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elitehunter · 2 years

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Masterlist and Info

Elitehunter Fanfiction / Masterlist

Multi-Wrestler Series:

Familiar Faces:

Go Your Own Way (Matt Jackson x Original Female Character)

When Matt runs into a face from his past, it’s hard for him to deny that he hasn’t thought of her often. There’s just one little problem – five years ago he broke her heart. And now her older brother has made it his mission to hunt down Matt and the rest of the Elite and make them pay.

Rated: E Warnings: smut, explicit language, canon typical violence, daddy kink/dirty talk, oral sex, phone sex, mentions of character death (past, referenced), tw: drunk driving (past, referenced) Chapters: 10/10 Word Count: 52,114 Read On: AO3

Something’s Gotta Give (Hangman Adam Page x Original Female Character)

Following the loss at Fight for the Fallen, Hangman Adam Page finds himself at a crossroads. He also finds himself staring down the face of something he never expected. A once in a lifetime chance. It’s time to decide – is it “cowboy shit” (reaching out and grabbing what you want with both hands) or another anxious millennial set back?

Rated: E Warnings: smut, explicit language, canon typical violence, alcohol consumption Chapters: 7/7 Word Count: 32,076 Read On: AO3

Right Place, Right Time:

I’m On A Blood Buzz (I Never Thought About Love When I Thought About Home) (Nick Jackson x Original Female Character)

When Nick is tasked with traveling to wrestling schools to simultaneously scout talent and spread some good will in the wrestling community, he isn’t exactly thrilled. And when someone points him in the direction of a gym he’s never heard of in rural Ontario, he doesn’t expect to find anyone worth noting. Boy, was he wrong.

Rated: E Warnings: smut, explicit language, canon typical violence, alcohol Chapters: 7/7 Word Count: 36,234 Read On: AO3

I’m A Drifter (And I Know That Doesn’t Do Me Any Good)(Hangman Adam Page x Original Female Character)

When he pictured himself being so close to the World Heavyweight Championship again, he never imagined it would be against his former tag partner. Poised an inch away from his dream and feeling miles away from his former friends, Hangman Adam Page considers taking his shot to get something else he’s been been wanting. If only he can make his move. Is what he wants just a kiss away or is he too late? Is it actually what he wants at all?

Rated: E Warnings: smut, explicit language, canon typical violence, alcohol Chapters: 2/7 Word Count: 11,725 and counting Read On: AO3

Summer’s Here and the Time is Right for Fighting in the Street, Boy: Bar Fights and Brawls:

You’re Such an Instigator, You Wanna Play the Game. Take It or Leave It, That’s Her (My Lucky Strike) (Shawn Spears x Original Female Character)

Shawn and his girlfriend go out for drinks with some friends, but when some of the other patrons get out of hand and she decides to get involved, of course, he’s going to back her up. He’d follow her into a battle any day of the week without being asked.

Rated: T Warnings: implied sexual content, non-graphic violence, alcohol consumption, cursing. Word Count: 6,537 Read On: AO3

She Knows How To Treat a Fella Right (Wants to Make Love When I Wanna Fight. Now Someone Understands Me) (Wheeler Yuta x Original Female Character)

Wheeler Yuta returns from the Best of Super Juniors tournament and finds a new unfamiliar face around Blackpool Combat Club. Daughter of one of William Regal’s old friends, he finds that everyone seems to like her. Except him. He doesn’t like her at all.

Until he does.

Rated: T Warnings: implied sexual content, non-graphic violence, alcohol consumption, cursing. Word Count: 4,596 Read On: AO3

I Won’t Lie To You (I Know That He’s Just Not Right For You) (Jeff Parker x Original Female Character)

She’s known Matt her entire life and Jeff since they came down to Florida to pursue their dream. Jeff’s never been shy about voicing what’s wrong with the guys that she dates. And normally, he’s right. But when her heart is broken and her ex proves himself a jerk by sharing photos of her that should have stayed private with all of his friends, she tries to let it go. Jeff has other ideas.

Rated: T Warnings: non-graphic violence, alcohol consumption, cursing, men, revenge porn kind of sort of in that her ex is sharing photos of her without permission post-breakup Word Count: 5,143 Read On: AO3

One of These Days, You and Me, Babе, We Will Spill the Wholе Bucket and Paint This Town(Hangman Adam Page x Original Female Character)

He’d been anxious lately. But in a different way than normal. He wasn’t doubting himself. Instead, it was like there was something in the pit of his stomach that had his fingers curling into fists with nowhere to direct it. When a childhood friend of Silver’s shows up and John invites him out with them to blow off some steam, Hangman hopes it’s exactly what he needs. But sometimes things don’t go to plan. And other times, things work out in an unexpectedly perfect way.

Rated: T Warnings: non-graphic violence, alcohol consumption, cursing, homophobia Word Count: 4,313 Read On: AO3

Multi-Wrestler Stories

I'm Trapped By Your Love. And I'm Chained To Your Side (Love Is A Battlefield) (MJF x OFC, Wardlow x OFC, MJF x OFC x Wardlow)

When Izzie meets MJF, she takes one look at the attitude and bravado and decides that he could use a friend. When MJF meets Izzie, he doesn't expect her to turn his life upside down by making him want to be better. When Izzie meets Wardlow, she thinks that he probably hates her and sees her as a chore. When Wardlow meets Izzie, he wishes that she wasn't already so attached to a man he doesn't think deserves her. This is their story - and you get to choose how it ends. (Written for WrestleBang '22)

Rating: E Warnings: explicit sexual content, love triangles, angst, threesome (m/f/m), explicit language, dirty talk, alcohol consumption. Word Count: 47,808 Read On: AO3

Lance Archer:

One-shots:

I Thought Love Was Only True In Fairy Tales (Meant for Someone Else but Not for Me) (Lance Archer x Original Female Character)

Lance meets her in a bar and is immediately enamored by her. When she walks out of his life the same night she walked into it, he assumes he’ll never see her again. But things have a funny way of working out and it turns out she’s more familiar with him that he realized. But is something between the two of them doomed from the start?

Rated: T Warnings: implied sexual situations Word Count: 12,325 Read On: AO3

Malakai Black:

One-shots:

Go On and Just Heal My Hungry Heart (Get Me Through This Part) (Malakai Black x Original Female Character)

Sammie has just gone through a breakup and all she wants to do is spend a week in her pajamas eating ice cream and binging tv shows. When her roommate insists that going out and finding a one-night stand is a better option, she reluctantly agrees to at least grab a drink. What she doesn’t expect is a mysterious man to capture her attention and give her exactly what she didn’t realize she wanted.

Rated: E Warnings: explicit sexual content, explicit language Word Count: 6,132 Read On: AO3

Christian Cage:

Series: To All The Wrestlers I’ve Loved Before:

Don’t You Know That Only Fools Are Satisfied? Dream On, But Don’t Imagine They’ll All Come True (OR, To All the Wrestlers I’ve Loved Before) (Christian Cage x fem!Reader)

You work for AEW and have become close friends with Jurassic Express and – through them – many others. Which has been great until Christian shows up – the man you’ve been a little infatuated with ever since you were just a fan. Your meddling friends try to get you to admit how you’re feeling, but you refuse. So when one of them suggests at least just writing it down to get it out of your head you begrudgingly agree. After all, it’ll help get all those thoughts about him out of your head and it’s not like he’ll ever read it.

Rated: G Warnings: some angst. meddling friends Word Count: 4,491 Read On: AO3

[REDUX] Don’t You Know That Only Fools Are Satisfied? Dream On, But Don’t Imagine They’ll All Come True (OR. Holy Shit) (Christian Cage x fem!Reader)

Rated: G Warnings: some angst. meddling friends Word Count: 2,033 Read On: AO3

You Can’t Be Everything You Want To Be Before Your Time. Although It’s So Romantic On The Borderline Tonight (OR. To All The Wrestlers: P.S. I Still Love You) (Christian Cage x fem!Reader)

After Christian discovers your crush on him in the least fortunate way possible, you’re not sure where you stand and just want to put your embarrassment behind you. But your friends have some other ideas and – wait, is Stu asking you on a date? And is a certain Captain Charisma jealous? Good intentions lead to further misunderstandings. But you still have your doubts things will work out like a fairy tale. But that’s okay. Life’s not a fairy tale. Right?

Rated: G Warnings: some angst. meddling friends Word Count: 4,594 Read On: AO3

You Better Cool It Off Before You Burn It Out. You Got So Much To Do and Only So Many Hours in a Day (OR To All The Wrestlers I’ve Loved Before: Always and Forever) (Christian Cage x fem!Reader)

You’ve been dating Christian for a little while now, but things haven’t progressed between the two of you the way you’d expected. It starts to make you wonder if he really wants you and makes you insecure. Christian is all too happy to silence your doubts, but there’s also something he has to tell you - something that could cost you two your relationship.

Rated: E Warnings: explicit sexual content, dirty talk, oral sex, age difference, angst, emotional manipulation, betrayal, non-graphic canon-typical injury. Word Count: 6,215 Read On: AO3

Orange Cassidy:

Series: In The Dark/In The Light:

Forget About the Things You Think I Know – No Secrets, You Can’t Keep Me (In The Dark) (Orange Cassidy x fem!Reader)

A pitch-black haunted house, a hotel hallway, an escape room. What do all three of these things have in common? Well, here’s a hint. They all involve Orange Cassidy and your suddenly-developing crush on him. You think that maybe he feels the same way, but the man is impossible to get a read on. Does it mean anything – or is it just whatever?

Rated: G Warnings: light angst Word Count: 3,882 Read On: AO3

[REDUX] Don’t Ask God, He Never Asked You. It’s Not His Heart You Drove a Knife Through (In The Dark) (Orange Cassidy x fem!Reader)

Rated: G Warnings: light angst Word Count: 2,264 Read On: AO3

(In The Light) You Will Find the Road. Oh, Did You Ever Believe That I Could Leave You Standing Out In The Cold? (Orange Cassidy x fem!Reader)

After a misunderstanding between you and Orange creates an awkward dynamic between you and your group of friends, you try and fail a couple of times to set the record straight. Frustrated with how it’s going, the Best Friends decide to do what friends do best – meddle in your personal lives because they’re sick of waiting for you both to get your act together. Retold from Orange’s perspective

Rated: G Warnings: light angst Word Count: 3,191 Read On: AO3

One-shots:

Worrying’s “Not Cool" (Orange Cassidy x fem!Reader)

You try not to take it personally when he doesn’t pay you much mind. But you wish he would. His best friends are your friends and you’ve accepted that you just haven’t broken through and a simple thumbs up and thumbs down from behind mirrored shades are all you’re going to get. Until one day when your clumsiness gets the better of you and the person running up to you when they hear you’re hurt is the one person you thought never rushed to do anything. Why is the guy that never seems to worry about much so concerned?

Rated: G Warnings: Use of pain medication – but not in a substance abuse way. In a properly prescribed and appropriate for the situation way. It does make the user a little loopy though. Word Count: 965 Read On: AO3

Adam Cole:

One-shots:

You Don’t Know Him Like I Do (Adam Cole x Original Female Character)

When most people say “You don’t know him the way I do,” it’s easy to dismiss it as someone making excuses for giving their heart to the wrong person. But that’s not the case when it comes to Adam. You know a different side of him. A place grown from friendship from the moment that you met. Another big difference is that you haven’t given him your heart.

Rated: G Warnings: none Word Count: 1,271 Read On: AO3

David Finlay:

One-shots:

(And If You Doubt That Paris Was Made for Love) Give Paris One More Chance (David Finlay x Original Female Character)

At 19, David Finlay felt like he had the world at his feet and all he had to do was pick it up. That was when he met her. The one that got away. Now, at 29, he's less sure things are ever that simple. He doesn't expect a one-off match at AEW to put him in front of her again. And he quickly has to realize that she didn't get away, he let her go without ever meaning to and winning her back might something else that's not that simple. Rated: T Warnings: angst, implied sexual situations (but no actual smut). mentions of death of a parent. mentions of alcohol consumption. Word Count: 14,679 Read On: AO3

Maxwell Jacob Friedman:

Series: The Bet:

(You Better You Bet) I Sometimes Feel I Should Just Go Home But I’m Dealing With A Memory That Never Forgets (MJF x fem!Reader)

After a string of bad dates you somehow wind up involved in a wager with one of your least favorite people. MJF. When the man with the revolving door of one night stands claims he can go on more successful dates than you, you set the terms and get started. If you win, you get to torment MJF by taking him on the worst date in the world. If he wins, you have to act as his personal assistant for a full week. You’re definitely going to win because he’s intolerable and devoid of all charm. Right?

Rated: G Warnings: men Word Count: 2,577 Read On: AO3

[REDUX] (You Better You Bet) Know Only Fools Have Needs But This One Never Begs (MJF x fem!Reader)

Rated: G Warnings: men Word Count: 2,466 Read On: AO3

(You Better You Bet) I Know What I’m Giving. I’ve Got It All Down to a Tee and It’s Free (MJF x fem!Reader)

The bet is over and you’ve emerged technically victorious. Planning the worst date ever for MJF could mean a lot of things, but you decide to put your own spin on it and have some fun. But he’s definitely only going on this date because he lost, right? And you’re definitely only spending time with him because you won, right?

Rated: G Warnings: men Word Count: 3,309 Read On: AO3

(You Better You Bet) I Know What I’m Giving. I’ve Got It All Down to a Tee and It’s Free (MJF x fem!Reader)

Two weeks after the conclusion of the bet that brought you two together, you and Max spend the weekend in Manhattan. Knowing your abysmal dating history, Max goes out of his way to make what could have been a visit to an old high school friend's art show into an impressive perfect date. But when there's only one bed, old bullies rear their ugly heads, and he's equally new to the idea of a real relationship - are the odds against him? A betting man might say yes. You might say otherwise.

Rated: E Warnings: explicit sexual content, oral sex, mentions of bullying, mentions of anti-semitism Word Count: 8,542 Read On: AO3

One-shots:

Everyone Has A Secret, But Can They Keep It? (No, They Can’t) (MJF x fem!Reader)

You’re one of Sammy Guevara’s best friends, a member of the Vlog Crew - and you love your friends dearly. But there’s a secret you’ve been keeping from them and that’s your relationship with Maxwell Jacob Friedman. When the man who you’ve been getting to know in secret seems reluctant to make anything public, you assume he doesn’t care about you the same way you do about him and resolve to walk away. Until the cat gets let out of the bag and everything becomes that much more complicated.

Rated: G Warnings: Cursing, alcohol consumption, car accidents Word Count: 4,555 Read On: AO3

I Don’t Mind You Coming Here And Wasting All My Time. ‘Cause When You’re Standing Oh So Near I Kinda Lose My Mind (I Guess You’re Just What I Needed) (MJF x fem!Reader)

A chance meeting outside of a hotel while you’re in town for a job interview leads to unlikely friendships with members of The Pinnacle. And while their egotistical and arrogant leader initially makes you roll your eyes and scoff, it turns out this trip might lead your life in an unexpected direction and that your first impressions might have been off base.

Rated: G Warnings: Language Word Count: 2,976 Read On: AO3

I Put Your Picture Away (MJF x fem!Reader)

You’re contracted as a photographer to do some promotional shoots for AEW and you’re having a great time. Until you’re in the room with the Pinnacle and you think that you might suffocate under the weight of MJF’s enormous ego. You snap at him. and it might be unprofessional. But you’re likely never going to see him again after this job wraps, right? (Wrong.)

Rated: E Warnings: smut, explicit language, oral sex, unprotected sex Word Count: 7,426 Read On: AO3

The Law of Opposites (MJF and Reader)

For reasons no one can figure out you’re best friend is the man commentary has described as “the most hated person in professional wrestling.” But when you need him, he’s there. And after your first no disqualification match at AEW, he’s there to help make sure you’re in one piece.

Rated: T Warnings: mentions of blood, language, mentions of injury Word Count: 1,059 Read On: AO3

You Got All The Power, Baby (And I’m Your Trusted Queen) (MJF x fem!Reader)

You’re visiting your boyfriend for the first time in weeks but on your way through the halls backstage, someone else thinks it’s a good idea to try to turn your head. Too bad your boyfriend has a short fuse and zero tolerance for anyone trying to take what’s his. Too bad for the other guy, that is. For you, it’s all too good.

Rated: E Warnings: smut, dirty talk, degradation, oral sex Word Count: 2,110 Read On: AO3

You Just Might Make The Nice List (MJF x fem!Reader)

You’re thrilled to be going home for Christmas to see your parents and you’re just as excited to be bringing home your boyfriend. You know that most people dismiss or despise him, but that’s because they don’t get to see the side of him that you get to see. But wait – what’s that? These texts weren’t meant for you.

Rated: G Warnings: Language Word Count: 1,930 Read On: AO3

You’re Cute When You’re Pissed (MJF x fem!Reader)

When AEW rolls into town you’re thrilled to catch up with Dax, an old family friend who’s always been like family to you. But when you meet the rest of the Pinnacle, you can’t help but have a little fun at their leader’s expense – especially not when he’s copping an attitude and being so serious. You make it your mission to get under his skin a little bit. But is that him creeping under yours, too?

Rated: G Warnings: Alcohol consumption Word Count: 3,106 Read On: AO3

Stu Grayson:

One-shots:

I Guess You’d Say: What Could Make Me Feel This Way (My Girl) (Stu Grayson x Original Female Character)

Following the Halloween match against the Elite, Dark Order goes out to celebrate with Hangman. While they’re out, the group loses track of Stu only for him to show up the next day claiming he met the perfect girl. Given his track record, they’re a little wary to believe him when she sounds too good to be true. OR Stu Grayson and the (Really!)Real Girl (Really?)

Rated: G Warnings: alcohol consumption Word Count: 2,866 Read On: AO3

Matt Jackson:

One-shots:

All She Wants to Do is Dance (And Make Romance) (Matt Jackson x fem!Reader)

Working for Tony Khan has brought you close to much of the talent and staff and AEW. Including one EVP in particular. But when things change and you’re not sure where you two stand, you both pull back a bit. But the last song is playing, Young Buck – so it’s time to put up or shut up. OR Five times you dance without Matt Jackson and one time you dance together.

Rated: G Warnings: none Word Count: 2,712 Read On: AO3

Can’t You See (What That Man, Lord, What He Been Doin’ To Me)? (Matt Jackson x fem!Reader)

You work for AEW and have been dating Matt Jackson for a little while now. You’re reluctant to let him in on why you’re having such a bad day at first. But it’s Matt – and he can always pick up on when something is wrong. And he always knows how to fix it, too.

