magic that binds us to screw with me!

Sektor: I just wanted to be close to you...

---

Sektor: You and Reiki are engaged?

Michiko: She is my soulmate after all.

Sektor: As long as she makes you happy.

---

Sektor: Come back home, little sister.

Michiko: So long as that painful, loud machinery operates, the answer is no!

Sektor: How badly have I hurt you?

Cyrax vs Michiko

Cyrax: If I’m mustard, and your brother’s ketchup, what does that make you and Reiki?

Michiko: Cherry and Plum.

Cyrax: Sweet!

---

Cyrax: Be lucky you managed to escape before you were cyberized.

Michiko: Be lucky the anesthesia actually worked for you.

Cyrax: You were awake during the process?!

---

Cyrax: Do I have permission to marry Sektor?

Michiko: Do I look like my brother's keeper?

Cyrax: Yes you do, Cain. Now answer the question.

Smoke vs Michiko

Smoke: You and my Enenra are friends?

Michiko: Wait, Enenra considers me a friend?

Smoke: He does call you his demon friend.

---

Smoke: We both harbor demons in us.

Michiko: You have a demon, I am a demon. There’s a difference Vrbada!

Smoke: Not in our circumstances, there isn’t.

---

Smoke: I finally know how you feel now…

Michiko: What are you- oh, no. Come here Tomas.

Smoke: I’ll be fine Michiko

Hydro vs Michiko

Hydro: You and Kuai both need to be careful about the fire types you associate with!

Michiko: I’m not a cryomancer, Hydro. I can handle the heat!

Hydro: That doesn’t mean you can’t be hurt!

---

Hydro: You have grown since the last time we met.

Michiko: Well demons do age quite fast.

Hydro: But you are of two odd origins.

---

Hydro: You may be grown, but have you really honed your skills little snowball?

Michiko: I have honed more skill than you can ever imagine, water spout

Hydro: Then shall we test them, little fox?

Sareena vs Michiko

Sareena: I’ve never met such a cute demon

Michiko: Wait, there are more demons?

Sareena: oh you poor baby.

---

Sareena: We can form our own clan.

Michiko: I’m quite sick of them.

Sareena: Just give it a shot.

---

Sareena: Tell me, how often do you get to release that pent up rage of yours?

Michiko: When the moon is either red or gone

Sareena: I can show you another way.

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real-fanta-sea · 4 years

Note

If you're serious about the kiss thing...... You should do trikey with 56? Mikey's getting irritated about all the shit in Trevor's house

yep I’m serious, thanks for the request! It was fun to play with it, especially the part of annoyed Michael :D I used some strong language here, just so you know.

Ok, here we go *cracks knuckles*

Apart from being an exceptional place to hide from all kinds of law enforcement and pissed off gang bosses, Sandy Shores provides another highly valued quality - it's fucking hot. And not that convenient 'oh look it's the first sunny day of spring' kind of wee warm, but the brutal, penetrative heat of working by deep fryer in McDonald's during summer.

Michael smacked his lips, belched and threw an empty bottle over the battered railing of the front porch. It clanked and landed on dusty ground with a satisfying crunch, and the sun dried it in an instant. He lost count on how many of them he has already downed and disposed of, but drinking didn't help no matter what style he tried. Slow, fast, cold, warm. He tried everything. Except feeling a bit sluggish, there was no effect the lukewarm pisswasser could ever have on him after years of self-taxidermy with whiskey and coke.

The street went gradually silent by the time he finished yet another bottle, shadows grew longer, and the sun grilled him from a slightly different angle. A chatter of people was replaced by an out-of-tune orchestra of crickets and the Eagles blasting from a radio somewhere in the neighbourhood, both flowing through the air with the flavour of barbecue.

Another day successfully wasted Michael thought and shifted on the couch. If only the TV would work, he could have spent it watching movies. Or not, because the tin can ramshackle got so hot during the day he could barely breathe there. Fucking Trevor. If it wasn't for him, he could be sitting by a pool full of ice, eating ice cream and slurping milkshakes from frozen tits. Maybe even pay the girl to ride him, so he didn't have to move a finger. Or better yet, tie Trevor up, throw him into his tailgater, lock him there and make him watch them fuck... But did he really want it? Wouldn’t he be the one who would instantly let him out and have a wild make up sex with him?