Rated: G Warnings: none Word Count: 2,135 Read On: AO3

Everything’s Going to Be Fine (Matt Jackson x fem!Reader)

Your husband has been distracted and is having trouble sleeping lately. Your family is growing and so priorities are shifting. But it just takes a little late night talk – and some chocolate pudding – to put his mind at ease.

Rated: G Warnings: Mentions of pregnancy Word Count: 1,170 Read On: AO3

Feels Like Home (Matt Jackson x fem!Reader)

The first time you meet Matt Jackson, you’re just a kid who’s in class with his brother. He doesn’t pay you any mind at all. And you’re too busy struggling with being raised by an alcoholic single mother and trying to find a way to a brighter future and better sense of home to chase after him. Until you start to think that maybe that home and future are with him. Or. Five times you turn down Matt Jackson’s invitation to dinner and the one time you say yes.

Rated: T Warnings: alcohol abuse, child neglect, some almost-crime. No one winds up hurt or anything. Word Count: 3,181 Read On: AO3

Just Give Me That (Matt Jackson x fem!Reader)

You’ve been working for AEW and sleeping with Matt Jackson but lately things between you two are strained. When he starts barely giving you the time of day at work, you ask yourself if you can keep doing casual and physical with him. A little angst but with a happy ending.

Rated: M Warnings: vulgar language / referenced dirty talk Word Count: 1,250 Read On: AO3

And I Know Things Can’t Last Forever (Just the Scent of You, It Makes Me Hurt. So How’s It You that Makes Me Better?) (Matt Jackson x Original Female Character)

After dating and living with Matt for years, their relationship has run its course. When Matt comes to get the rest of his things, the two decide to make one more good memory together before letting one another go.

Rated: E Warnings: break up sex, end of a relationship, sexual content, angst Word Count: 4,940 Read On: AO3

I would yell like a rebel, take the pain with the pleasure – just to get to you (Matt Jackson x Original Female Character)

Stood up for a date and finding herself sitting alone in a hotel bar, she’s not sure what to think when she turns and finds herself face-to-face with one of the most gorgeous men she’s ever seen. She’s really not the kind of woman to take a leap like this with a stranger but everything about him says that he’s the person who can fulfill the secret fantasies she’s kept hidden.

Rated: E Warnings: smut, dirty talk, kink negotiation, daddy kink, unprotected sex, very light degradation. Word Count: 8,402 Read On: AO3

(Love These Days is Getting Rough) It Knocks You Down Then Beats You Up (Matt Jackson x fem!Reader)

It’s All Out weekend and you’ve got the opportunity of a lifetime – a spot in the Women’s Casino Battle Royale. But things don’t go to plan – for you or for the man you’ve been seeing in secret. And suddenly, you’re wondering if your relationship isn’t what you thought it was.

Rated: G Warnings: light angst Word Count: 6,148 Read On: AO3

Sick Days (Matt Jackson x fem!Reader)

You’ve got a big presentation coming up for work, two sick kids in the house, and your husband is back from the road for a few days at home. What could possibly go wrong?

Rated: G Warnings: none Word Count: 1,315 Read On: AO3

Nick Jackson:

One-shots:

In Sickness and in Health (Nick Jackson x fem!Reader)

Your husband is home for a few weeks and you can’t wait to spend time with your family and get to the things you’ve been putting off while he’s on the road. But a notice from the school changes everything.

Rated: G Warnings: none ending. Word Count: 2,573 Read On: AO3

This Love (Has Taken Its Toll On Me) (Nick Jackson x fem!Reader)

Your relationship with your live-in boyfriend, Nick Jackson, has hit a point of no return. Consistently arguing and hurting the other’s feelings in a way that isn’t fair to either of you. While you have every intention of using this weekend to try to fix things, sometimes the cracks in the foundation are just too deep.

Rated: T Warnings: implied sexual content, angst. no fluffy ending. Word Count: 2,077 Read On: AO3

You Can’t Go the Distance With Too Much Resistance (It’s A Matter of Trust) (Nick Jackson x fem!Reader)

You’re used to going it alone and not relying on others. Since you joined AEW though, Brandon Cutler has become the closest friend you’ve had in a while. You adore him, but you still have reservations about the Elite. Now, as your rivalry with the Bunny heats up and you’re facing the opportunity of a lifetime you don’t have much choice but to start learning how to trust them. You don’t expect how much they’ll surprise you – especially not one that you thought, until recently, you couldn’t stand.

Rated: G Warnings: light angst Word Count: 6,915 Read On: AO3

Eddie Kingston:

One-shots:

Right Where You Left Me (Eddie Kingston x fem!Reader)

You tend to be the person other people come to talk to backstage at AEW. Everyone from CM Punk to Daniel Garcia will come to the unofficial therapist of AEW – just someone to lend an ear. But it’s been awhile since your favorite person backstage has come to you. In fact, he’s been avoiding you for a while: Eddie Kingston. When things start to boil over between some of your newer friends and the person you’ve been missing for months now – will the two of you finally get your act together and start talking again?

Rated: G Warnings: language Word Count: 2,950 Read On: AO3

You Gotta Know When To Hold ‘Em (Eddie Kingston x fem!Reader)

Ever since you came to work at AEW and spend time with your old friend, Jon Moxley, you’ve also been spending a lot of time with Eddie Kingston. Up to your usual level of antics, the two of you wind up in a game with some pretty high stakes – but you’re pretty sure no matter how it goes, it looks like it might work out well for both of you.

Rated: T Warnings: Language, non-descriptive nudity Word Count: 1,061 Read On: AO3

Hangman Adam Page:

One-shots:

Lights, Camera, Action (Hangman Adam Page x fem!Reader)

Dark Order is filming another movie with Hangman at the helm. You, worried about the safety involved with some of their newest antics, are not entertained by your lovable group of friends. So you agree to stick around and oversee filming and make sure they’re not doing anything TOO crazy. But wait…how did you end up acting in it?

Rated: G Warnings: none. I mean this is honestly BTE level crack and chaos and then fluff Word Count: 2,183 Read On: AO3

A Strawberry Has Secret Flavors (That Are Sharp And Tart And Red And Deep) (Hangman Adam Page x Reader)

Your relationship with everyone’s favorite anxious millenial cowboy starts off at work, grows to friendship, and leads somewhere great. It’s not always smooth sailing, but you help each other along the way. OR Five times you help Hangman through his anxiety and doubt and one time he helps you. OR A love letter from EliteHunter to anyone dealing with their anxiety.

Rated: G Warnings: anxiety, anxiety attacks, panic attacks, Word Count: 2,252 Read On: AO3

Ethan Page:

Series: Ethan’s!Reader:

Easier When You’re Home (Ethan Page x fem!Reader)

It’s a relief when your husband is home from the road, giving you a little bit of reprieve from juggling work, your two children, and everything else you have up in the air. After a long day where everything seemed to go wrong, all you’re looking forward to is some peace and quiet with your family.

Rated: G Warnings: none Word Count: 1,115 Read On: AO3

All Treats, No Tricks (Ethan Page x fem!Reader)

One night after a Halloween party where you just want to go home, you’re finding it impossible to get an Uber. You’re surprised when you find yourself face to face with one of your least favorite people in your social circle. But it turns out he’s full of surprises.

Rated: G Warnings: none Word Count: 1,887 Read On: AO3

The Plans and Promises We Made (Ethan Page x fem!Reader)

Your family has been through its share of ups and downs, but you’ve always come out of it on the other side together. You make a pretty strong team. OR – Five times that the Page family panics and needs to go to the hospital, and one time that they’re completely calm.

Rated: T Warnings: TRIGGER WARNING: Pregnancy loss/miscarriage (not in a lot of detail, but if you want to skip this, don’t read the section labeled “2015″ and skip down to “2018,”) pregnancy and mentions of, mentions of serious illness Word Count: 2,491 Read On: AO3

A Very Good Find (Ethan Page x fem!Reader)

Joining your husband on the road ahead of a big match with your kids isn’t what you would call a relaxing vacation. And when Ethan uses some of the time you’d set aside for the family to go on a Toy Hunt with the guys, you know he’s been stressed so you don’t make a big deal of it. Besides, it doesn’t take much for your half of the Men of the Year to remind you why he’s a strong candidate for Father of the Year, too.

Rated: G Warnings: none Word Count: 1,776 Read On: AO3

Daughters Will Love Like You Do (Ethan Page x fem!Reader)

A school dance, a birthday present, a middle of the night FaceTime call, and your husband Ethan going off the deep-end worrying that your little girl is growing up too fast. Just another glimpse into life at home with the Page family.

Rated: G Warnings: none Word Count: 2,799 Read On: AO3

‘Cause Your Love is Better Than Any Love I Know. It’s Like Thunder – Lightning (The Way You Love Me is Frightenin’) (Ethan Page x fem!Reader)

A surprise party for your birthday with lots of familiar faces. But the get-together isn’t the only thing your husband has up his sleeve.

Rated: G Warnings: none Word Count: 2,977 Read On: AO3

Jeff Parker (aka Angelo):

Series: Pony (Male Stripper AU)

Gotta Be Compatible, Takes Me to My Limits (Girl, When I Break You Off — I Promise That You Won’t Want to Get Off) (Jeff Parker x fem!Reader)

A strip club wouldn’t be her first choice for her sister’s bachelorette party, but she was just along for the ride. While the others enjoy the fun, she’s approached by a handsome stranger who makes her an offer she can’t refuse. A private dance in a backroom turns into something she wasn’t expecting to find. OR The Jeffelo Parker stripper AU no one asked for or needed.

Rated: E Warnings: alcohol, explicit sexual content with enthusiastic consent (Jeffelo Parker is a consent king – no one can convince me otherwise), dirty talk, praise kink, unprotected sex (but really only because the author wanted to get to the smut. Not as a plot point), lapdance, thigh riding, dry humping, oral sex Word Count: word count: 10,367 Read On: AO3

I'm Just a Bachelor, I'm Looking For a Partner (Someone Who Knows How to Ride Without Even Falling Off)

A year after he meets the girl of his dreams at the strip club where he works as a dancer, Jeff is ready to marry her. He told the guys that for his bachelor party, he just wanted a relaxed night of dinner and drinks — no strippers. What does he do when they stop at his place before hitting the bar and he finds the most gorgeous woman he's ever seen waiting in the hallway to give him a private dance the night before his wedding? Don't worry — it's not what you think. OR The sequel no one asked for to the Jeffelo Parker stripper AU no one asked for or needed.

Rated: E Warnings: alcohol, explicit sexual content, lap dances, just a smidge of praise kink Word Count: 5,459 Read On: AO3

One-Shots:

If You Ask Me How I'm Doing, I Would Say I'm Doing Just Fine (I Would Lie and Say That You're Not on My Mind) (Jeff Parker x OFC)

When they got together, they promised that her ties to Eddie, Mox, and Ortiz wouldn't interfere with what happened between them — that they could keep it separate. But aligning with Jericho was the straw that broke the camel's back — and she'd walked away claiming he'd changed too much. Now, with Daniel Garcia considering leaving their merry band of sports entertainers, he's even more aware of her absence. He feels her every time she walks into a room, or maybe he just hopes she's there.

Rated: G Warnings: angst, open/ambiguous ending Word Count: 3,428 Read On: AO3

Then I Saw Her Face, Now I’m A Believer (I Couldn’t Leave Her If I Tried) (Jeff Parker x fem!Reader)

You’ve known Daniel for years now, since you were both in the Indies. He’s the little brother you never had. When you both make your way to AEW, you climb your way up through Dark and Elevation matches while he finds himself adopted by two extremely loud men. While you don’t mind them, you start to get the feeling that one of them doesn’t like you much at all. He rarely makes eye contact, seems quieter when you’re around, and actively shoots down his tag partner’s suggestion that they “adopt” you, too. You’re not exactly sure what you did to make him hate you. And then one day you realize he doesn’t hate you at all.

Rated: M Warnings: non-graphic sexual content (like a paragraph), implied sexual content, jealousy, alcohol consumption, age difference, non-graphic canon-typical injury. honestly this is all just to be safe, a sprinkling of angst Word Count: 12,584 Read On: AO3

Jungle Boy Jack Perry:

One-shots:

Ask Me Tomorrow (Jungle Boy Jack Perry x fem!Reader)

You could’ve gone to work for any number of PR firms after graduating. But you’d loved wrestling ever since you were a kid and so working, even a desk job, for a company around some of your favorite talent was a dream come true. You were working hard to circumvent the “inexperienced new girl” expectations and you knew, in the process, you’d come off as uptight and unapproachable. Except to one person – who keeps asking you to hang out.

Rated: G Warnings: none Word Count: 1,538 Read On: AO3

Santana:

One-shots:

The Bronx Is Up, But I’m Fallin’ Down (Santana x fem!Reader)

When you started wrestling for AEW, Santana and Ortiz take note of you. Maybe because they spot a kindred spirit – rough upbringing, some bad choices, and then something new in the sanctuary of the squared circle. Ortiz functions a lot as your older brother and guardian but you and Santana feed off each other’s more chaotic moments. After your first big win, you were hyped on adrenalin and fell into bed with one of your best friends and it was probably just casual anyway. So why is he ignoring you now? And why does it bother you so much when usually you don’t let things bother you at all.

Rated: E Warnings: smut, explicit language, alcohol consumption Word Count: 3,160 Read On: AO3

It’s a Dynamite Miracle (Santana x fem!Reader)

You work for AEW, your job is to make sure that the venues are set up well before the talent arrives. When someone on your team makes a mistake and you’re having a very bad day, you’re hoping that the man you’ve been spending your nights with has your back. He doesn’t at first. But he figures it out.

Rated: G Warnings: none Word Count: 2,437 Read On: AO3

It’s Like I’m Powerful With A Little Bit of Tender. An Emotional, Sexual Bender. Mess Me Up, But No One Does It Better (That’s Just The Way You Make Me Feel) (Santana x Original Female Character)

Alexis is a make-up artist for All Elite Wrestling who loves her job. Members of the roster frequently ask her out, and she always laughs it off as a joke. But the truth is she hasn’t said yes because it’s never the one person that she wants to ask her out - assuming that he’s out of reach. When Santana overhears 2.0 trying to convince her to accept a date with Matt Lee, she realizes that what she wants is a lot closer than she thought.

Rated: E Warnings: explicit sexual content, dirty talk, daddy kink, thigh riding, oral sex, shower sex, light choking Word Count: 4,090 Read On: AO3

Hook/Tyler Senerchia:

One-shots:

Happy Birthday Kid. Tonight We’re Taking Off the Edge. Slow Down and Tell Me What You Did (So Tell Me Everything) (Hook x Original Female Character)

Only eight days separate his birthday from one of his closest friends backstage. Before they’d drifted apart, they’d made plans to celebrate for a whole week together. He’s been thinking that she doesn’t have time for him anymore, but what happens a week after his birthday when he realizes he got it all wrong and only has limited time to get it right and potentially get the girl?

Rated: G Warnings: none Word Count: 3,213 Read On: AO3

John Silver:

One-shots:

Just the Thought of You Makes Me Stop Before I Begin (‘Cause I’ve Got You Under My Skin) (John Silver x fem!Reader)

You’re fairly new to the AEW roster and you were warned from day one to expect the Dark Order to recruit you. You’re not as put off by the idea as some might expect, but your invitation never comes. When you start to realize John Silver is the reason why, you wonder exactly what you did to make him dislike you so much. Will some meddling from the rest of that lovable group help you find some answers?

Rated: G Warnings: none Word Count: 2,609 Read On: AO3

Shawn Spears:

One-Shots:

And All I Want Is A Chance To Prove – Show All I Can Do (I Believe In You) (Shawn Spears x fem!Reader)

When Tully Blanchard notices you during a few matches on AEW Dark, you don’t expect to become the latest addition to the Pinnacle just as they’re pulled into a new feud. You’re not sure how you feel about being a team player and the team, for the most part, isn’t sure how they feel about you right away. But there’s one member that’s all for giving you a chance and even though you’re usually the type to go it alone and are really just here to wake up and choose violence, the idea of someone having your back and giving you something different to choose is appealing. Of course, in this business – nothing is ever that easy.

Rated: E Warnings: explicit sexual content, angst, cursing, canon-typical violence, injuries as a result of that canon-typical violence, heels being heels Word Count: 10,409 Read On: AO3

Ricky Starks:

Series: All of Me:

(All Of Me) What Would I Do Without Your Smart Mouth? Drawing Me In And You Kicking Me Out (Ricky Starks x fem!Reader)

The first person you befriend backstage while working for AEW is Ricky Starks. In the midst of recovering from his neck injury, you two get close — you’re there for him while he copes with not doing the job that he loves and he’s there for you when something sets off your knee jerk reaction to cry when you’re upset. And suddenly, you’re wondering if your feelings for him are strictly friendly. But as the rivalry between he and Brian Cage mounts leading up to Fyter Fest, things change between the two of you and it may mean the end of your relationship.

Rated: T Warnings: language, men, light angst Word Count: 3,575 Read On: AO3

[REDUX] (All Of Me) You’re My Downfall, You’re My Muse. My Worst Distraction, My Rhythm and Blues (Ricky Starks x fem!Reader)

Rated: T Warnings: language, men, light angst Word Count: 3,764 Read On: AO3

(All Of Me) How Many Times Do I Have To Tell You? Even When You’re Crying, You’re Beautiful Too (Ricky Starks x fem!Reader)

You and the newly crowned FTW champion are still on the rocks, finding it difficult to communicate with one another. You’d like to think that you’re fine with that, moving forward. But everyone else knows better. Your mind on Ricky, an unfortunate run-in with someone else backstage, and a blurted-out confession. Are you two too far apart in what you want to get past this? Or are you more on the same page than either of you realize? Retold from Ricky’s perspective

Rated: T Warnings: language, men, light angst Word Count: 3,358 Read On: AO3

Multi-Chapter:

She Said “Tell Me How You Feel.” (Are You Even Real?) (Ricky Starks x Original Female Character)

When Ricky Starks is due to exchange vows with his girlfriend of six months in the ring, things go awry at the last minute, leaving him feeling heartbroken and embarrassed. Out in the crowd, he sees a sign in the front row that reads “Marry me, Ricky” and in his heartache, he takes a leap. Shelby Cosgrove isn’t even much of a wrestling fan, brought along by her best friend and in hopes of showing her niece who she has custody of a good time. While holding her eight year old niece’s sign, she’s plucked out of the crowd just as one of the wrestlers seems to be having a nervous breakdown. Assuming it’s all a gimmick gone wrong, she says yes. What could possibly go wrong?

Rated: E Warnings: explicit sexual content, daddy kink, oral sex, dirty talk, angst Chapters:5/5 Word Count: 44,679 Read On: AO3

One-Shots:

The Best Thing to Come Out of New Orleans (Ricky Starks x fem!Reader)

You’ve known Taz for most of your life and so when you’re between jobs and down on your luck and he offers to hire you as his assistant, you’re grateful for the chance. For the most part you get along with Team Taz pretty well with one very crucial exception – and he’s currently the guy holding the FTW Championship belt. A trip to film a show in his hometown surely will make him all the more insufferable to you. Right?

Rated: G Warnings: none Word Count: 3,968 Read On: AO3

Wardlow:

Series: Wardlow x Little Daredevil:

Maybe We Could Work Something Out (Wardlow x fem!Reader)

It’s your first week working for AEW and your new boss needs you to run around getting some answers from some of the talent. Some of them think it’s funny to harmlessly haze you a bit to try to see what you’re made of as the newest member of the team. They don’t expect that you don’t back down from dares and challenges. And they definitely don’t realize you’re not even going to bat an eye when they dare you to sneak into the Pinnacle’s dressing room and snag a picture with that diamond ring. There’s only one little problem in your way. Except, he’s not at all little. And, honestly, maybe he’s not even a problem.

Rated: G Warnings: none Word Count: 1,115 Read On: AO3

Feeling Daring (Wardlow x fem!Reader)

A dinner date with Wardlow, who you haven’t been able to stop thinking about since you met. When he suggests playing a game, the daredevil in you who can’t back down from a challenge rises to the occasion – and reaps the rewards. (Basically just filth).

Rated: E Warnings: Smut, dirty talk, masturbation, voyeurism, exhibitionism, semi-public sexual acts, bit of a size kink if you squint, Wardlow has a big dick and no one can convince me otherwise. Word Count: 3,329 Read On: AO3

Series: I Could See Clearly:

(And I Could See Clearly) An Indelible Line Was Drawn Between What Was Good, What Just Slipped Out, and What Went Wrong (Wardlow x fem!Reader)

When your old family friend brings you into All Elite Wrestling to help manage things for his newly formed faction, you don’t expect to be so drawn to one of the men now at his side. But the business leaves a lot of room for miscommunication, confused priorities, and mistakes. Especially with a man of so few words to begin with. But this was only supposed to be a temporary gig anyway, so it shouldn’t really matter. Right?

Rated: G Warnings: Language Word Count: 4,263 Read On: AO3

[REDUX] (I Could See Clearly) The Way She Feels About Me Has Changed. Thanks for Playing, Try Again (Wardlow x fem!Reader)

Retold from Wardlow’s perspective.

Rated: G Warnings: Language Word Count: 3,773 Read On: AO3

(Suddenly I See) Why The Hell It Means So Much To Me (Wardlow x fem!Reader)

Leaving behind your work with the Pinnacle and your time at AEW should be easy. Especially after your fall out with Wardlow. After all, the job was only supposed to be temporary. And it’s not like you’re attached to them. You can wash your hands of the whole thing, settle into your 9 to 5, and leave Wardlow and the Pinnacle behind. Right?

Rated: G Warnings: Language Word Count: 5,627 Read On: AO3

Cash Wheeler:

One-Shots:

I Want Something Easy. Why Don’t You Just Lay Your Hands on Me? (Give Me What I Need) (Cash Wheeler x Original Female Character)

She’s getting past a bad break-up with a guy she never should have been with from the start. When she stops at a bar to put her thoughts together, she’s automatically the recipient of some unwanted attention. Luckily, someone is there to step in and save the day — someone who just won the ROH Tag Team titles earlier that night and is celebrating with his partner and some of their colleagues. What happens next is supposed to just be a one night stand — a way for her to get past her break-up and walk away. But things don’t always go the way people plan them.

Rated: E Warnings: smut, sexual content, oral sex, mentions of alcohol consumption, one night stands (sorta not really lmao) Word Count: 9,068 Read On: AO3

Jay White:

One-Shots:

Jetlagged and Lovesick for Days on End (Jay White x Original Female Character)

Presley is a paralegal preparing to take the LSAT and chase her dreams of becoming a lawyer. For the first time in her life, she’s close to her dreams and has moved into the perfect apartment without needing a roommate. It’s spacious, has hardwood floors, a pool on the roof, a gym in the building. The only problem is her very loud upstairs neighbor who seems like a pretty big asshole. Advised to kill them with kindness and try positive reinforcement when they do keep it down, she finally meets her mystery neighbor - the one and only Jay White.

Rated: E Warnings: explicit sexual content, dirty talk, oral sex, angst Word Count: 17,951 Read On: AO3

#elitehunter fanfic #elitehunter fic #pinned post

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inky-snowdrop · 1 year

Text

Mortal Kombat 11: Civil War

A Mortal Kombat Multi-Chapter Fanfiction

Pairings: Mileena/Scorpion || Hanzo Hasashi, Kitana/SubZero || Kuai Liang (implied), Sonya Blade/Erron Black

Rating: M (18+)

(canon-typical violence, implied sexual content, strong language, cannibalism, graphic depictions of blood, gore and death)

Originally Written In: 2015

<- Chapter 1 || Chapter 2 || Chapter 3 ->

Chapter 2 ~ Cassie Cage

🥀🪦🥀🪦🥀🪦🥀🪦🥀🪦🥀🪦🥀🪦🥀🪦🪦🥀🪦🥀🪦🥀🪦🥀🪦🥀🪦🥀🪦🥀🪦🥀

"I'll get it!" Johnny yelled as he jumped from the top of the landing to the front door. He wore a blue t-shirt with a black vest and hoodie. He had his tan pants on with his black belt and silver buckle. He also had biker gloves on, but his were black. He opened the door and there stood Sonya Blade. She was wearing her general's uniform and was wearing a squat hat. She looked very imposing, even though she was smaller then Cassie. Sonya crossed her arms and looked inside the door. "Hello? Earth to Sonya!" Johnny said as he waved a hand in front of Sonya's face.

Sonya looked at Johnny and asked, "Alright. Where's the food?"

Cassie could only hear snippets of her parent's conversation and it didn't sound good so before things got ugly, Cassie walked up behind Johnny and said, "Hey mom." Cassie peered around her father and saw Sonya staring at her. It made her feel like she did something wrong.

"Sergeant Cage," Sonya said as she stepped inside the mansion and towards Cassie. Cassie reached out to give her a hug, but Sonya held back. "Are you prepared to leave now?" Sonya asked with hands on her hips. Cassie stared at the ground and nodded yes. She HATED the feeling that her mother gave her. Like your not good enough to be here. Sonya nodded and turned on her heel back to the car that awaited them. Cassie sucked in a bunch of air to try and slow her heart rate.

Johnny must have noticed because he said, "Hey. Don't let your mother get you down. You'll always be one of the greats." Cassie looked at her father and smiled, the sinking feeling gone from her stomach. Cassie then marched out the front door, more confidence in her then any other time.

She choose to sit next to her mother in the front. Johnny sat in the back. "How are you doing in school?" Sonya asked as she started the car.

"I'm doing fine. I got A's in math and social studies and B's in science and E.L.A," Cassie replied cheerfully as she buckled her seat belt.

Sonya looked over at her daughter and asked with a smirk, "How was game day?"

"Well, other then the fact that the house smells like piss and was covered in a bunch of crappy food, it was all good," Cassie said sarcastically. Sonya chuckled.

"Hey! Way to throw me under the bus!" Johnny yelled from the backseat. He kicked Cassie's seat pretty hard.

"Hey! No roughhousing back there!" Sonya barked as they pulled out of the driveway onto the main road. Cassie laughed. 'Mom's back,' She thought with a smile.

+++

The car stopped right in front of a warehouse. Cassie stared at it and got goosebumps on her arms.

"Are you sure this is the right place?" Cassie asked as she popped her gum Johnny gave her. Sonya give her an are-you-serious look.

"I wasn't made a general for no reason," she grumbled as she stepped out of the car. The warehouse stung Cassie's nose with the bitter smell of oil and she nearly gagged. Sonya give her a look and walked over to the double wood doors and took out a key. The door opened with a lurge. Cassie cautious walked over to the door and peered inside.

"Okay mom. I've seen some pretty scary things in my 17 years of life, but this has got to be one of the worst," Cassie said as she took out one of her hand guns.

"Yeah Sonya. If you were going to kill me, why didn't you do it at the house?" Johnny said as he walked up behind Cassie, scaring the shit out of her.

"Raiden told me to meet him inside here for some sort of meeting. And believe me if I was going to kill you, you would already be dead," Sonya snapped as she stepped over the threshold. It took a couple of seconds for Cassie to fully understand what her mother just said.

"Raiden contacted you and you didn't tell us!" Johnny called as he followed Sonya into the gaping jaws of the old warehouse.

"Cassie, if you can't come into a old warehouse then you have no business being a sergeant," Sonya snarled when she saw Cassie was still outside. Anger inside Cassie boiled to the surface as she marched inside, with a haughty spring in her step. As soon as Cassie was next to her mother, a freak wind blew the giant doors shut. Cassie turned around quickly, clinking her guns into position. Sonya grabbed her arm and yanked her around.

"What the hell, mom!" Cassie shouted as she wrenched her arm away.

"It was only the wind," Sonya said coolly as she adjusted her arm bands.

Cassie nodded her head and shouted, "No. Why didn't you tell us that we were coming to see Raiden!?" Sonya breathed in deeply, rubbing her temples.

"Because, Raiden didn't want me to tell you. To make sure only the people who were supposed to come came."

Cassie rolled her eyes and snarled, "Wow. That excuse is a bunch of bullshit." Before Sonya could say anymore, the lightning struck. Cassie had to close her eyes to make sure she wasn't blinded. Then there was a feeling like she was falling. Out of pure confusion, she screamed. Then it stopped. She hit the ground with enough force to knock the wind out of her. Something cold and wet was running down her back and gave her goosebumps.

"Need a hand?" a voice asked right in front of Cassie. Cassie looked up and gasped when she saw Jacquinn standing in front of her. She reached her hand out and Jacquinn yanked her to her feet with a good amount of force.

"Hey, Jacquinn," Cassie said slowly as she clutched her side in pain.

"So, how was the trip?" Jacquinn asked with a tease in her voice.

Cassie didn't hear her though. "We're back at the Sky Temple," Cassie whispered as she looked at the Jinsi Chamber's entrance. And at the Earthrealm greats entering it.

"Yeah. My dad told me that there's some sort of meeting," Jacquinn said as she steadied Cassie from stumbling.

"I've gotta find mom," Cassie mumbled as she pushed Jacquinn out of the way.

"Okay. Good catch up," Jacquinn called as Cassie descended into the heart of the Sky Temple, gripping her gun all the way down.

+++

The Jinsi Chamber was alive with blue energy as Cassie stepped into the chamber. It smelled of fresh dirt and metal, like magik. The room was filled to the brim with heros, some so famous you'd have to be stupid not to know them. Cassie cautious made her way through the crowd, her fingers never leaving her gun. 'Some of these guys have a rep,' Cassie thought as she came to a halt next to the Jinsi Chamber's life force. 'Better safe then sorry.'

"Cassandra Cage," a voice said behind her. Quickly, Cassie clinked her gun into place and turned around to meet her attacker head on, but instead she found herself pointing a gun in Sub-Zero's face. He wore a blue vest with chinese symbols running down both sides. He wore no mask and Cassie could see a scar that ran down one eye to the other. Cassie froze as Sub-Zero placed a hand on the gun, freezing it solid. She dropped it from shock, smashing it into a million pieces as Sub-Zero said smoothly, "I do not wish to fight you, Cassandra. I wish only to tell you that you and selected others are to join Raiden outside for a conference. Make haste, for we will be starting soon, with or without you." With that said, Sub-Zero turned on his heel and walked away, leaving only a very confused Cassie. 'Okay then,' Cassie thought as she made her way back to the world outside. 'What could be a more ridiculous way for mom to yell 'Cassandra Cage! Get your ass up here now!''

The first thing that greeted Cassie as she emerged from the belly of the Sky Temple was a burning smell. "Somethings on fire," Cassie mumbled to herself as she stood next to the entrance of the Jinsi Chamber. Then she saw what it was. Far off, she could see that something or someone was on fire. Then it just disappeared. Cassie frowned and examined her buffed nails as she waited for her mother, hoping that she wouldn't be mad that she went off by herself. 'I'm a grown woman now,' Cassie yelled silently. 'I can do whatever I want!'

The burning smell was back and it was stronger then ever, roasting the inside of Cassie's nose. She hacked a little and was going to find a new spot if it hadn't been for the flames that engulfed her. The pain she felt now was nothing compared to anything she had ever felt before. She let a small cry and felt the feeling of falling again. Everywhere she looked there was fire. She tried to reach her metal rod on her back, but she burnt her fingers trying to grab it. Just as quickly as it came, the fire subsided and left a coughing, burnt Cassie in it's wake. Cassie could hear talking but couldn't make out the words. Her vision blurred and Cassie almost passed out, but she then felt something freezing cold on her neck. She jumped up and almost gave herself whiplash. Behind stood Sub-Zero, applying frost to one of her burns. She hissed in pain as the frost found a tender spot. She turned around quickly and slapped Sub-Zero's hand away.

"I'm fine," Cassie snapped as she patted out a bit of fire still on her arm.

"Cassandra Cage!" a voice called from behind her. Cassie made a face and turned around to see her mother barreling towards her. "Where the hell were you!" Sonya barked as she threw her arms around Cassie, pulling her in for a hug.

Cassie wrenched her way out Sonya's grasp and said, "I was still at the flipping Sky Temple! Why didn't you tell me you were leaving?"

Sonya gave her a puzzled look and said slowly, "I texted you that I was going to the forest. Why didn't you respond?"

Cassie smiled slyly. "You should ask dad that question." Sonya sighed loudly and rubbed her temples.

"Well. We shouldn't be anymore late then you already are. Let's go. MOVE IT!" Sonya started walking back towards the trees she came from when Cassie shouted, "I'll be right there, mom!" Sonya turned around and said as she walked backwards, "Follow the line of trees to a rock. Press the keyhole!" Sonya turned back around and ran into the trees.

As Cassie watched her go, she asked Sub-Zero, "How'd you know I'd be here?" Sub-Zero looked at her with his crystal like eyes.

"I knew Scorpion would teleport you to this place. So I came to make sure the wounds did not harm you too much. I wished that savior of Earthrealm would not succumb to the flames of hell fire," Sub-Zero said slowly as he walked over to her.

Cassie thought for a moment and then said with a thumbs up, "Good answer."

🪦🥀🪦🥀🪦🥀🪦🥀🪦🥀🪦🥀🪦🥀🪦🥀🥀🪦🥀🪦🥀🪦🥀🪦🥀🪦🥀🪦🥀🪦🥀🪦

🥀🪦🥀🪦🥀🪦🥀🪦🥀🪦🥀🪦🥀🪦🥀🪦🪦🥀🪦🥀🪦🥀🪦🥀🪦🥀🪦🥀🪦🥀🪦🥀

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echoes-lighthouse · 2 years

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Content and Tags

Hello! Welcome to a run-down of the content on my blog and how to block anything that you don’t want to see. I do my best to tag triggering material but please let me know if you would like anything additional tagged: I won’t ask you for any explanation or justification, although I may create my own tags for you to block.

Generally, I suggest that minors block #nsft and #minors dni: I will block minors who interact with nsfw content on my blog, but it’s not the focus of my selfships, so I just tag it if it comes up.

You may also want to block #nsft mention, #kink mention, and #suggestive: those are the kind of T/M rated content things that aren’t fully explicit.

I do post age regression content on this blog, related to several of my f/os, so you can block the #agere tag if you want that off your dash! You might also want to block #my ghost boy and #my gamer boy, where those themes are heaviest.

Selfship-Specific:

Because some of my selfships have dark themes, here is a list of the ones that you may want to block if you have any triggers around their main themes, as I won’t always tag them with content warnings if it’s a main part of that selfship.

Tate Langdon (#my ghost boy): unhealthy power dynamics, age gap (he died at 17 and has been a ghost for ~10 years), family death, Tate’s history of abuse from his mother

Himiko Toga (#bestie hours): blood drinking, knives and teeth to draw blood in a vampire-esque way, yandere tropes appropriate to the canon character, a League of Villains polycule that includes characters from 17-32

Alex Delarge (#clockwork siblings): canon-typical sexual assault, violence, and drug use, ambiguously toxic/codependent sibling relationship, coerced sexual favours (for Alex’s droogs)

The Joker (#the lover who laughs): age gap with my s/i being underage, violence, stockholm syndrome

Dirk Strider (#heart of hearts): manipulation, blackrom-typical violence

Jonah Magnus (#eyes on you): manipulation, toxic relationship, power dynamics, body horror and general horror themes

Valentino and Vox (#digital poison): canon-typical voyeurism, stalking, sexual coercion, mentions/threats of sexual assault, manipulation, power games, a veritable host of kinks including bloodplay, painplay, bondage, etc.

I have one F/O (Toshinori) who is police-adjacent and one F/O who is a problematic school shooter stereotype (Tate). Vox and Valentino literally have an empire based on coercion and violence. I am aware of their place in their original media as problematic, but don’t acknowledge it in every single post about them. I am also aware of Alex, Brahms, The Joker, and Michael as being symbols of rape/assault to different degrees and I have complicated feelings about their symbolism in that space that I’m probably not going to deal with on this blog.

Tagging Systems For Reblogs:

I do my best to tag fandoms as #source: [fandom] but occasionally will tag with #source: unfamiliar if I don’t recognize the source, so if there’s a lot of sources you want to avoid, you can block to be safe!

I tag all my selfship reblogs with #others f/os: [name], so if you have an f/o you don’t like seeing others selfship with, block that tag with the relevant names inserted!

I currently tag for #bugs, #clowns, #blades, #religion/#religious imagery, and #blood, and do my best to remember to tag #food.

Lastly, I do occasionally participate in shipping discourse, so all of that content is under #discourse or #shipping discourse, so feel free to block both!