An annoyed grunt later, Michael lazily tugged on the hem of his, now very rural looking, tank top and dried his forehead with it. Something deep within knew he shouldn't have used the words Trevor and Fuck in one sentence because it awakened a part of him he should better let sleep. That part that supplied his tipsy brain with vivid images of long limbs locked around him, dark hair all over dirty pillows and amber eyes rolled back, set in a very flushed face... No, nope, it wasn't what he wanted to think about, in fact, he just wanted another beer. Yeah, another beer to make that awkward semi go away. And maybe strip off his top to make that damn heat go away? Yup, that was what he wanted. Aaaand a cigarette. Perfection.

"FUCK FUCK FUCK!"

Michael's half snore was interrupted by a sound of shutting the car door and heavy boots stomping through the cooling dust. A quick glance from the porch told him the Bodhi was back from where it took off in the morning, and there was a tall figure growling near it, shuffling some boxes in the back. For a second, Michael thought he actually moved back in time, because his back was killing him pretty much the same way it did in the morning with the same taste of beer on lips. The only detail that didn't quite match was that his torso was now naked and pearled with sweat, and there was quite a lot of bottles and cans right below the railing.

Slowly and carefully, Michael stood up and stretched like a fat cat after a good afternoon nap. Trevor was still caught up by the truck, which gave M enough time to step a bit closer to the stairs and lean on a post to regain stability while observing the sight right in front of him. Trevor never was the most ripped guy, but the way his arms bulged when he lifted a box made Michael weaker than he would admit, and the way his jeans perked up his ass when he squatted made his mouth dry. Why the hell did he have to wear that black sleeveless top? Michael thought. He knows whenever he does, we end up fucking...

Just as he lip his bit for thinking about T that way, his best friend turned around for the first time since he arrived and locked eyes with Michael. For a brief moment, he looked surprised, even taken aback by that idiotic drunk grin on Michael's face and the way he leaned against the only solid post of the house, but it soon was replaced by pure fury.

"What the fuck are you doing here?"

That was actually an excellent question. Or it would be, if Michael knew the answer to it.

"What? What do you mean?"

"You SLUT!!!"

Trevor charged towards him full speed in a split second and made Michael jump a little harder than he thought it would and jammed his lower back against the table, and both M and table cried in pain.

"What the fuck, Trevor! What's your fucking problem... ouch..."

Trevor leapt up the stairs, grabbed one of Michael's wrists and yanked him towards the door he kicked open.

"You fucking whore, YOU are the problem!"

Michael's brain quit the chat altogether and bailed out on him, leaving him staring on Trevor with gaping mouth and slightly raised eyebrows. He stumbled through the door, unable to free himself from Trevor's grip, and when T shut the door and threw him back first on them only to grab his shoulders to keep him still, all he could do was to stare into his fiery eyes.

"What were you thinking, showing off your tits to all our neighbours, huh?"

Michael gulped when Trevor leaned closer. Over the past few weeks, he learned the smell of gasoline and tobacco meant sloppy fucks on the kitchen counter and hungry kisses with bitten lips. That night, it all was topped with a gun powder.

"you dirty bitch, I leave you home alone for one day and when I come back what do I see? A pair of your slutty knockers right in my face."

His hands suddenly decided to fight his stupor, and as he felt Trevor's breath on his neck, he tugged on T's top and hungrily squeezed waist found there. The only answer was a deep purr and wet tip of Trevor's tongue right where his pulse drummed against the fine skin. With a small moan, he yanked Trevor closer and collided their hips, but Trevor was faster and grabbed both his wrists and pinned them against the tin door.

"You horny bitch, did showing off make you hot and wet? Or are you just happy to see me?"

Trevor's anger was gone, now replaced with his usual horniness, as he ground his hips against Michael's to let him know the thought got him hot too. And god that shit-eating grin on his face when he leaned in and bit Michael's lip, but didn't go for a full kiss... That was the point of no return. That fucking tease! Michael trashed under him and actually managed to get both hands freed just to leap forward and literally throw them both trough the bathroom door, for Trevor to land on the toilet bowl.

Michael could barely hear the sound of boxes and bottles clacking, falling to the dirty ground as he straddled Trevor and grabbed his head to steal that kiss he wanted since he saw him outside. Trevor just did his best to balance them both on the tiny bowl and waved his arms around, trying to grab onto something solid. Just as Michael decided to nib on Trevor's lip lightly and open T up for a nice french action, something hit the back of his head with an annoying accuracy. Then it clanked on the ground, followed by choked laughter and sound of plastic rustling. Michael instinctively shot up and stumbled back, massaging the hit place.

"Ouch! T, what the fuck was that?!"

"That was a shower curtain, cupcake... I must have torn it when you tried to flush us both down the bowl..."

"and you won't even say sorry you prick?"

"hmmm, how about showing you how sorry I am?"

Trevor possessed this strange ability to appear out of nowhere and cover M with kisses and hugs. Michael noticed only then how much taller Trevor really was when he was pinned against the shower wall and two hot hands slid past the waist of his jeans, kissing his lower lip too gently for Michael's liking. At first, he went with the flow, burying his fingers to Trevor's stubble and hair on the back of his head just to push him closer. Still, he set his mind to he didn't want it there, slow and gentle with water running down his back, not that night. Michael knew well when he brushes his tongue against Trevor's, pull back and bite his lip, T would not only let out a needy whimper, so unlike his manly growls, but he would also become weak enough to be pushed back to the kitchen where they could have much more fun. What he didn't count with was a nasty crunch under his foot when Trevor stumbled back towards the sink which immediately broke their kiss. A small moan of frustration made Michael more anxious for a moment than he would ever admit.

"What is it, T? Are you ok?"

"Fuck, Michael, you stepped on my laxatives!"

"What?"

"How am I supposed to shit without them?"

"Screw them, you won't need them when I'm done with you tonight."

"Gee how hot..."

But there was no way Michael would let Trevor finish that sentence - all he wanted was to pin him to the kitchen counter, tear those sweatpants apart and fuck him. Now it was him who stomped around, holding Trevor's hand and throwing him to the counter. It took him another second to grab a fist full of his hair and yank Trevor's head backwards to relish absolutely delicious silhouette of his throat with adam's apple bobbing up and down in excitement. Trevor's moans only fired him up further and probed the hardened bud under the black shirt - to a promising whimper and a force pushing him aside to which he willingly succumbed and let a pair of lips suck onto his own so hard he hit his head against a tv stand which cried in pain and fell apart along with the tv.

"Fuck Trevor...."

"Not now, Mikey, don't stop."

Michael felt the telltale twitch under his belly that watered down the pain and gave him enough power to roll over a couple of times, french kissing the fuck out of those perfect full lips, drawing nails to Trevor's now naked back and push his head closer. He almost didn't mind when the radio hit the ground and when Trevor threw him onto the table which made their beer spill on the filthy floor. With Trevor on top, latched onto his nipple and running his hand down to his tightened jeans, nothing could stop him from getting what he wanted. As he tried to kick his jeans off, there was a slight sensation on his foot, but nothing very clear. It could have been a cup or something - when suddenly Trevor bolted upwards, and Michael was forced to open his eyes and look into his horrified face.

"Trevor I swear this isn't funny, what is it this time..."

"Michael, we broke the Impotent Rage..."

"T are you trying to give me blue balls or what?"

"No, but you clearly want my home in shambles! Oh fuck look at that! This was a limited edition with a signature of the original cast!"

Trevor just emotionlessly bolted towards the couch, next to which lay a mass of broken blue plastic that might have been anything in Michael's opinion. And it was in the way of reaching destination orgasm which made him a tiny bit mad. Ok, maybe a lot.

"Pardon me, but it was you who put it to the wrong place! Why did you leave it on the shelf with all this trash? Why don't you just throw all this shit out?"

And with just one swing of the arm, he managed to throw the rest of Trevor's memorabilia to the floor where it shattered comfortably.

"And this whole place is a fucking dump! Have you ever heard about wall-mounted TV or glass shower door? When the fuck will you live somewhere normal? Jesus, what do I have to break to make this place look decent? And that stupid action figure? What's so special about it, anyway?"

He wouldn't regret it if Trevor didn't turn around with puppy eyes and didn't tell him in his hurt voice.

"Because it was a gift from you..."