#making some mobile friendly links!#don't reblog please ^-^

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fandomwriterstuff · 2 years

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Achy Heart (Chapter 1)

Steve Harrington x Reader

Rated T

7.3k words

Warnings: mentions of eating disordered reader, fem reader, canon-typical violence, bullying, angst, also fluff though, Carol Perkins, possible bisexual reader

Your mom was a popular cheerleader at Hawkins High back in the day, she’s the reason you got into it. Not because you liked it, or because you liked the girls who were in it. You were good at it, it had been pounded into your brain since you could walk that it was in your blood.

You often found yourself thinking about how your life might have changed, what trajectory you might be, who your friends might be if you hadn’t taken up the torch and joined the squad as soon as you were able. Because this surely wasn’t all life was meant to me.

You were at another party after a basketball game, another win for Hawkins, and you were in the kitchen with a group of your peers. The too loud music was overwhelming you, and you were nursing your first beer, warm by now after hours of being in your hand. You weren’t much of a drinker, your mom always warned you about empty calories. But you didn’t want to feel left out or look rude by not accepting a beverage.

Sixteen, going on seventeen, was a hard year for you. Your body was changing, and according to your mother, not for the better. No matter how much you cheered, exercised, and counted calories, you couldn’t help but notice your clothes tightening around the hips and chest. You also couldn’t help but feel a fluttering in your chest and a warmth in your belly at the sight of any attractive teen at Hawkins High.

You felt like a total freak, sure everyone had a crush on Steve Harrington at some point, but that was normal. What was disturbing you was the dryness in your mouth and anxious energy when you had to sit next to Eddie Munson in your study hall. You sometimes wondered how his ringed fingers would feel on your skin. But no, it got way worse than that. Eddie was an attractive guy and you couldn’t deny that. What was making you feel the most like an out of place weirdo at this stupid party was the way you felt yourself gulp and stare at Nancy Wheeler.

She and Steve were the school’s perfect couple and you weren’t sure if you were more jealous of Nancy or Steve. The realization shocked you as you gazed unabashedly at the couple, whispering to each other in a dark corner.

“Earth to Y/N!” Carol giggled and snapped her fingers in front of your face, breaking you out of your reverie. “Where did you go, girl? Staring off into space again?” You fought an embarrassed blush at her words. You never knew if she was teasing you in a friendly way or making fun of you. You had a feeling it was the latter.

“Just thinking,” you offered her a smile and she raised an eyebrow at you.

“You can’t just openly stare at Steve while his girlfriend is right there. If you want him, you’ll have to wait until she inevitably leaves early,” Carol faux-whispered to you like she was sharing a good secret but you sputtered.

“No, I wasn’t- I would never-” you would never ask Steve to cheat on Nancy with you. It was wrong and he would never go for you. The group around you, basketball players and cheerleaders, broke out in laughter. This time, you were sure it was directed at you.

“Excuse me,” you set your cup down on the counter and hurried towards the front door, passing the intoxicated king and queen of Hawkins High on your way and averting your eyes. The laughter followed you but faded as you closed the door behind you and took a deep breath of clean, fresh night air.

“What’s got you twisted up?” came a voice from beside you and you flinched, thankful you didn’t have a drink in your hand to spill.

“Holy fuck!” You exclaimed, eyes finally finding Eddie Munson sitting outside the house with his little black lunch box beside him. He gave you a wide grin.

“Didn’t expect you to have such a mouth on you, prom queen,” your heart finally calmed from the scare, but started up again at the nickname. He was always pressing your buttons, not in a bad way, but making you nervous nonetheless.

“Sorry,” you whispered, fingers knotting together, something Eddie appeared to notice. He nodded at your hands.

“You doing alright?” You gulped, mouth dry again as you nodded.

“Parties aren’t really my thing,” you brushed him off but he must have seen something on your face.

“You sure?” he raised an eyebrow and you bit your lip, still standing in front of him with your white-knuckled fingers knotted together.

“I’m not a super big fan of always being the butt of my friends’ jokes,” you sighed, trying to make light of the dark feeling in your heart, “But hey, could be worse,” you shrugged.

“They don’t seem like very good friends,” he replied and you bristled.

“They’re the only ones I have,” you wrinkled your nose. “Anyway, I should be going. My mom will kill me if she thinks I’m drinking beer,” you rolled your eyes, the next words rolling off your tongue without a second thought as you mimicked your mother’s stern voice. “‘Alcohol is just empty calories, dumpling.’ And then she’ll go into how nobody will like me if I have a beer gut. Really, it’s better this way,” you were rambling, but you couldn’t stop. You were the worst with word vomit. “So really, I should be thankful Carol decided to be a snotty bitch today because I can’t afford the carbs,” you finally breathed and rolled your eyes, totally missing the bewildered look the school freak was giving you. “Yeah, I’m gonna leave. Walk home since I caught a ride with Carol and Tommy. I could use the exercise. Seeya, Eddie!” You waved, smile perky as ever as you headed out to the sidewalk. It wouldn’t take too long to get home. But you had to get out of there.

You thought things would be fine at school in the coming weeks, but things got worse. Steve and Nancy broke up. You thought to yourself: oh, that’s so sad. And then: i wonder what happened? And finally your fragile heart started beating like there was a swarm of butterflies inside it trying to escape. But you pressed those feelings down. Steve would never give you a chance. Nancy would definitely never give you a chance.

“You can totally go after him now, I bet he’s looking for a rebound,” Carol snarked at your table. You hoped your makeup hid the nervous flush on your face, though you weren’t convinced.

“Carol just drop it,” you spoke, and she let out a cackle.

“Space Girl can finally speak up, huh? Head’s not in the clouds on this fine afternoon?” Space Girl? That was new. So as soon as you spoke up for yourself you were getting mocking nicknames. Great.

“I’ll see you at practice,” you muttered, leaving the table and dumping your full tray in the trash. You were lost in thoughts, as you often were, when you practically ran out of the cafeteria. The more you thought about it, the more frustrated you got. Surely cheerleading and shitty friends wasn’t all there was for you? Eventually you could maybe date a popular boy and be treated just as shitty as your friends, becoming nothing more than a trophy wife. Teary eyed, you walked the halls without a hall pass. Until you bumped into another lost soul.

“Um, I’m sorry,” you didn’t even bother to look up, just moving to the side and continuing on your way.

“Hey, wait. You okay?” It was Steve Fucking Harrington.

“Yup!” You kept walking, but you felt soft fingers on your wrist as you tried to escape yet another social interaction. You paused, and turned, pulling your hand slowly back towards you. When he let go you looked up at him.

He looked about how you felt. Downtrodden, red eyes, shirt a little too wrinkled to be normal.

“Are you okay?” You sent the question back at him and he looked startled, like maybe he wasn’t used to people asking how he felt. You felt sad at the thought, gulping past the lump in your throat.

“Not really,” he admitted with a shrug. “Nancy broke up with me,” he muttered, and you frowned sincerely. He looked very torn up. You’d thought they were perfect together. “And you?”

You felt a bit of sweat drip down the back of your neck, the anxiety from before and this new interaction making you feel out of sorts.

“Not really,” you paused, wondering if you should say more. On the one hand, Carol and Tommy and the others were his friends. On the other hand, he had opened up a little bit to you. “My friends make fun of me too much,” you whispered with a sad smile and a shrug.

He nodded, he’d seen how nasty his friends could be in action. He didn’t usually make any effort to stop them though and it seemed to you like he might not realize the consequences of their harsh words.

“I hope something works out for you, Steve. You deserve to be happy,” you offered him a soft smile before finally walking away, not looking back. You’d known Steve and been in many classes with him since elementary school, though you were a little closer as kids than you were in high school. You lived next door to him though and you saw him rather frequently.

Like a few nights later, you were avoiding your parents by sitting in the backyard that faced the dense forest. You used to play in the woods with Steve when you were little, and you smiled bitterly as he still consumed your thoughts.

“I’m going for a walk,” you called, running inside to change into a pair of blue jeans, sneakers, and a pink sweater before making your way back downstairs.

“Be careful honey, don’t want to end up like the Byers kid or that Holland girl,” your dad said absentmindedly and you couldn’t help but think that was an oddly dismissive thought to have about two kids who were still missing.

You found yourself winding through the thicket behind your house, a trail you and Steve had been on in the past many times. As you breathed in the cool night air you finally felt like you could relax. You were alone, no mean girls were making fun of you, your mother wasn’t there to tell you to go for a jog, and nobody could bother you.

Your ears caught a sound not too far away though and suddenly being alone, unarmed, and in the forest at night felt like a bad idea.

“Fuck,” you whispered, turning and trying to find your way back to the trail. “Head in the clouds and you lost the trail, dipshit,” you cursed yourself when you heard his voice.

“Hello?” He sounded stuffy, like maybe the pollen was getting to him.

“Steve?” You squeaked, still afraid you were about to be kidnapped.

“Yeah,” he muttered, coming into view. Thankfully your eyes were mostly adjusted to the dim moonlight, and you could confirm: it was in fact Steve.

“What are you doing out here?” You asked, looking him up and down. He looked a little worse for wear, his shoulders droopy and eyes shining in the dark.

“I could ask you the same thing,” his voice was soft but dull. “It’s not safe you know,” he added, and you scoffed.

“Then what are you doing?”

“I was going to talk to Nancy,” he sniffled and you got the feeling it didn’t go well. “I saw her in her bedroom with Jonathan Byers.”

You inhaled sharply. Oh.

“I’m sorry, Steve,” you whispered, unsure if you should offer him a hug or stay at a distance. You settled for placing your hand on his arm. You tried not to notice how toned it was, and quickly pulled your hand back as your rabbit heart started up again.

“Why are you wandering around at night?” He asked, quickly finding the trail and leading the way back to your houses.

“Just thinking,” you mumbled and he looked back at you as the lights from your neighborhood showed up in the distance. You could tell he was still wondering and you sighed, you may as well throw him a bone. He must be heartbroken. “It’s just my friends, you know. They sort of suck at being friends. And all my mom wants is for me to be the thinnest most popular cheerleader so I had to get out of the house. I can’t help but think there’s more that life can offer me than just shitty friends and a cheerleading uniform.” You were rambling, but luckily Steve stopped walking, shutting you up because you bumped right into his back.

“I didn’t know your mom was putting so much pressure on you,” he said, turning around to face you. You were just inside the woods now, both of your houses only a few hundred feet away. Maybe he liked being away from home, too. Maybe the woods were a little respite from his neglectful parents.

“It’s okay,” you mumbled, blood rushing in your ears and heart pounding against your ribcage at the attention he was giving you. Thankfully he was too in his own thoughts because he took you at your word and continued back towards the houses.

“I’ll see you later,” he called and you waved at him, unsure whether he was being nice for a reason or just because he needed someone to talk to. You didn’t think it was about you.

The next day or so are uneventful for you, that is until you finally made it home from cheer practice. It was unbearable, and it was getting worse the more you pulled away from your so-called friends. It had rained and while you usually drove with the other girls, you’d opted to walk instead of endure more teasing. You were just turning onto your street, cheer uniform soaked and sneakers squelching each time you stepped when you saw Steve leave his house.

“Hey,” you called with a little wave as you approached your house. It was getting darker, but you could see his smile and how he beckoned you over.

“Hey, princess,” he seemed in better spirits, especially since he was using your childhood nickname. He was always your knight in shining armor, whether or not the others knew him as King Steve. Though when you approached, soaked to the bone and shivering, mascara smudging around your eyes, he frowned.

“Why are you walking out in this, come here. The heater’s already on,” he opened the passenger door to his car, and when you protested, not wanting to get his seats wet, he insisted. You threw your backpack in the back seat.

“I live right there you know,” you added instead of answering his question, and he raised an eyebrow at you as he cranked the heat higher. You sighed and shrugged. “I don’t have a license yet because I always drive with the other girls but now when we’re together they’re just mean to me. So I walked,” you responded, looking down at your pink fingernails and picking at the skin around them. You were lost in your head when Steve reached out and gently pulled your picking fingers away from each other. You couldn’t complain though, his hands were dry and warm.

“I’m sorry things have been worse for you recently. I can sort of understand, though it’s a little different,” he let out a little chuckle, though it didn’t seem sincere. “I got into a fight with Jonathan Byers and I’m actually driving there now to apologize,” he looked up at you through long lashes. “I could use a little moral support if you wanted to come with me?” You knew what he was really offering: an excuse to avoid your prying mother and ignorant father for a little longer. You nodded and he smiled, letting go of your hands to reach over and buckle you in.

“Safety first!” He exclaimed as he peeled out of the driveway.

On the way there you talked about everything and nothing. Your new nickname at school (though Steve thought Space Girl was a cool name and not a bad one), Nancy pulling away from Steve, and how he felt bad about Barbara.

When you pulled up, it was dark.

“Will you come with?” Steve suddenly asks and you look up and realize why. There are two silhouettes in the house that you can see through the window. One is clearly the elder Byers and one looks female. Nancy.

“Of course,” you offer him a little smile and hop out of the car, wringing your skirt in your hands and trying to make yourself presentable.

“You look great, don’t worry,” Steve said absentmindedly as he made his way up to the door. When he knocked, you fidgeted with your wet wrinkly fingers, wondering where this would go.

He knocked again, and the door pushed open. You thought this was odd, since you’d just seen the two silhouettes in the house. Surely they heard you?

“What are you doing here?” Nancy’s voice was the first one and she seemed very defensive. She also was bleeding? What were they doing> Completing a blood pact?

Steve hadn’t noticed the weirdness yet and scratched his head.

“I came to apologize to Jonathan actually-” and when he looked up at his two peers he stopped. “What’s going on?”

Steve pushed you behind his back and you clutched at his shirt when Nancy pointed a gun at him, the lights flickering.

“You need to leave,” she was deadly serious and you and Steve backed up through the open door again just as a fucking monster straight out of your wildest nightmares broke into the house. You shrieked as Steve stumbled and you both hurried towards the car as gunshots could be heard. You gulped and looked wide-eyed at Steve.

“I can’t leave them,” Steve was urgent as he looked back at the house’s flickering lights. Then he looked back at you. “Take the car and go home.”

“No!” You shouted, palms slamming down on the hood of the car. “Not without you!” Something flashed in his eyes for a moment before he nodded.

“Find a weapon.”

The two of you hurried back into the house, Steve picking up a baseball bat with nails in it and you grabbing a crowbar from his trunk. When you entered the house again the monster was on Jonathan and you watched in horror as Steve brutally attacked it with the bat.

You had a brief moment where you had to think to yourself: This is the absolute worst time to get turned on. You’re soaked, and freezing, and Steve is beating a crazy fucking monster with a bat. And then your poor heart picked up and you felt that telltale warmth in your cheeks when you watched Steve’s display of strength as if in slow motion.

Though a moment later, with your crowbar clutched tightly in your hands, Jonathan set the trapped monster on fire and it retreated back to wherever the fuck it came from.

Steve was checking on Jonathan and Nancy, though you weren’t sure what you just witnessed. You were so cold, too. You bit your lip and turned around, walking slowly out of the house while Steve was distracted and placing the crowbar back in his trunk. Sure, you were willing to go to bat for Steve, Nancy, and even Jonathan, but you had to face the truth: you were useless in there. You’d started walking down the street, trying to fight the ache behind your eyes when you heard your name being called.

Steve.

You turned, seeing the boy who had always been your knight in shining armor (both figuratively and now… sort of literally) running towards you.

“Where are you wandering off to?” You were too caught up to see his worried look.

“I just,” you trailed off and looked into the forest where the burning monster had retreated, shivering uncontrollably. “I want to go home,” you whispered, eyes glassy but not letting the tears fall as Steve hurried around his car.

“Hey,” he whispered, rubbing his warm hands up and down your arms, erasing some of the goosebumps momentarily only for them to show back up when his hand passed over. “It’s okay. That thing is gone,” he seemed so sure, but as you looked up at him, and the tears started falling you burst out in a ramble of questions.

“But what if it comes back? What if we just made it angry? What if there are more? Where did it come from? Did it go back there? Why do Nancy and Jonathan seem so cool about this? Does this have to do with Will and Barbara?” You finally stopped when Steve wrapped his big warm arms around you in a hug. You hadn’t hugged Steve in a long time, and he was always so good at it. He was so warm and comforting and he held you tightly as you cried.

“Let’s get you home, okay Princess?” He murmured into your damp hair and you nodded into his chest. The whole drive home he held your hand and you were grateful for it, the shaking in your fingers finally relenting as you pulled up to your house.

“What am I supposed to say to my mom?” You whispered. Hopefully she wouldn’t see the couple drops of monster blood on your skirt.

“Tell her practice ran late. You’re wet from walking to the car. I drove you home,” he sounded so sure, so confident. You looked over at him and nodded. When you made your way into your house you couldn’t help but feel the shift in your mind. Steve was… Untouchable before. You knew him from your childhood but you didn’t really talk in school. He was always so popular, even more than you, and always with perfect Nancy. And now he was… What? A total badass? A strong and capable monster-slayer?

You were pulled out of your thoughts by your mother’s voice.

“Dumpling? Is that you?”

“It’s me,” you called, heading towards the stairs to avoid her. “Sorry, practice ran late. Steve drove me home,” you added.

“That’s so nice of him, such a sweet boy,” she called. “Honey I found you a dress for the dance, though we might have to take out the sides a little. You’ve been looking a little pudgy-” you shut her voice out as you hurried to your bathroom to remove your soiled uniform and take a long, hot shower.

You decided that night you would stick around Steve- if he would have you. He was a good person, and you felt safe around him.

With winter break right around the corner, you hoped you would see him a little more and get a respite from the girls on the cheer squad.

You didn’t see him for a while though, and you were too unsure of yourself to seek him out. You had a sick feeling in the pit of your stomach that things would go back to normal: you two running in the same circles but not talking.

The night before the spring part of the school year started you heard a little sound from your window. You looked over, nervous at first. But then another little pebble plinked against the glass.

A warm feeling came over you and a smile grew on your face as you opened your window into the night air and saw Steve sitting on your roof, cheeks pink and hair windblown.

“How did you get up here?” You asked, pulling him into your room and shutting the window to keep the cold out.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” he countered with a smile, and you felt the blood rush to your cheeks. Damn, you thought to yourself. A simple conversation and you’re already blushing.

“You can sit wherever,” you added as you hopped back on your bed and leaned against the many pillows adorning it. Steve took a ginger seat on the edge of your bed, suddenly looking a little more nervous.

“I came here to apologize actually,” he scratched his head, further ruining his hair. For a moment you caught yourself wishing you could feel how soft it was.