Michael didn't quite know how he managed to pick Trevor up from the ground, bring him to the bed, plant gentle kisses to every inch of him and whisper he's so so sorry. He didn't even have to, because soon enough, Trevor pulled him closer again, rolled over on top of him and gave him a lesson from Canadian french that left Michael breathless. He just let it happen, running his hands all the way down from the back of Trevor's head, to feeling his stuble, chest hair, hard nipples and his raging boner, and his nails draw new tattoos on Trevor's back first and then drawing his fingers into soft inside of Trevor's tights enjoying the view of T riding him.

"Hey M..."

"Hm?"

Michael lit a cigarette, just relishing the sweaty and sticky afterglow with Trevor pressed close to his side.

"You broke my impotent rage, gimme that..."

And before he could say or do anything, Trevor snatched his last cigarette and inhaled so deep half of it was gone.

"Hey! Give it back!"

"Make me!"

Michael instantly shot up, determined to kiss that grin off Trevor's lips and lept forward only to bang his head against the headboard again. This time, Trevor didn't even try to hold back and let his bubbly laughter echo in Michael's aching head.

"Fuck you and fuck this damn trailer..."

"aww come on porkchop, you did both tonight - unless you are up for the round two?"

"Hmmm... Make me..."

#Trikey #kissing prompts #real_fanta_sea.fic

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kessielrg · 3 years

Text

[Kingdom Hearts] Of Memes and Regrets

Summary: In which Lea has a guest star for his YouTube's next Let's Play, and she perfectly steals the show from him.... again. [oneshot][platonic LeaxOC (AxelxOC)]

Rating: K+

Word Count: 2,412 words

If you liked this story, please reblog!

---

Lea glanced at the timer placed by his monitors and nearly tisked at the time.

She was late.

With a rather tired sigh, Lea started to work on making sure his software was still working right. Maybe while he was fiddling around with stuff, Sabrina would join the video chat so they could get a session done. He knew he should have asked Roxas to join again. Xion would be great to bring in too, if she wasn’t too busy working on her next article for her school’s paper. But alas, his subscribers had spoken, and they wanted Miss Priss and her insatiable need to annoy everyone. Especially him, apparently.

Not that he could blame them, she was great on camera.

Lea hummed as he booted up the game they were going to play. It was a review copy he had gotten a few days back, and he was actually looking forward to bumping it. He would be the first to admit to not being a big fan of the original franchise, but the graphics were crisp and the controls were smoother than butter. He knew Sabrina would have an appreciation for it too; as far as he could tell, the female characters were dressed sensibly- not at all designed just for the male gaze. They could have some fun talks about it when she got here. If she got here.

With the game running as expected, Lea started screen recording. He got a few minutes down before turning on his webcam as well. His face appeared on the screen to his left, with the game and recording software on the right. It was a good time to adjust lights while he was at it. Once that was settled, he began recording from the webcam as well. Lea admired himself in the webcam feedback for a moment. It was always better to overshoot, even if you weren’t really doing anything more than vocal warmups and adjusting your lighting.

Lea cleared his throat a bit before going through with his intro. He kept his tone bright and energetic. It was bad form to go in this early at full blast, but if Sabrina wasn’t going to remember their agreement, then he’d have to make due.

“Hey everybody, welcome back to AxelotlGaming! I’m Axel, and we were going to have a guest. Turns out she’s not coming, because at this point, we are well past being fashionably late.” Lea moved a bit away from the mic before grumbling, “It would’ve been nice if she actually bothered to tell me when she wasn’t coming. Could’ve been halfway through a recording by now.” He grimaced before remembering that he was still recording, so he turned back to the camera with a wide grin. He realized he was going to cut out a lot of his annoyance in editing later if he kept this up. The show always goes on, and whatnot.

“With or without our guest,” he went on to say to the webcam, “We’ve been sponsored to play the new-”

He hated to admit that he jumped when the ping for someone joining the video chat chimed. Lea quickly ended his recording softwares and accepted the newcomer. A new face appeared on the same monitor he kept his webcam feedback on, and he grimaced at seeing them.

“You’re late.” he huffed. He swiveled his car a bit just to glare at her feedback directly. Lea then almost proceeded to get knocked out of his seat looking at her.