“What for?” You were genuinely confused.

“I should have come to see you sooner. Checked to see if you were okay after… You know,” he shrugged, not looking at you. You were very aware that your pajamas consisted of a pair of tiny pink shorts and a vintage Hawkins Cheer shirt, no bra underneath. But despite this, you knelt forward and laid your hand on his shoulder.

“Hey, it’s okay,” you smiled, a small thing, but genuine. “I was constantly telling myself to come see you- see how you were doing,” you corrected yourself, and you continued despite the blush on your cheeks. “You have a lot going on too.”

When he looked over at you, finally looked at you and really looked at you, you could tell he was affected by your appearance. You watched for a moment as his eyes roamed over you, lingering on your hips and your peaked nipples (fuck the cold breeze he’d come in with). And then you realized you were probably making him incredibly uncomfortable, and you leaned back onto your pillows, muttering a quick apology.

“How… how are you doing, Steve?” You wondered, unable to make eye contact after that experience.

“I’ve been better,” he mumbled, shrugging in your peripheral vision. “Nancy and Jonathan are a thing now I think. They told me a little bit more about what went down and all of the crazy stuff they’d gone through together,” his face was pinched, and you thought it must hurt him to hear how his beloved ex girlfriend and his direct competition (well not competition anymore if they were together…) bonded.

“What was that thing?” You asked, hushed. You pulled your knees up to your chest to comfort yourself, though it didn’t help when Steve broke the news to you about Eleven, the telekinetic girl, the Upside Down, Barbara’s death, and the demogorgon. You wanted to cry, to scream, to run away. You couldn’t do any, eyes dry as you soaked up the information.

You hadn’t cried since that day, actually. Your mom, the cheer squad, your stupid unrequited crush on Steve feeling so unimportant and stupid in comparison to interdimensional monsters.

“You okay, sweetheart?” The nickname was new to you, you thought it would warm your cold, fragile heart, but you only felt numb. You shrugged.

“I hope nothing like that ever happens to me again,” you whispered, swallowing thickly.

“It won’t,” Steve sounded so sure, yet… If it happened once, it could happen again. But you nodded to appease him. You were lost in thought for a little while, thinking about the consequences of opening a portal in Hawkins, and Steve finally left with a parting hug.

As you entered the second half of the school year, you thought maybe you would be able to handle the teasing better. You would be able to handle your parents better. Especially after the incident with the demogorgon. You had seen some shit, and you were stronger because of it.

Well, you thought you were.

As soon as Carol saw you, the snickering started.

“Here comes Space Girl, always has her head in the clouds,” she called over as you walked in. You hoped nobody would listen or look over. You hoped you could fly under the radar just this once.

“Thinking about Steeeeeve?” She asked once you’d gotten closer and you were thrilled her volume had decreased.

“Why do you ask?” You replied as you sat with your spaghetti and water that you didn’t plan on eating and she laughed that nasty laugh that was starting to sound more like a witch cackling.

“Chrissy saw him at your house last night,” Carol popped her bubblegum and you gulped. Chrissy was younger than you, probably trying to fit in. She seemed really sweet, and you thought you could have connected with her, but this didn’t look good.

“We were just-”

The bitch cut you off.

“‘We were just-’ just what?” She cocked her head to the side and you sighed. It looked like you wouldn’t be able to handle this. “Just fucking?” You wrinkled your nose and frowned. “You must have no standards,” she continued as you reddened in the face, feeling your rabbit heart pounding in indignation. “Fucking a guy who you know is just rebounding on you.” You stood as the group of girls cackled like a bunch of goats and promptly dumped your spaghetti and sauce down the front of Carol’s uniform.

“Whoops,” you deadpanned as chaos ensued. Unfortunately, your table was at the back of the cafeteria, so you had to walk past the entirety of your school as the aftermath of your actions caught up with you.

“You nasty bitch!” She screamed behind you as you continued walking. You kept your head down and side-stepped one Eddie Munson who you nearly collided with.

“What was that about, prom queen?” He was grinning from ear to ear and you shrugged.

“Can’t have her soiling my real friends’ names,” you replied and he looked weirdly… impressed.

“And who, pray tell, is special enough to be considered your real friend?” the long-haired boy asked, and as you opened your mouth to escape, Steve appeared next to you, breathless.

“What did she say to you?” He looked positively enraged, but what you were surprised about was that it was on your behalf. He seemed mad that Carol had upset you.

Eddie huffed a laugh and grinned at the two of you before walking back to his table with a hop in his step. Weird.

“Nothing, Steve,” you finally answered, and you kept walking towards the exit, but he followed.

“Come on, something had to have happened?” He prodded and you sighed as you finally exited the commotion of the cafeteria and embraced the silence of the hallway.

“I thought I could handle her, but I couldn’t. And that’s that,” you evaded and he frowned from the corner of your eye.

“Please, Y/N,” Steve rarely used your name and you sighed, looking up at his pouty face. You couldn’t ever resist that look.

“She said Chrissy saw us last night, asked me if we were fucking,” you muttered, and Steve laughed, much to your dismay.

“That’s all? Come on. I’ve heard worse rumors about you and me,” he added, trying to lighten the mood, though your frown didn’t loosen up like he wanted.

“She said I have no standards because I was fucking a guy who was clearly in need of a rebound,” you finished harshly and turned to keep walking.

“Well it doesn’t matter what she says,” Steve followed behind you, quickly catching up on those long legs. “Because we know we’re not hooking up, and I am definitely not looking for a rebound. This heart is broken,” he laughed half heartedly and put a hand over his heart.

“It’s not funny, Steve. If this is just day one, what else can I expect for the rest of the year? And next year?” You fiddled with the rings on your fingers and licked your lips nervously.

“Don’t let her bother you, don’t hang out with her if you don’t want to, don’t sit with her if you don’t want to,” he shrugged like it was so easy.

“I don’t have any real girl friends,” you whispered, pouting. “And I wouldn’t have anywhere to sit.”

“Sit with me,” he smiled down at you, and you only glared.

“Steve, we sit at the same table.”

“Yeah, but far away,” he protested.

“And that would just make things worse for me,” you crossed your arms over your chest and frowned. “She’s already teasing me about you, I don’t need it to get worse.”

“Just tell her the truth,” Steve shrugged and your heart stuttered. What? “Tell her you’d never go for me and you just like me as a friend and then you know you did all you could. And if she doesn’t back off? Fuck her.”

Did he really think that? That you thought of him as just a friend?

“Steve-” but the bell rang. You weren’t even sure what you were going to say.

“I’ll pick you up after cheer and drive you home, okay?” And with that he ran off.

However, that day you got called into the school counselor’s office. After introducing herself, she asked you why you’d done what you did and you explained the teasing. You didn’t tell her about anything important like your mom and dad or what had happened over winter break, but she still insisted you see her once a week.

Fucking great. Now I’m the weirdo who sees the school counselor.

You sighed, and kept your head down the rest of the day until cheer practice.

You were in the girls locker room tying up your practice sneakers when you saw some shadows around you.

“Hey,” you turned to see Carol and two other girls you didn’t know as well crowding you in. “Look, I’m sorry Carol. I’m sorry that I dumped my food on you, but you can’t just make shit up-”

“Shut up, you stupid bitch!” She shrieked, her shrill voice echoing around you and making you flinch back into the locker. “It doesn’t matter what we think anyway. Steve Harrington would never go for a stupid girl like you. Head in the clouds, so dumb, so sad,” she made a cruel imitation of a pout as she crowded in on you. “Wait til he finds out that you don’t eat. You think he would go for someone as fucked up as you?” Her hand was gripping the front of your uniform and you felt a shot of fear, something true and clear. For the first time since the demogorgon you didn’t feel numb. You felt very, very afraid.

“You’re bad at cheering, you’re bad at socializing, you’re a bad friend, and Steve Harrington is the hottest guy in school. You think he would ever fuck an anorexic fucking hag like you?” You gulped, squinting as spittle flew from her mouth. “Girls,” Carol called to her two comrades, and if you were feeling a drop of fear before, you were feeling a storm of dread now. You tried to move, but the two girls held you by your arms as Carol took turns kicking you until you went down with her pristine white cheer sneakers, and punching you in the stomach.

“Don’t mark her face up, someone will ask questions,” one of them muttered as you gasped for air. Carol’s next words were garbled as your vision tunneled, the pain making it hard to focus. But then they dropped you, and you collapsed onto the tile floor.

You laid there for a while, unable to stand until you finally looked up at the clock. The girls would be coming back in from practice soon, so you pulled yourself up on the bench, carefully slung your backpack over your shoulders, and hobbled towards the exit. When you saw Steve’s car waiting outside you cursed, you’d forgotten he was coming to drive you home.

It took all your willpower to straighten your back and walk without a limp towards his car. You even raised a hand to wave at him. “You’re early,” he smiled over at you as you threw yourself into the seat, holding back the wince and groan you nearly let out.

“Practice let out early,” you shrugged and knotted your fingers together. You had a feeling Steve noticed no other cheerleaders were getting out early, but he didn’t say anything.

It was later that night that you broke the news to your mom that you were quitting cheer. She was furious, called you a quitter and lazy. Asked if you wanted to screw up your college admissions. Your dad couldn’t care less.

You found your way up to your bedroom, all the while wishing you could cry to let out some of the emotion you were feeling, but to no avail.

You groaned as you pulled your cheer shirt off, the tight fabric clinging to your skin as you wriggled out of it.

There was a harsh knock on your window and you jerked to the side, staring wide eyed at Steve, who mouthed the words: ‘What the fuck is that.’ He was gesturing at you, and you turned towards your mirror to see your torso, back, and chest littered with black and purple bruises.

He knocked again and you opened the window to let him in.

“What the hell happened to you?” he sounded angry, but you could see in his face that he was worried, and his fingers fluttered above your skin, unsure how to help.

“Um, I dumped food on Carol,” you shrugged, like you’d anticipated this happening. You hadn’t.

“And she beat the shit out of you?” Steve’s warm hands gently pulled you by the arms towards your vanity where he sat you down. He took a moment to make sure there was no broken skin or bones, pressing on a few areas that looked especially bad, but stopping when you hissed in pain.

“Yeah, had two girls hold me back so I couldn’t fight or run,” you muttered and his eyes narrowed.

“Did she say anything?” He asked, going around your back to check there. You thought back to what she’d said to you, and your heart shriveled up a little more. Steve must have seen something on your face. “She did,” he deadpanned, not even a question.

“Um, can I put a shirt on?” You tried to change the subject, and Steve finally seemed to become aware that you were in front of him in just a white bra and your cheer skirt.

“Oh, uh. Yeah, of course,” he turned around and you made your way to the dresser, where you unhooked your bra and struggled your way into a loose pajama shirt. It was long enough that you took your skirt off and it covered all of your butt. So you sat on your bed and cleared your throat.

“You can turn around,” your voice was soft, and Steve immediately turned back around, though this time there was a glint of tears in his eyes. “Oh, Steve,” you whispered, and opened your arms. He came around your bed and hugged you, careful not to squeeze you.

“Don’t think I didn’t notice how thin you’ve gotten,” he muttered and you blanched. “I’m worried about you, but I realize now is not the time to talk about it.”

All you could think of were Carol’s harsh words. You think he would ever fuck an anorexic fucking hag like you? The thought alone almost made you cry, and you welcomed it, but no tears came.

“I’m quitting cheer,” you added once he pulled back and sat next to you on your bed. His arm was wrapped around your shoulders and your head was tucked into his neck. You could almost pretend it was romantic. Almost.

“I can see why,” his voice was like a balm to your wounded body and you relaxed into his hold. “If you want me to say something to her…” He trailed off and you shook your head.

“Please don’t. You’ll only make it worse,” you whispered, and Steve sighed.

“Alright, but if anything else happens I’m getting involved,” he was stern and you nodded sleepily. It was nice feeling like someone had your back. You just wished he could reciprocate your feelings.

The rest of the school year passed without as many hitches. Once you quit cheer, the stress in your life decreased. You got teased a lot, made fun of by your old friends, but you wouldn’t give up your new kindled friendship with Steve for anything.

You had a few more encounters with Eddie Munson which made the teasing even worse. Just talking to him put a target on your back, but he was a nice guy at heart and you liked talking to him. He was the first person to notice you quit cheer, though many noticed immediately after because you and Steve sat at a table by yourselves for the rest of the year.

“No more ra-ra and pom poms?” Eddie asked you that day after school with a smirk.

You huffed.

“You know, getting my ass beat by my ex-friends kinda puts things in perspective,” you countered and he paused, grin dropping.

“You serious?” He wondered aloud, searching your posture, your movements, your mannerisms for hints of pain. He must have found them because he whistled. “You are such a badass. I mean that must have sucked,” he added when you raised your eyebrows. “But damn. At least you and Harrington have each other, yeah?” He asked with a wink and you wrinkled your nose.

“If you’re insinuating we’re anything other than friends, you’re wrong.”

“Friends don’t just leave all of their buddies at the wild jungle that is high school lunch just to sit alone at a table with someone who is just a friend,” he winked at you before wandering off, leaving you more confused than before.

That summer you spent nearly every day with Steve and his buddies: the middle schoolers. He was becoming sort of like an older brother to Dustin Henderson, and you tagged along enough with him to get to know them all, too.

It was sweltering though. You’d had so much water one day that you thought you’d be fine going out and laying by your pool. Steve wandered over from his backyard eventually, lounging next to you.

“Senior year is coming up,” he sighed. “I don’t know what to expect.”

You hummed in response, the heat warming your constantly chilled bones. You were feeling awfully tired, and you expressed your exhaustion to Steve.

“Why don’t we go inside for a little?” He asked. “Can’t be good to melt in the sun all day,” you could hear the smirk in his voice. However, as you stood you felt a wave of dizziness washed over you and you stumbled, black dots filling your vision.

“Whoa, hey,” Steve was up in an instant, strong arms encircling you as you found your footing “You okay there, princess?” He was hesitant to let you go, but the dizziness passed, your vision cleared, and you stepped out of his embrace.

“I’m okay, maybe just a little too much sun,” you offered him a forced giggle, and he followed you towards your house, but he was worried,

“What have you eaten today?” He asked, voice low, and you thought back.

“Um I had water and coffee for breakfast, a lot of water all day. Hmm. I was so focused on hydrating I must have forgotten,” you lied, hopefully smoothly. Yeah, you thought to yourself. Forgotten. Okay, liar.

“Well let me make you something.”

God, Steve was so nice. You could never say no to him. So you let him make you a peanut butter and jelly, your favorite as a kid and a staple in your life now.

You spent the rest of that exceptionally hot summer being more careful around him, not wanting to raise suspicions. You hated lying to him, but you didn’t know what else to do. Not while you were living with your parents. Not while your mom still had control over you.

Part 2

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #fluff #angst #fanfiction #fanfic #stranger things #season 1 #stranger things season 1 #eddie munson #carol perkins #achy heart

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scuttling · 3 years

Text

While You Were Sleeping (Okay, in a Coma)

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairings: Derek Morgan & Latina Original Female Character Aaron Hotchner/Latina Original Female Character Derek Morgan/Spencer Reid Word Count: 2,058 Chapters: 1 of ? WIP Tags: SFW so far, Sophie is not in the BAU, While You Were Sleeping (film) AU, Coffee shop, Unrequited love, Canon-typical violence, Slow burn

Summary: What happens when Derek Morgan, the man Sophie Cortes is secretly in love with, goes into a coma, and everyone around them mistakes her for his girlfriend? As if things weren't complicated enough, his boss is sweet, kind, incredibly handsome, and makes sure she's taken care of while Derek is in the hospital. Plus, she thinks one of Derek's coworkers is more secretly in love with him than she is. Feelings shift, but how does Sophie explain to the world that she fell for Aaron while Derek was sleeping, without hurting everyone she's come to care about?

Read on AO3 or read more below! The morning that changes Sophie Cortes’s life forever begins much like any other: she wakes up at 3 AM to her blaring alarm, slides out of bed with a groan, tugs off the oversized t-shirt she slept in and pulls on a sports bra and leggings to go for a run. She knows this makes her sound like a lunatic, but with her schedule, if she doesn’t exercise before the crack of dawn, it just doesn’t happen.

After her run, she goes home to shower and change, grabs her bag and drives to The Busy Bean, the coffee shop she co-owns with her best friend Jocelyn. Jocelyn is the brains of the operation, the one with all the great marketing ideas, the one who handles the finances and vendors and supply issues and makes sure everything is Fair Trade or else—Sophie bakes cookies and makes macchiatos, but everyone’s got their strong suits.

She loves the coffee shop more than anything, its bright brick walls and dark wood floors, the smell of fresh beans and sugar, the bustle of regular customers they get from being so near Quantico; most of them are serious suit types, always in a hurry, but some of them are sweet, take their time to say good morning, like Sophie’s favorite customer, Derek.

She knows Derek is a fed of some sort, even though he’s not usually in a suit. He has that air about him, like he’s powerful and capable, like he’s seen things, but he never fails to flash her a megawatt smile, to lean against the counter while she makes his mocha and ask her how her morning is going. She’s a little bit in love with him.

Jocelyn knows this, and always makes sure Sophie is the one to wait on him; when she calls Sophie out from the kitchen specifically because Derek’s there, she knows he knows, and she flushes, but he says she makes his drink better than anyone, always asks her for a cookie recommendation on Fridays so he can take a box to the office, so she thinks it might not be completely one sided. Maybe. Or he’s just a really, really sweet guy.

On the morning that changes her life forever, he’s still very sweet, but she also sees a side of him she’s never seen before.

Someone tries to rob them. The man walks right up to the counter, no mask, no nothing, and tells her to put all of the money from the register into a cookie box or he’ll pull out the gun he’s got in his pocket and blow her face off. Her first instinct is to be pissed about this, which she knows is really stupid. She takes a step back, looks at the guy like he’s an idiot, crosses her arms.

“Are you fucking kidding me? Do you know how hard we work for this money? We don’t sit around… playing video games in our mom’s basement, like you do, by the looks of it.” The guy is obviously not happy about this, slams his hands down on the counter, and Derek, who is two spots behind him, leans slightly out of line to get her attention.

“Sophie, is this guy bothering you?” Before she can answer, the guy turns to look at Derek; he takes one glance at his hot, strong physique, and then his gun and his badge thing, and books it out of the shop. Derek tears off after him, and Sophie can see this ending very badly, so she grabs Jocelyn, asks her to cover the register and tells her she’ll be right back.