Sabrina was a natural beauty and knew it. She was always light on her makeup regimen unless she was going to be seen on video or photograph. Today she did not plan on disappointing; her lips were painted a deep red, her cheeks the faintest of pinks to give the illusion of being an absolute sweetheart, and even the color around her eyes make them look more expressive. It was rather impressive- she must have worked on that for a good hour just to make sure she didn’t look like a raccoon.

“And now you realize why I’m late.” Sabrina smoothly told him, folding her arms with a smirk on her face. Even through the webcam, she looked so in control of everything. Lea didn’t know if it infuriated him, or was genuinely impressed.

“Yeah, yeah,” he said with a wave of his hand. “But know this, princess; just because I have an arguably easy job on paper, it doesn’t mean I don’t keep a schedule too. Got it memorized?”

“Just hire an editor.” she told him in the least of caring tones.

“No way!” he argued back. “I’ve got a certain method to my madness, and I’m not going to have someone else get their fingerprints all over it.”

“What a funny way of saying that no one else is as deranged as you.”

“Enough talk,” Lea then said to her with a clap of his hands, “We should be halfway through a session by now. Start up the game and make it snappy.”

Sabrina gave him a little wave of her hand before doing as she was told. She must have known how late she was- usually when someone told her to do something, her instinct was to react with the opposite. As she did that, Lea also went over his recording equipment and made sure he was recording as well.

“I’m ready when you are,” he decided. “Are you recording everything on your end?”

“Looks like it.” she agreed. Her eyes looked elsewhere for a moment- likely to check if everything was running smooth enough. When her eyes went back to the webcam, she settled back a bit in preparation for the next hour or so of recording.

“Are you doing the intro today?” she asked, gently placing a hand under her chin.

“My show, isn’t it?” Lea smirked. Knowing that she was ready meant it was time to start recording again. About time, too.

“Alright princess, put on your video face.” he warned her. “We’re getting serious in three… two…”

Both of them shifted in their spots slightly to appear more presentable. Lea gave them a few more moments of getting comfortable before going through his intro.

“Hey everybody, welcome back to AxelotlGaming! I’m Axel, and today I’ve got a very special guest. Special guest, why don’t you introduce yourself. Not that you need it, of course.”

“Of course.” Sabrina smoothly agreed, even twisting a piece of her hair. She looked at the webcam before giving a double wave to it. Her voice carried a perkiness never seen before as she said, “Hey guys! You asked for me, so here I am! Your favorite Lady Sabi here to show up, ah, I mean, play with Axel today.”

“So humble.” Lea playfully retorted. Sabrina only gave a wide -rather smug- smile in return.

“What are we playing today, Axel?” she cheerfully chirped. For a moment, Lea wondered if he was friends with a bubbly airhead instead of a pessimistic downer.

“We’ve been sponsored to play the new Blue Bomber MMO called ‘Renegade Chaser.’” he said, gesturing his hands to the side. He’ll edit in the box art during post. “Designed with old and new fans alike, Renegade Chaser can be played online and off with both multiplayer and single player modes.”

“Sell out.” Sabrina coughed into her hand.

“Yeah, well,” Lea mused, “Not all of us get free stuff just by looking pretty on Instagram. Of course, with almost a million followers at PrincessSabiAes2012, you’ve almost got enough influence to carry this channel on your own.”

“Nice plug.”

“Why thank you.”

“Bad rep for you though.”

“Why thank you.”

Sabrina let out a genuine laugh at his misfortune. But this was the kind of repertoire his subscribers enjoyed between them. Just hearing her laugh gave him a vision of a future comment along the lines of ‘hearing Sabi laugh at Axel adds 9,999 years to my life.’ Too bad the actual object of Sabrina’s -disguised- affection wasn’t on YouTube much, let alone have an account. Which was all for the best- he didn’t want to admit it, but Ventus got jealous real easy. Embarrassingly easy, depending on who you asked.

“Now that you’ve harassed me and we’re not even a minute in, how about we pop into game and see what we’ve got?”

“Let’s.” Sabrina agreed with a sweet little nod.

Lea stole a look at her as she adjusted some things on her end to make sure her game footage was being recorded. Lea chastised himself for being so focused on her. He needed to stop getting distracted by her Clark Kent-ing her onscreen persona. But the switch was just so… uncanny, to put it in the nicest terms possible. There’s no wonder that despite her near million followers, Sabrina had yet to be recognized by any of them in person.