She jogs outside, expecting to see Derek manhandling the dumbass robber, or at least still chasing after him; she does not expect to see Derek laying on the ground, bleeding out, a bullet wound in his stomach.

“Oh my god, Derek!” She skids to a halt next to him, pulls off her apron—it’s mostly clean, she thinks—and lifts up his shirt, presses it to the wound to stop the bleeding. “Are you okay? That’s dumb, you’re not okay, but can you hear me? Are you going to die?” He chuckles, and that makes her feel a little better, but then he coughs up blood, and that makes her feel much, much worse.

She pulls her phone out of her back pocket, calls 911, and just stays with him, talks to him about nothing and everything, until the police and paramedics arrive. At that point, he has passed out, looks drained and weak, so unlike the Derek she has come to know… and love. Fuck. If he dies because of something that happened at her shop…

“Excuse me, miss, but we need to get him on the stretcher,” an EMT says, putting his hand gently on her shoulder. She backs off, knows he needs to be attended to, but she can’t leave him, she just can’t.

“Can I ride to the hospital with him? Please,” she asks the other tech, and she glances at her partner, who nods. Sophie sighs a breath of relief, sends a text to Jocelyn explaining what happened and that she’ll need to be out of the shop for the foreseeable future.

She notices that Derek’s phone has fallen off of his belt, and she picks it up, since the paramedics don’t seem interested. She absently decides to look through his recent contacts, to see if there’s someone she should inform of the accident: the last number he dialed belongs to someone named Hotch, and she vaguely remembers him mentioning the name before. It might be his boss, or something? He dials the number frequently, anyway, so she figures it’s worth a shot.

“Hotchner,” the man answers after two rings, and Sophie sighs, glad she got through to someone. Even if he’s not the person she should be contacting, he might know how to reach them.

“Uh, hello. I’m pretty sure you’re Derek’s boss, but even if you aren’t, you’re the last person he called, so… There’s been an accident. Derek’s been shot. We’re headed to the GWU Medical Center; I thought you would want to know.” She can hear the man moving some papers in the background, banging something around on his desk, maybe.

“We’re on the way; how bad is it? Is he conscious? What happened?” The paramedics signal for her to hop into the back of the ambulance, so she does, and she takes Derek’s limp hand. Her eyes well up with tears, and it feels real, now, that she has to relive it.

“There was someone trying to rob the coffee shop, and—and Derek went after him; he had a gun, and I guess he shot him. I mean, he obviously shot him. In the stomach. He’s not conscious; I don’t know how bad it is, but he was coughing up blood. Oh, god,” she breathes, voice shaky, and the man on the phone makes a soft sound of reassurance.

“It’s alright. He’s a very strong person, I promise you. He’ll be okay. You said you were headed to GWU Medical Center; are you with him now?”

“Yes. The paramedics let me ride with him. I can text you an update when we get there, his room number if he has one.” She can hear him talking to someone else in the background, but it only takes him a moment to answer.

“Please do. We’ll be there as quickly as we can. Thank you,…?” He pauses, clearly wondering who the hell she is.

“Oh, Sophie. Sophie Cortes.”

“Aaron Hotchner. Thank you. We’ll see you soon.”

The paramedics push Derek into the emergency room entrance, and Sophie follows behind, feeling anxious and out of place, and worried about his injury. They push the gurney through a set of double doors, and Sophie goes to follow, but a stern looking nurse in gold scrubs puts a hand in front of her, doesn’t even look up from her clipboard.

“You can’t go in there.” Sophie’s heart-rate jumps, and she shakes her head.

“I need to go in there, I need to make sure he’s okay. Please.”

“Are you family?” she asks, giving her a once-over; she clearly decides that Sophie is not family, and she doesn’t want to lie, anyway.

“No, I’m not family, but—”

“Like I said, you can’t go in there. Family only.” She moves her arm, waits like she dares Sophie to try, but she just sighs, sags against the wall, and the woman walks away.

“But you don’t understand,” Sophie says weakly, to herself. “I’m in love with him.” She brings up a hand to scrub at the tears forming in her eyes, and another nurse, one with blue scrubs and braids and a kind smile, rests a palm on her shoulder.

“Come with me.” Sophie looks up at her—she looks kind of like an angel, but it’s probably just the fluorescent lighting—and nods, follows.

She takes her through a staff only door, sneaks her into the OR hallway, where they can peer through a window at Derek, surrounded by doctors, surgeons, nurses. Sophie has only seen this kind of stuff on TV, so she doesn’t know how it’s going, but the nurse who brought her tells her to stay there for one second and bustles off.

It’s really scary to watch: there are bloody cloths being thrown around, and tubes and clamps and other medical devices she’s not sure the use for, but after a moment, she can see a doctor lift up a pair of surgical pliers, and there’s a bullet between the prongs. That’s a good sign, she’s pretty sure.

The nice nurse comes back, and she scares the shit out of Sophie when she puts a hand on her arm, making her jump a foot. She smiles apologetically, and Sophie returns it.

“I found out his room number, if you’d like to go sit and wait for him to be brought in. It's an ICU, so technically visiting hours haven’t started yet, but I can make an exception—for an hour, okay?” Sophie nods, wraps her hands around the nurse's wrists.

“Thank you so much. Really—I just need to know he’s okay,” she says, and the woman nods understandingly and takes her to room 104, where Derek will be placed after surgery.

She texts the number to Derek’s boss, takes a seat on the chair in the corner of the room. She gets restless quickly, stands up, uses the bathroom sink to scrub at her hands, because they’re still stained with Derek’s blood. It’s quiet, eerily so, until suddenly it isn’t.

Derek is wheeled in on a bed by a couple of nurses; he looks a little better, all wrapped up in gauze, and they hook him to machines, displaying a steady heartbeat. She breathes a sigh of relief. He’s alright. He’s not dead. That’s incredible news. She takes his hand, wills herself not to cry, murmurs that she’s so happy he’s alive.

As soon as the nurses leave, a group of people who can only be Derek’s coworkers enter the room. There is a tall, serious looking man with dark hair and a dark suit; a woman with thick fringe, a kind face; an older guy with facial hair who looks worried and weary; a skinny guy who looks about the same as Sophie feels; a petite blonde woman with the bluest eyes Sophie’s ever seen; and another blonde woman with crimped hair and glossy lips who has absolutely been crying. They look at Sophie, and she stands, drops Derek’s hand.

“Um, hi, I’m—”

“Who are you?” a doctor says suddenly from behind the group. The kind nurse who let her see Derek is behind him. The serious looking man reaches into his pocket, flashes a badge with a no-nonsense expression.

“We’re with the FBI. We’re his coworkers.” He looks over at Sophie, and she takes a deep breath. Before she can explain who she is, the kind nurse steps around the doctor, flashes Sophie a smile.

“And she’s his girlfriend.”

Uh. What the fuck?

Derek’s coworkers exchange a look that says pretty much the same thing; the tall skinny one looks like his heart has been broken.

Sophie opens her mouth to correct that extremely incorrect assumption, but she can’t find the words, and then she passes out.

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner/original female character #aaron hotchner x original female character #aaron hotchner fanfic #derek morgan #derek morgan fanfic #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #latina original female character #moreid #while you were sleeping #coffee shop au #derek morgan x spencer reid #derek morgan/spencer reid

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spicycreativity · 3 years

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Soft-Shoe Shuffle - Ch 1

Chapter: 1/12 Rating: T (for language) Content Warnings: Canon-typical Remus content. This chapter only: alcohol use Characters: All Pairings: Moceit, background Prinxiety, background Intrulogical (yes I played a little game of "pair the spares") Additional Tags: Hey it's the fic I published on Anon because I was embarrassed of how utterly pretentious it is!, post-PoF, sickfic, dirty poetry, humor interspersed with philosophy and Janus-typical pontification, this is VERY speculative and will get Jossed in the future lmao Summary: After claiming his place in the Light and coming face-to-face with the consequences of his actions, Janus finds himself unwillingly re-calibrating his moral compass. For selfish reasons, of course. But one apology snowballs into several, and soon he's running around the Mindscape with a low-grade fever and a guilty conscience as he desperately tries to regain some sense of self. Oh, and he's definitely not falling in love with Patton, so don't even bring it up. One Last Note: I wrote this in an ADHD fugue state. It is HEAVILY influenced by Dostoyevsky's Crime and Punishment, but there are also references to poetry and various other works of literature. I also deliberately used symbols, themes, and motifs. Most of them are pretty in your face except for the recurring ouroboros, which is used as a symbol of rebirth. ...Told you it was pretentious.

When you wake up to the promise of your dream world comin' true With one less friend to call on, was it someone that I knew? Away you will go sailing in a race among the ruins If you plan to face tomorrow, do it soon

Janus appeared in the Dark side of the Mindscape, elation swelling in his chest. Even the ringing headache and bitter taste in his mouth couldn't hollow the unfamiliar triumph that warmed him to the core. Caught up in his own thoughts, it took a moment for him to register the sight before him: Remus, upside-down on the couch, his brow furrowed and face an alarming shade of purple.

For a moment, Janus stood stock-still as he tried to get his bearings. He must have been more flustered than he'd realized-- He'd been aiming for his bedroom.

But here he was, staring down at Remus, who was definitely going to burst a blood vessel (or several) if he didn't flip over soon.

"That's not horrifying at all," Janus said, thinking it would be rude to dismiss Remus, especially since he had probably been eavesdropping. He had likely heard everything. Everything. Even the ugly parts.

"Do you remember when Thomas read that post about Nutty Putty Cave?" Remus asked in a strained, strangled voice. "That spelunker who died because he got stuck upside-down?"

"No," Janus said, before realizing his mistake. "Yes." He definitely wanted Remus to remind him of the gory details.

"That's what I thought," Remus said with a wicked grin.

Janus sighed through his nose. Remus, though he thrived on attention, seemed content enough to continue his experiment by himself. On the other hand, if Janus didn't bring up a certain insult he'd levied at Roman, Remus most certainly would, and at a time where it would cause the most upset and turmoil. Better for Janus to deal with it now, even if he would have to fight the tension pulling his muscles taut. He wanted to dance. He wanted to scream.

Hesitation proved to be Janus' downfall, and by the time he'd opened his mouth to broach the subject at hand, Remus had beaten him to the blow. "You're not usually this quiet, Oralboros. Snake got your tongue?"

Janus, again, sighed. Rather than answer, he doffed his hat, set it on the coffee table, and clumsily arranged himself upside-down next to Remus. The change in position immediately made his head throb. He ignored it. "I definitely meant it when I called you 'evil'."

Remus' eyes widened in faux-shock. "You called me evil ?" he shrieked, voice ringing out high and clear. "Me? How dare you. I'm an angel!"

At least Remus was taking it well. "Sarcasm is my thing," Janus said, realizing that he might make it out of this without having to properly apologize.

For some reason, Patton's face flashed into his mind, and a subsequent twinge of guilt made his tongue go sour. Fine. If there was ever a time to start telling uncomfortable truths… "But I am sorry I said that."

"Wow!" Remus laughed. "You must be upset." A red stain began to spill across his left eye. "You don't apologize."

"It’s not like I care about your feelings or anything." Janus would have liked to have drawn himself up to his full height, but it was impossible to do while upside-down. "As much as I'm enjoying watching your blood vessels slowly burst, would you please turn over before you hurt yourself? I've suffered enough psychological trauma for today."

"Oh, fine." Remus kicked his legs and landed neatly on his toes like a gymnast.

Janus, by contrast, got his arms tangled in his capelet and nearly folded himself in half before he found his balance again. "I meant to do that," he said, turning to grab his hat so Remus wouldn't see the blush on his face.

The sudden sensation of blood draining from his head made the room whirl. He steadied himself against Remus' shoulder until it slowed somewhat, but nothing could dampen the horrible ringing in his ears.

"Well," he said, adjusting his shirt. The sudden appearance of his conscience had taken the wind out of his sails more than he cared to admit, and all thoughts of dancing bled out of him along with a good deal of energy. "I'm not going to go scream into my pillows until I tire myself out."

"Being an agent of chaos is hard work," Remus said with a sage nod, "but that doesn't sound very relaxing, Mr Self Care."

"It's a form of meditation, if you think about it," Janus said.

Remus made a face. "You know I don't do that."

"...Meditate?"

"No, think."

"Ah. Well." Janus made only a token attempt to hide his fond smile. "Good night, Remus. Please stay up late and injure yourself."

"Can do, Snakeypoo.”

Janus turned. It was close enough, he might as well walk to his bedroom, especially considering how well his last attempt at appearing in it had gone.

The reason why that had been so difficult became apparent in mere moments. Janus froze in the hall and dropped to his knees at the giddy wave of horror and delight that made him too light-headed to stand.

He knelt in front of the empty stretch of wall where his door had been previously. Heat flooded his face.

"Jay?" The rounded toes of Remus' boots appeared in his line of sight. Janus zeroed in on them, the mud splatters and stains on the soft leather. "You have an aneurysm or what?"

Janus, unable to speak, motioned for Remus to turn around. He couldn't deal with this right now.

"Ohhh," said Remus. "Well. Good luck with that ." He hauled Janus to his feet. "So you're a boner fide good guy now, huh?"

Janus stared over Remus' shoulder at the empty stretch of wall where his door used to be. "That depends entirely on who you ask."

Remus shrugged and rose up on his toes. "You can scream into my pillows instead, if you want."

"As tempting as that is…" Janus trailed off, his eyes still fixed on the wall. It was tempting, despite the constant chaos in Remus' room. But he'd have to face the Light side sooner or later. It wasn't like he could move his room back, not without psychologically damaging Thomas and undoing all the work he'd done. "I'm really looking forward to getting insulted some more."

"Alright," Remus said with a shrug. "Try not to throw me under the bus this time, alright? Unless it's a real bus…" His gaze became dreamy, unfocused. "And it's doing 50 in a school zone and there's a whole pack of screaming kids in the crosswalk--"

"Goodbye, Remus." Janus turned and left.

The barrier between the "dark" and the "light" sides of Thomas' brain had been a joint venture. It would have been there in some form no matter what, but it was Janus and Roman (with Patton's tacit blessing) who had worked to put up something more physical between them.

Janus ducked under the red curtain, trepidation percolating in his stomach, but what he found on the other side was anticlimactic to say the least: It was dead silent on this side of the barrier.

Janus wasn't sure what he'd been expecting. He knew by now that the so-called "Lights" had issues working out their interpersonal issues, and this most recent conflict wasn't the kind of thing you just got over. It did follow that they would all go off to lick their wounds for a time.

Hesitantly, toe-to-heel, Janus crept down the hall. It felt for all the world like he was sneaking around a vast hotel, right down to needlessly ornate design on the plush carpeting. That was probably Roman's doing.

Janus focused, trying to call the Mindscape to work for him. He wanted to go to his room.

The Mindscape listened. Janus turned a corner and found a row of doors stretching down yet another brightly-lit corridor. His eye was immediately drawn, not to the brilliant yellow of his own door, but to the figure huddled in front of it: Patton sat with his arms wrapped around his legs, forehead resting on his knees.

"Looking for someone?" Janus asked, slightly louder than necessary.

Patton jerked his head up. "Oh! Janus!" He plastered an unconvincing smile on his face. "You sure pop star-tled me."

Scaring Patton hadn't brought Janus nearly the level of schadenfreude he'd thought it would. He crossed his arms over his chest, extending a third to help Patton up. "Take your time getting to the point.”

"Oh." Patton accepted Janus' proffered hand and got to his feet. Warmth spilled from him, permeating the fabric of Janus' glove and gently heating his palm. "Well, it's just…" He took a deep breath. "I noticed your door and I thought-- Well, I wanted to make you feel welcome!"

A high-pitched tone resonated in Janus' skull. He bit down on the inside of his cheek to keep from wincing at the mounting pressure-pain-exhaustion in his temples. "Aren't you just a saint ." Patton's face fell. Janus fought the urge to swear aloud. He usually had a better handle on himself, and he knew better than to alienate potential allies. "I mean, thank you, Patton. Truly. I appreciate it." Patton had proven himself useful. Janus should at least cultivate that relationship, even if it meant a little discomfort.

"Have you eaten?" Patton asked. "It's a little late, but I could make something if you wanted." He paused. "Maybe we could play cards or something." Another pause. "O-only if you want to, I mean."

Janus let his face remain impassive even as he internally cringed at the idea of staying awake for even another second. It would be so easy to brush Patton off with a few honeyed words and disappear beyond the barrier of his door. But Patton had stood up for him today, or at least he'd tried to. Janus sighed. Quid pro quo. "That sounds like an utter waste of time."

"Are you… I'm sorry, sometimes I can't tell when you're…"

"Yes, Patton. That sounds lovely."

Patton actually hopped in place, an adorable little jig that absolutely didn't send a confusing little shockwave of fondness through Janus' ribcage. "Really?"

"Really," Janus lied.

He followed Patton down the hall into the living room, which opened into the dining room and the kitchen. Janus studied his surroundings, trying to take in as much as his exhausted faculties would allow. Even in the absence of other Sides, the living room felt warm and welcoming. All the lights were on, and they bathed everything in gentle golden light .

"You're awfully quiet," Patton said.

Janus shook himself. "I was just getting my bearings."

"I guess you've never really been over here, huh?" Pattton opened the refrigerator. Was he actually going to cook , instead of just manifesting something? How quaint. "Do you like grilled cheese?"

It had been a long, confusing day. Doublespeak came to Janus as naturally as breathing, but he was obviously running circles around Patton even when he wasn't trying to. "Yes," he said, hoping to telegraph his sincerity by not emoting at all.

It seemed to work. Patton studied him for a moment before turning back to the fridge. "Then that's what I'll make."

Janus took advantage of this temporary distraction to clamber onto one of the barstools. The slick velvet of his capelet tended to disagree with surfaces like wood and vinyl, and he needed a moment to arrange things so he didn't look as unbalanced as he felt.

He watched Patton work in the kitchen, a detached coolness washing out the scene. Quid pro quo, he reminded himself when he felt his facade begin to slip. He owed Patton this.

He certainly didn't feel the slightest twinge of guilt, that he had been the one to orchestrate this breakdown. Yes, the Light Sides had loaded the gun, but in the end it was Janus who had pulled the trigger.

He shook his head and thought about playing cards, good Bicycle playing cards with holes punched through them like they'd come from a casino. "What should we play?" he asked, pulling the deck from his breast pocket.

Patton looked up from the stovetop, his eyes flicking to the cards in Janus' hand. "Do you know Kings in the Corners?"

"Not personally, no."

Patton laughed, but there was something cold about it. "It's really simple," he said. "I'll show you how to play and you can tell me if you like it."

It was nearly impossible to cheat at Kings in the Corners. Janus doubted this had been a calculated measure on Patton's part, doubted he had the capacity for that kind of foresight, but he respected it just the same.

They played in funereal silence, staring each other down across the light wood of the dining room table. Janus, ill-inclined to take off his gloves, utilized a napkin to keep from staining them with melted butter from the grilled cheese Patton had made. Neither one of them smiled. Neither one of them spoke.

Janus pulled a card from the deck to indicate the end of his turn and glanced up at Patton. His face was somber, almost sorrowful, and it clashed against the gentle domesticity of the dining room, with its floral table runner and mismatched placemats.

Janus started to laugh.

"What is it?" Patton asked, cheeks darkening. "What? Do I have something on my face?"

Janus swallowed down another peal of laughter and cleared his throat, unable to wholly restrain the smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "You look like I’m holding you here at gunpoint." It was somewhat ironic, considering Janus was the one who felt like he couldn't leave.

"What?" Patton smiled, but it was more akin to an offering than an expression of joy.

"It’s not really funny. " Janus wasn’t quite sure how to make Patton understand.

Patton sat back with a sigh, placing his cards facedown on the table. "But I guess it is pretty funny, huh? In a really sad way."

Janus almost asked what was sad about it before realizing that Patton probably missed his friends. Instead he said, "Yes" and stifled a yawn behind his free hand.

"I'll make coffee!" Patton leapt to his feet and was off to the kitchen before Janus could so much as blink.

The newfound solitude made it that much harder for Janus to ignore his headache, which had only worsened in the hour or so he'd been playing cards with Patton. Despite the nonchalant facade he'd tried so hard to project, he'd been holding himself tense.

Maybe the night (or morning, at this point) would be easier to tolerate if he had, say, a bit of gold rum.

The corner of a flask dug into Janus' hip. He smiled.

"Just how late are you planning on staying up?" he asked Patton when the latter returned holding two mismatched mugs.

"Oh, I don't know," Patton said. Lied. He set a mug down in front of Janus and then resumed his seat, the cards forgotten by his elbow. "I'm… A little scared of what tomorrow will be like."

Janus eased the flask out of his pocket. "Rum?"

"Oh, um," Patton said, staring at the flask. "I don't know…"

Janus raised an eyebrow, working something out. He landed on it a millisecond later: Patton wanted to be convinced. Easy enough. Janus opened the flask and poured what he hoped was a shot into his own mug. It was black, he noticed, except for the yellow snake that wrapped around it, its tail firmly in its own mouth. Ouroboros. "Surely you don't intend to make me drink alone?"

As Janus had expected, Patton buckled the second he was pushed. "I guess not."

It was funny, Janus mused as he carefully tipped rum into Patton's coffee, how lying was only off-limits when Janus suggested it. Hilarious.

But now wasn't the time for bitterness, now was the time to repay the debt he owed Patton. "Cheers," he said, pocketing the flask once more.

"Cheers."

Janus sipped his coffee. "You put milk in this," he observed.

Patton's smile was surprisingly sly. "I know you want me to think you take it black. Virgil did too, at first. I know you ‘Dark Sides’ have an image you like to uphold."

"And how does Virgil take his coffee now?" Janus asked, lifting an eyebrow.

"With Snickers-flavored creamer."

"Well, I do take my coffee black," Janus lied.

Patton's smile never faltered. "We'll see, kid-- Uh, Janus."

"Patton," Janus said, before he could start thinking about the implications of Patton wanting to call him 'kiddo,' "you are planning on sleeping tonight, aren't you?"

"Maybe eventually," Patton said, suddenly unable to look Janus in the eye. "At some point."

"Tomorrow will come whether or not you sleep. It's definitely better to pull an all-nighter and feel like garbage instead of facing everything with a clear head."

"I know." Patton leaned forward so he could rest his head on his hand.

For a moment, Janus was tempted to mirror him. Sitting up straight was becoming quite the chore. "I know how the others love a calm, rational discussion."

"Oh, I wish." Patton's expression turned wistful.

Janus stifled a yawn behind his hand. He had half-expected the coffee to counteract the depressant effect of the alcohol, but all he had to show for the combination was a racing heart.

"I'll be fine out here if you want to go to bed," Patton said. Without seeming to realize he was doing it, he brought his hand to his mouth and bit down on his thumbnail.

It was a tempting offer. A day ago, Janus would have taken it. After all, it wasn't like he cared about Patton outside of professional courtesy. They weren't friends. But guilt nagged at him and wouldn't let him entertain the idea of abandoning Patton for longer than a second.

"That's a remarkable impression of a window," Janus said, waiting for Patton to look confused before elaborating, "I can see right through you."

"You got me." Patton smiled sadly. "That's something I've always admired about you, Janus."

Now it was Janus' turn to be confused. "What?"

"You're so… clever."

Janus narrowed his eyes. "Please do keep trying to change the subject."

"It's just… I don't want to have to lie there and, and think about today and everything I did wrong. I hurt Thomas. I hurt my friends." Patton's eyes were shiny behind his glasses; the unshed tears sparkled in the light when he locked eyes with Janus. "Aren't you going to think about the same thing?"

Anger flared, perhaps prematurely, in Janus' chest. "About what you did wrong today?"

"About what you did wrong," Patton said timidly.

"I," Janus said icily, "didn't do anything wrong." He stared Patton down across the table, jaw set, daring him to push back. Let him lecture and nag, let him prove that he hadn't changed no matter what he said.

But Patton only nodded, his face lined with misery. "Okay," he softly. "I think you're right, Janus. We should go to bed."

Janus thought about how much faster he could get to bed if the table was cleared, and all the dishes and cards vanished in a blink.

"Um, Janus?" Patton said.

"Yes?"

"I don't regret everything that happened today."

"Oh?"

Patton only nodded and sank out.

Janus made a beeline for his own room; better to find his way there on foot rather than risk appearing in the wrong spot.

Once inside, he looked around to ensure nothing was amiss, eyes roving over the dark wood of his bookshelves and desk, his mirrored closet doors, the leather armchairs across from his bed.

Everything was exactly as Janus had left it. He nodded, satisfied, set his hat on the nightstand, and sprawled out of top of the covers without bothering to further undress.

One hazy thought crawled to the surface of his mind before he fell asleep: At least he wouldn't be one of the regrets haunting Patton tonight.

#sanders sides #sanders sides fanfiction #janus sanders #moceit #spicywrites soft-shoe shuffle #song featured is: race among the ruins - gordon lightfoot #pics are free to use from unsplash and wikimedia commons

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todisturbtheuniverse · 4 years

Text

FIC: Set All Trappings Aside [1/8]

Rating: T Fandom: Dragon Age: Inquisition Pairing: f!Adaar/Josephine Montilyet Tags: Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining, Class Differences Word Count: 1900 (this chapter) Summary: After months of flirtation, a contract on Josephine's life brings Adaar's feelings for her closer to the surface than ever. It highlights, too, all of their differences, all of the reasons a relationship between them would not last. But Adaar is a hopeful woman at heart; if Josephine can set all trappings aside, then so can she. Also on AO3. Notes: While the context for this story is the Of Somewhat Fallen Fortune questline, some of the conversations within it didn't quite fit for this Inquisitor. The resulting fic is a twist on the canon romance. This Adaar and Josephine have featured in other fics, so you may miss a little context if you haven't read Promising or Truth-Telling, which both come before this one.

On any other day, Josephine would have enjoyed this: a beautiful, cloudless afternoon in Val Royeaux; the scent of delicate, baking pastries floating on a soft breeze; Adaar standing close at her side, close enough that clothes and arms brushed. That last, especially.

But today, there was no room between them for unspoken fantasies, sparks of electricity, daydreams. Adaar's tension simmered in her taut arm, fingers twitching as if to seize her belt knife at the slightest provocation—or maybe ready to pull loose her daggers instead. Her dark eyes flicked to every passing face. She stood so close not for any courtly reason, but because she clearly expected an assassin to materialize out of the nearest rosebush and make an attempt right there in the street, while the passersby tittered and gasped.

It was Orlais. They probably would titter at such an event.

But she knew that she would not have received such a cordial warning only to be targeted fifteen minutes later. That would be unprofessional, and the House of Repose was anything but.

"Inquisitor," she murmured. "Please do not be so alarmed."

Adaar spared a glance down at her. "Alarmed is an understatement."

"I am safe enough here," she reasoned, though despite the cloudless sky, despite a bard's voice twining sweetly through the air, despite the scent of flowers in the garden just behind them—all so familiar, Val Royeaux as she'd known it for so long—she did feel a chill. "And there is a way to undo this."

Adaar glanced around again, gave a grumble of frustration, and took Josephine's arm, tugging her into an alcove out of the sun. She did this very gently, her fingers leaving only the slightest impression in the crook of Josephine's elbow.

"Yes, there is," she said, lowering her voice. She glanced over Josephine's shoulder once—looking for threats from the only direction that remained—and then refocused on Josephine's face, her gaze heated. "Point me at the House of Repose, and I will eliminate them."

There was no humor in her voice; there was no anger, not even veiled; but the chill in Josephine's blood deepened, biting like the wind that always snuck through Skyhold's wounds.

She hadn't forgotten what Adaar was capable of. No, there was evidence enough—history enough—of that. It was just that this coldness, this ferocity, was something new, different. In Josephine's company, she was gregarious, smiling, cheerful, never without a joke or three; the visible daggers and hidden knives seemed like a mistake, lethal weapons accidentally hung on a gentle, sweet woman. Even with blades in her hands, in the practice yard, she joked and ribbed and laughed. Every round seemed like a game to her, punctuated with a grin.

But for ten years, Adaar had been a mercenary. Josephine imagined that plenty of clients had pointed her at a target before, to great success. The Inquisition had pointed her at such targets. But she had never worn this face, still and calculating, so out of place on her features.

"This is a personal matter," Josephine said. "I could not use Inquisition resources to—"

Adaar let loose a stream of curses under her breath, composure dissolving; they were heated enough that the surrounding passersby gave her frightened little glances before scurrying on their way. But it was better than that awful look that had so briefly settled on her face.

"I'll take the Valo-Kas with me." There was passion in her voice now. "It won't be an Inquisition operation. This is no longer your Great Game, Josephine. This is your life. I won't wait while they—"

At a loss for anything else to do—she had never seen steady, implacable Adaar so rattled before—Josephine reached out to take her hand. Adaar's palm was thickly calloused; the little ridges caused by Josephine's laboring with pens seemed minute by comparison. Adaar stopped, mid-sentence, and looked down at her as if startled.

She didn't pull away, though.

"I know the House of Repose," Josephine said, holding Adaar's gaze. "I have a little time. I can take care of this without bloodshed—surely they are amiable to that, if they brought us here, to give me warning—"

"They're an assassin's league," Adaar protested, but she looked more bewildered than angry now.

"You don't understand. It's business; this is only what they're paid to do."

"I don't understand?" Josephine had never seen this look on Adaar's face before, either: not just confused, but hurt, her mouth twisting with it. "I've been a mercenary, Lady Montilyet. Fancy contracts or not, I know how this business works."

Adaar pulled her hand away and took a step back, and Josephine silently cursed her own clumsiness. She was rattled, after all, to misstep so badly. She knew—not from being told, of course, just from months of observation—that Adaar was sensitive about her own low-born roots. Not ashamed, never, but she'd been thrust into what passed as a noble's role with no experience, and Josephine had worked so hard to show her that it was all easy enough to understand, to navigate...only to take all that back with three little words.

It was just that her head was still swimming with the outrage of it, the—the injustice of it. A contract a century old stood between her and something she'd worked her whole life to obtain? A contract she'd never known about? No one had warned her that such a thing could be possible, that she could come this far in righting her family's status only to be turned away at the eleventh hour.

"Please—Inquisitor." The right title, now, not her name, to show her the respect she deserved, but Adaar didn't react the way a dignitary would; she bore it more like a burden than a privilege, and her frown deepened. Josephine had to work to make her voice level again, but she succeeded, hands clasped before her to hide any trembling. "That was poorly said. I apologize."

Adaar merely watched her, no emotion discernible in her eyes, and didn't reply.

Josephine's heart twisted in her chest. They'd never argued. In jest, maybe, or professionally, when they disagreed on war table matters, but not like this. She hated it, but she had to make Adaar understand. If there was a path before them that offered no bloodshed, only a little time, then she had to take it.

She took a steadying breath. "I only meant that they've extended me a courtesy, based on...extenuating circumstances...and, if my interpretation of that is correct, I have a little time to negotiate this before it gets out of hand. It's not a typical situation. The usual rules don't apply."

"And if it isn't?"

Josephine blinked. "If it isn't…?"

"If your interpretation is wrong."

For a long moment, they looked at one another, and Josephine wished that Adaar would not stand so far away; she wished that she had not brought this trouble to Adaar at all. But she'd had precious few alternatives.

"If my interpretation is wrong," she said, "then I suppose we must do things your way."

Adaar's face softened minutely, maybe hearing Josephine's reluctance. She closed the gap between them and placed her hands on Josephine's shoulders.

This was a dire situation. Lives were at stake—not just her life. Her poor messengers. Her heart ached for them, guilt and grief tangled up. But when Adaar looked at her like that, she...didn't forget, exactly. But the pain eased. When Adaar touched her, capable hands molding to her shoulders like they alone could protect her, her heart beat with something that was neither guilt nor grief.

"We will do things the way you like, until the House of Repose sends someone to kill another of your messengers, or you," Adaar said. "I'm going to assign guards to you; Leliana and Cullen can decide which of their people are best-suited."

"Really, I think that is unnecessary." It was a weak protest.

Adaar ignored this. "As soon as there is another attempt, you are out of time. Understood?"

Adaar didn't pull rank very often. She preferred to wheedle and convince everyone around the war table to do as she liked by getting them to see her side, not just by demanding it.

"You can't eliminate an entire assassin's league," Josephine told her quietly.

"I'm sure Leliana has some ideas." Adaar held up a hand when Josephine opened her mouth to argue. "No, I don't plan to kill them all. Something more creative would be required. I'll have to think." She eyed Josephine, one eyebrow raised. "I want a plan in place. In case."

"I suppose that is a fair compromise," Josephine allowed.

Adaar fixed her with a serious stare. "For the tongue-lashing Leliana is going to give me, I could ask for a lot more. She will not like leaving this untended."

"It is my decision. Leliana will understand that." Reluctantly, she thought, but didn't say.

Adaar grimaced. "I didn't say she was going to give you a tongue-lashing."

Josephine managed a weak smile. "Oh, she will. She just doesn't scare me as much as she scares you."

Adaar snorted, reaching up to pull the length of her braid over her shoulder. "She doesn't scare me. This, though? This scares me. The Inquisition needs you. I can't seriously look at a direct threat to one of my advisors and do nothing."

"I don't plan to do nothing," Josephine declared, bristling. "And I'm certain I will need your help, so you will not be doing nothing, either. But these are dangerous times, Inquisitor. Whether it's the House of Repose or a wandering demon, we are all in danger. There are other ambassadors."

Adaar's dark eyes blazed. "Forget your post. Forget the fucking Inquisition. You're my friend first and my ambassador second, and I'm allowed to fret for your life."

It shouldn't have warmed her the way it did, but she felt herself begin to smile, anyway, a flush rising to her cheeks to replace the chill. She'd have been hard-pressed to stop it.

Maybe she remained unconvinced that Adaar felt any romantic affection for her, no matter how Leliana teased. A bit of harmless flirting sometimes, nothing more.

But there was affection. The warmth of it felt as magical as any cloudless day in Val Royeaux.

"Then by all means," Josephine said. "Fret away. But I am sure that I am safe, so long as I'm with you."

Adaar's eyes searched her face. If Josephine wasn't mistaken, her cheeks had darkened a little, too.

"I will make sure of it," Adaar said—low, ardent, a promise. It did terrible, wonderful things to Josephine's stomach.

Adaar cleared her throat and looked up, glancing carefully around the courtyard. Apparently satisfied with her findings, she removed her hands from Josephine's shoulders. Josephine missed the warmth of them, the steadying weight of them, immediately.

"Time to get back to Skyhold," Adaar said. "We can discuss the details of your plan on the way. Stick close."

As if she had to ask. Josephine walked at Adaar's side, arms occasionally brushing, and wished she could stick much closer than that.

Go to Chapter 2 -->

#josephine montilyet #inquisitor adaar #f!adaar x josephine #f!adaar/josephine #biowarefemslash #dragon age #inquisition #friends to lovers #developing relationship #mutual pining #class differences #universe writes #i have picked this fic up and put it down for approximately five years #finally got it to a place where i want to post the dang thing #weekly updates commencing

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ceciliasheplin · 4 years

Text

Master post for all my fics so far

I’ve put here most of the tags but not all, so please read them. My recurring themes are: Reylo is madly in love, Happy ending, Redemption/Healing of some sort. Let me know what you guys think!

Morpho Menelaus

Rated M, 1189 words, One-shot

📎https://archiveofourown.org/works/24635509

🏷 Modern AU, Grief/Mourning, Pinned Insects, Swearing, Butterflies, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst

Rey works at an insectarium and notices a recurring visitor at the butterfly exhibit.

This fic is the ao3 version of a twitter fic that I wrote for this prompt by @reylo_prompts:

"Ben and Rey work at a zoo Rey always finds Ben in the butterfly exhibit, he likes to go there when he’s sad."

Ever since the Roll-out came out, I’ve been in love with the butterflies, like many fellow Reylos, and couldn’t wait for them to show up in the fics. My headcanon is that the butterflies are a symbol of the love between father and son, so tragically broken apart (by cruel writers). I love this little fic. It makes me happy. It gives me closure and hope.

🦋🦋🦋

***

A Quick Death

Rated M, 2293 words, One-shot

📎https://archiveofourown.org/works/24563752

🏷 Canon Divergence, Post TLJ, Wounds, animal blood, Mention of death penalty, Forgiveness, Redemption

This is my contribution to a Prompt Gangbang event: “Rey finds Ben tied to a tree.”

I can’t write fix-it fics because TROS made canon so bad, there is no fixing it other than ignoring that piece of shit of a movie completely, in my opinion. So I divorced myself from that and live in denial ever since, never missing an opportunity of writing about what it should have been.