Lea shivered before continuing with his show. Two minutes of recording down, another 58 to go.

. . .

You could tell Sabrina was having a hard time getting used to the game because for ten straight minutes she did nothing but harass Lea instead. Not that it wasn’t to be expected- she was a puzzle girl, not a shoot-em-up girl. That being said, once she figured out the controls, she was nigh unstoppable. She even managed to figure out the special weapons before Lea could. Of course he called her a cheater for it. As long as it was in good fun, who really cared- right?

Another disorienting thing about Sabrina; she kept going from her usual snark to bubbly sunshine in mere seconds. The true (or as true as she wanted to be) part of her came through when she was at her most frustrated. It was yet another thing that his regular viewers came to appreciate of her. A lot of viewers really hated her bubbly self, even though it was arguably when she dished the most one-liners. Lea knew she was actually having a good time when she let the side of her he usually saw come through. That little lady knew how to be a savage and thrived in it.

One such occasion happened during this session. While the two were playing around with the various modes the game had, Lea had found a one-on-one free-for-all that the two took to immediately. Sabrina got so into beating him that he had to talk directly to her or else all commentary would have gone flat. Every word that came out of Sabrina’s mouth was straight from her mind, with no conscious censoring in the slightest. Lea feared so much for her that he intentionally threw the match. He did put up a fight- but it was definitely one of their shorter matches. Sabrina didn’t seem to notice as the victory screen appeared for her.

“Yes!” Sabrina gleefully declared, slamming her hands into her desk before giving her chair a spin. As the chair slowly came to a halt, she threw one of her hands over her head and gave an absolutely satisfied expression.

Lea knew right away that the moment his viewers saw that reaction, there were going to be memes of it. He could practically see them now- a really poor screenshot of that slightly worrying pose she was making, Impact font saying stuff like 'when bae buys you tacos without asking' or 'when Lea's such a moron and makes winning easy.' He'd have to ask her for her footage. He could emphasize the moment to help make some of those insufferable jpegs look slightly better.

It wouldn't have been so bad, but Sabrina was already the source of one of his channel's memes. 'Scrub my feet, peasant' was a line uttered during one Monopoly match that did not go in Lea's favor. Sabrina had also made a rather memorable pose in her chair, coupled with a rather smug face. It became so popular that Lea had to get her permission to make it into a t-shirt. Both Sabrina and his viewers had yet to live it down; Sabrina wearing the shirt anytime she knew the two of them would be in the same room together, and his viewers still made comments that referenced the line.

Good thing she was more of an Instagram queen and not a YouTuber. Lea would probably lose half his subscribers the moment she actually posted videos of her own.

“Heh, I let you win, my lady.” Lea boasted. This realization came to Sabrina with a slow grimace.

“You did.” she said in disappointment. She then smirked at him (not at the camera, but him directly on the screen), before spitting, “There are other ways to flirt with me than making me look superior to you.”

“Oh yeah?” Lea snorted. “Like what?”

Sabrina then smirked like she was taking on a challenge.

“Oh Axel,” she purred into her microphone. Almost immediately, Lea could feel the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. “If you wanted a mistress to teach you how bad of a boy you are, you could have just asked. This doesn’t have to be hard.” She paused for a moment, just to make it dramatic. “Unless you want to be…”

Lea was dead certain that his soul left his body for a hot second. His face absolutely betrayed him, though. He looked away just to hide how red it was.

“Oh well, just look at the time.” Lea decided, already reaching for the keyboard key to finish the recording. “We’re all gamed out for the day. Thank you for watching!”

“But Axel, we still have ten-”

“Thanks for watching!” he loudly declared before smacking the keyboard key. Not long after, his head hit the desk in both relief and frustration.

“Are you alright?” Sabrina questioned, a teasing smirk still on her lips.

“God I hate you.”

“You gonna be alright with that nosebleed?”

“Shut up.” Lea whined.

Sabrina just laughed at him. To rub salt into the wound, she ended the video chat mid-laugh. It was far too effective in leaving a phantom image of her on his mind. Lea let out another groan as he thought about his viewers’ reaction. This was going to be an episode to remember, he had no doubt about it. It was likely going to fuel even more rumors that the two had the hots for each other- which was the last thing he wanted.

He really needed to stop inviting her back.

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