🌳🌳🌳

***

What Am I Here For?

Rated E, 25577 words, 16 chapters

📎https://archiveofourown.org/works/23903074/chapters/57471235

🏷 Modern AU, Breylo, Polyamory, Heavy Angst, Grief/Mourning, No Incest, Skywalker Family Drama, Loss of appetite, Consensual Infidelity, Internalized Prejudices, Domestic Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Threesome - F/M/M, Everyone Is Alive, No Pregnancy, No Kids

This is the Breylo version of this old prompt by @reylo_prompts: "When Ben is declared missing, and then presumed dead, his fiance, Rey, is heartbroken. He returns years later, only to find she didn't wait for him as she'd promised she would."

This is my favourite fic that I wrote. It features smut but it’s not a smut fic, I wanted to write something different this time. Also, I had a lot of grief to let out and needed to find a way for these characters to heal and find a happy ending, even after all they’ve been through. I poured my heart out writing this one. I’m still in love with my poly babies Rey, Ben and Kylo and always will be.

❤️💛💙

***

Smitten

Rated M, 16065 words, 8 Chapters

📎https://archiveofourown.org/works/23306047/chapters/55821535

🏷 Modern Setting, Angel Rey, Human Ben, Mild Smut, Loss of Virginity, Protected Sex, Family Drama, Fluff

Rey is an angel who falls to protect human Ben from demon Snoke. They fall in love while figuring out the truth about Ben's family.

Inspired by Diablo (the video game) mythos, but this fic is super fluffy. Listen, I just wanted a feral angel girl to protect SoftBoi Ben, okay? And fall in love and bone him along the way...

😇😇😇

***

Macrolepidoptera

Rated E, 3215 words, One-shot

📎https://archiveofourown.org/works/23588158

🏷 Modern, Mothlo, Porn with Feelings, Hurt/Comfort, Monsterfucking, Body Worship, Biting, Blood Play, Fluff and Angst, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dark fic

Rey runs after her Mothman to show him how much she loves him

MOTHLOOOO!!! I fell in love with Mothlo and had the urge to let the whole fandom know, haha. Really, this is about Kylo believing he’s worthy of love and Rey being true to herself. Another favourite, because I will always love those sweet monsters who are better than so many ‘nice guys’ we meet out there.

🖤🦋🖤

***

Ash & Blood

Rated E, 6596 words, One-shot

📎https://archiveofourown.org/works/22568317

🏷 Medieval, Dark fic, Murderous Lovers, Minor Character Death, Betrayal between friends, Violence, Kylo Ren is Not Nice, Rey is not nice, but they love each other

Bloodthirsty warrior Kylo Ren is betrayed by his men and must flee. He is helped by a mysterious woman and her friends. He joins forces with them to get his revenge.

My first dark fic. It was a gift for my wonderful friend. It was a lot of fun to write people being bad.

🗡🖤🔥

***

Heal

Rated T, 4379 words, One-shot

📎https://archiveofourown.org/works/22537060

🏷 Canon Divergence, Angst, Fluff, Kyber Crystals, Force Bond, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, Sharing a Bed, Visions

A few weeks after the Battle of Crait, the Force connects Rey and Ben again on several occasions as she is trying to heal the legacy saber's Kyber crystal.

Another gift for a Valentine’s Day exchange. When my giftee asked for soft romance and Rey touching Ben’s hair I rubbed my hands together and gave an evil laugh because it’s what I do best, haha. This is my first T rated fic and it’s very soft and cute.

💎💎💎

***

High Seas

Rated E, 19923, 10 chapters

📎https://archiveofourown.org/works/21640174/chapters/51602203

🏷 Pirate AU, Porn With Plot, Mention of Reyux, Infidelity Kink, Praise Kink, Light Dom/sub, Dom Kylo Ren, Sub Rey, Betrayal, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Name-Calling, Dirty Talk, Rough Sex, Period-Typical Sexism, Slut Shaming, Revenge Sex, Pirate Rey, Lovers to enemies to lovers, Mention of pregnancy at the very end of the epilogue

Rey is stuck in a loveless and sexless marriage. So she turns to the alluring Commander Kylo Ren to quench her thirst.

This is my dirtiest fic and I love it to death. I’m not the best smut writer in the world, but this porn was liberating to write. Also, I wanted to write Ben as not a Softboi this time, and Rey as someone a little more flawed than what I usually do. Horny Reylo at their best.

🏴‍☠️ 🌊

***

The Tide

Rated E, 14949 words, 6 chapters

📎https://archiveofourown.org/works/20658665/chapters/49060343

🏷 Canon Divergence, Slow Burn, Hurt/Comfort, Domestic Fluff, Angst, Eventual Smut, Mention of abuse, Kylo Ren Needs a Hug, Gardening, Spoiler for Kylo Ren comic, No Pregnancy, No Kids

This fic was based on a prompt from @reylo_prompts: “The Resistance catches Supreme Leader and decides on his execution. Rey promises that if they do that, the Jedi won't support their cause any longer. Nevertheless, they proceed. She leaves. Several years later, Palpatine's return prompts the Resistance to seek Rey out. They are shocked to find her peacefully living with very much alive Kylo in a cute cottage on an outer rim planet.”

In sharp contrast to the latter, this is mostly plot driven. I wanted to write about them falling in love gradually, facing who they really are and what happened in canon (I wrote this before TROS came out so some of my lines sound kinda funny now). Also, Leia and Ben have a chance to make things right here, something that will forever be missing in my heart.

🏡🌻🌏

***

The Dark Prince

Rated E, 38471 words, 17 chapters

📎https://archiveofourown.org/works/20739284/chapters/49274468

🏷 Fantasy AU, Slow Burn, Curses, Demons, Angst, Fluff, Smut, Attempt Self-Sacrifice, Battles

In a fantasy land, Rey, a Jedi Monk, travels across the land in the winter to end the war the First Order has been waging. There, she finds their great power being challenged by a small but brave group of dissidents, the Resistance, and also by something else. A demon who haunts the woods nearby and attacks those who dare to cross the forest.

This was my RFFA fic. I tried to create a world where the heroes would be able to fight and win by not fighting what they hate but saving what they love.

***

Something Beautiful

Rated E, 6186 words, One-shot

📎https://archiveofourown.org/works/20263963

🏷 Medieval AU, Arranged Marriage, Fluff, Angst, Smut, Loss of Virginity, Virgin Rey, Virgin Ben Solo, Gentle Sex

Rey begrudgingly agrees to marry her greatest enemy and fears her wedding night.

This fic was inspired by a prompt from @reylo_prompts: “Lord Ren forces orphan Rey to marry him. On their wedding night he refuses to take her because he wants her to be willing. Rey is both enraged and frustrated. She may hate him but she isn’t exactly opposed to being ravished by her husband.”

This is my most successful fic. I loved the idea of a character being so sure of something and then be proven wrong. It’s basically two dumb virgins figuring it all out, connecting deeply in the process. And I could never have a fic where Rey is a passive onlooker in her own life. She knows what she wants and she’s going to get it.

🏰🌕💞

***

The Balance

Rated E, 70382 words, 21 chapters

📎https://archiveofourown.org/works/17664236/chapters/41660696

🏷 Canonverse, Slow Burn, Eventual Smut, The Force Ships It, Softboi Ben, Rey is confident, Lightsabers, Force Bond, Kylo Ren Redemption

It has been a few months since the battle of Crait. Both sides are rushing to rebuild. Rey is getting stronger as a Jedi. Ben, however, is feeling unsure. They cannot forget about each other as dreams haunt them both. A series of events brings them together again.

Okay, this is my first fic... It’s bad... Like, really bad... I’m not disowning it but this is cringeworthy, even if I still love it and stand by some of my ideas. We all gotta start somewhere, right? Also, it’s better than TROS... 😘

⭐️⭐️⭐️

Big thanks to @leofgyth, @reylotrash711, @thehobbem and starcrossreylo for the betas and moodboards. I love you guys!

#reylo #reylo fanfic #reylo au #breylo #reylo fic #reylo prompt

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hiskillingjar · 5 years

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Gagging for It

Relationship: Strade/Reader Rating: Explicit Contains: Emetophilia, Drunk Sex, Vaginal Sex, DFAB Reader, Gender Neutral Pronouns, Canon-Typical Violence. Length: 5000+ words

Summary: Strade’s always wanted a drinking buddy. AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20101672

You wandered down to the basement out of boredom and a desire for attention that you weren’t going to receive from anyone else, shivering from the cold and trying to ignore the faint smell of aged, coppery blood that had yet to be hosed away. The door to the study (well, what else were you going to call it?) was slightly ajar, and you could hear the faint sound of the television and Strade's gruff laughter from the other room.

You nudged the door open with the tip of your foot and peered inside curiously.

Strade was watching one of his previous stream recordings, depicting a young male victim that you didn't recognize who seemed to be getting a knife to the eye. The scrape and crunch of the knife's edge hitting bone, followed by a piercing scream, made you grimace and quickly look away. Unsurprisingly, Strade was just laughing to himself though, a dark brown bottle in his hand, the rim gently resting on his smiling lips. A dense smell of cheap, greasy takeaway filled the study and a couple of beer bottles littered the coffee table in front of him, which meant he was probably drunk, or at least quickly on his way to it.

"Hey, buddy!" Strade called over to you, and you jumped at the sudden, unexpected sound of his voice. He seemed happy to see you, though he was always happy to see you, and he patted the space on the sofa next to him. "You wanna watch the rest of this with me? We haven't even gotten to the good parts yet."

You frowned a little at his morbid suggestion, though that didn't stop you from taking him up on his offer and sitting with him, legs crossed and bored eyes blinking at the television screen. The man's face was damp with tears, blood and intraocular fluid, the mess of shredded skin and eyeball taking up the majority of the screen, and the screaming was a bit off-putting, but you couldn't help but detach a little, seeing the brutal torture as if it were just a scene in a grindhouse flick or something, at least like the ones Strade showed you. That detachment made it a little easier to stomach, you supposed.

It made it easier to deal with.

"You got anything other than beer?" You asked him as he took another swig from his bottle.

"You liked beer the first night we met." He replied with a wry smile and a curious tilt of his head that you scoffed and rolled your eyes at.

"I liked you more." You said with a shrug.

"Cute." He chuckled, turning his attention back to the television screen. The knife in the man’s eye was now being used to drag his face closer to an erect, blood slicked cock, and you couldn’t help but be vaguely intrigued at where this would go. "But no, just beer. Got plenty of it, though you might struggle to keep up~" He finished the end of the sentence with a sing-song quality to his voice, and perhaps that might have unnerved you at the beginning of your captivity, but however many months in, it just made you grin at the concept of a challenge.

"Fuck you, old man, I can drink you under the table." You insisted, sitting up a little.

"Oh really?" He raised an eyebrow at you, and the look on his face is attractive in a way that set a shameful fire in the pit of your stomach. You nodded, attempting to swallow past the sudden spell of dry mouth and his easy smile split into a sharp-toothed grin. "Alright, you're on. Just have to grab some more bottles from the basement fridge." He stood to his feet, giving you the rest of his bottle. "But I'll give you the chance to catch up a little first, ja?"

The bastard knew how much him speaking German got to you.

You nodded again, a little dumbly, and he gave you a friendly pat on the shoulder with an easy smile before leaving the study to get more promised bottles.

Maybe he was just glad to have someone to drink with.

You can’t imagine that Ren would be a very good drinking buddy.

You curiously eyed the dark liquid in the bottle for a second, swilling it around, wondering for a second if he was using this opportunity just to roofie you, before you thought “fuck it” and threw it back like a shot. You immediately grimaced at the bitter taste and tried to fight back the desire to retch.

Even during your rowdier university years, where you must have been drunk most nights, you had hated beer because of the awful, bitte taste and how weak it often was. And while this particular brand was just as foul as any other, right now, you were desperate and you probably weren't going to find any other kind of alcohol in this house.

So you would take what you could get.

You opened another one of his bottles and drank from it while you waited for him to come back. Idly watching the torture-porn (though more porn than torture at this point) on the screen like you would a horror movie at a party.

It's halfway into the second bottle that you remember you hadn't touched alcohol in nearly four months.

Fuck.

You’re about six drinks in when you finally stop complaining about how bad the beer tasted.

“Eins, zwei, drei! Getränk!”

You tipped your head back and threw half of your (now) seventh drink down your gulping throat like it was barely any effort, using the one skill that you had perfected during university for its true purpose, while Strade drunkenly and loudly cheered you on in a slurred mixture of English and German.

You had no idea how many drinks he was on at that point, but the flush on his cheeks and his enthusiasm and affection towards you had grown exponentially within the last hour or so.

So you could only guess he was about as drunk as you were.

You kept chugging at your drink for about twenty more seconds before finally slamming the empty bottle on the coffee table and holding your arms up in victory, unbothered by the trickle of warm beer down your chin.

“What was that, forty seconds?” Strade said with a low whistle, patting you on the back as you hacked uncomfortably at the taste. “That’s pretty impressive, buddy!”

“Mate, your taste in beer is absolute shit.” You mumbled, wiping your chin with the back of your hand and falling back into the soft cushions of the sofa. The alcohol had put a pleasantly familiar haze on your brain, and you couldn’t help but let a delirious string of giggles fall from your lips between each sentence. “Next time we do this, we’re getting something decent, alright?”

“Ja, ja, of course.” Strade agreed with a nod, taking a heavy gulp from his own drink, though he seemed to enjoy it for more than you did. You liked that he agreed there would be a next time. That, at least, meant he wasn’t planning on killing you any time soon. “I just get what I can also find in Germany.”

“Well, Germany has shit taste in beer too then.” You replied with another giggle.

“What would you recommend?” He asked with a drunken smile, giving your shoulder a gentle nudge and affectionately pulling your heavy body to rest against his. He’s a lot more comfortable to lie against when he’s drunk, you thought.

“I dunno.” You mumbled, letting your head loll back against his soft stomach. “When I was in uni, I just drank everything I could get my hands on. If it had alcohol, I was there.”

“Mm, I’ll keep that in mind.” He said softly, resting his bottle near your head.

Even being as drunk as you were, you could still understand just how strange, if not disturbing this was. If someone saw you doing this, getting drunk, playing drinking games and singing songs, cuddling up to your captor, they'd think you were insane. And maybe you were a little, especially when you took such pleasure in being so close to him.

You let your head turn to face the television screen. His free hand drifted up to your ear and he gave your scalp a little scratch. It felt nice, and you keened against his touch with a sigh of pleasure.

In between the drinking chants and meaningless conversations, Strade had put another one of his tapes on in the background. This victim was a young woman, probably younger than you, with red hair and glasses. She was a little skinny but pretty looking in a subtle kind of way that you envied. A ring gag kept her mouth open while an off-camera Strade held an industrial-looking wood clamp to keep her tongue out. A familiar-looking drill whirred threateningly near her head, and she mumbled panicked pleas as it inched closer and closer to her drooling tongue.

You didn't look away. You didn't even blink.

"Were you going to do that to me?" You asked casually watching as blood and shredded muscle bubbled from the bloody wound and down her chin. The only off-putting thing was her sobbing, her screaming.

"I thought about it." He replied, just as casually and still scratching your scalp. Fingers subtly stroking through your hair. "But you made me feel something I hadn't before. It was..." He paused for a moment, looking for the right word.

"Interesting?" You offered.

"Compelling." He said instead as he took another drink from his bottle. "You intrigued me, and I wanted to see what else you could make me feel."

"Hm. Makes sense." You mumbled softly, letting your eyes drift shut as he kept petting your hair. The drunken haze on your brain made you enjoy his soft touches more than usual and filtered the screaming on-screen to be little more than background noise. A white fuzz in your fucked-up brain.

“But for what it’s worth.” He continued, and when you felt the brush of his lips against your ear, your body prickled with excitement, and the faintest hint of arousal burned a fire in the pit of your stomach. “Ich bin froh, dass ich dich behalten habe.”

You didn’t have the time to ask him what he said before you threw your arms around his neck and dragged him into a kiss.

And though his body stiffened with surprise for the first few seconds of your intense affection, he quickly acclimated to the kiss. Pressing his fingers into your hair and effortlessly shifting both of your bodies so that he was straddling your hips and looming over the top of you.

He tasted like the shitty beer you had been drinking all evening and an unidentifiable smoke flavour when his tongue pressed against yours, though you didn’t have the time to properly appreciate it when he was on top of you, pinning you down to the sofa, straddling your hips and pressing your groins together. Your clit was erect and aching underneath your thin shorts and had been for at least half the time you had been drinking with him, and even through the multiple barriers of fabric, you could feel how hard his cock was too.

Your mouth watered for it.

His level of intoxication made his kisses sloppy, too much saliva practically pooling down your chin, but for some sick reason, that just turned you on even more. His typical groping hands travelled up the front of your loose shirt, which had now been pushed up to your chin, kneading at your shuddering chest and toying with your piercings as he did it.

You managed to pull away from him for a breath which quickly turned into a sharp cry as he dipped his head and tongued at your nipples, taking the pert nub between his teeth and biting, hard. His hands went down to your hips and firmly groped your ass, pulling your body closer to his, trying to align your crotches together so he might give himself the stimulation he seemed so desperate for. His teeth teased the metal hoops as he took full advantage of just how sensitive the new piercings made you.

The rush of intense sensations, the pain and the pleasure, made you dizzy. All you could do was writhe underneath him, buck your hips and cry out as he kept biting, leaving more and more bites across your chest, claiming you for his own.

“Oh god, fuck!” You drawled with a needy whine. “Please-AH!” A bite on your collar bone made you cry out again. “Please, Strade, please…” Your begging words fell apart into a string of desperate whimpers. “Please, fuck me, I need it so fucking bad, please.”

“How can I refuse when you ask so nicely?~” He purred with a sick smirk, dragging his tongue over an especially bloody bruise that marked your skin.

He knelt up over you and roughly grabbed your hips, dragging your body down the sofa. He pushed a hand into his greasy hair with a breathless chuckle, looking down at you with an intense hunger burning in his amber eyes.

It’s so fucking attractive; you almost couldn’t stand it.

You hurriedly pulled down your shorts and flung them to the side of your tangled bodies. You parted your thighs with a subtle but desperate jut of your hips. Wordlessly offering your body to him to do with as he pleased, begging for it in body language alone. He looked at you like a piece of meat, a wolf about to descend on his prey, and you were the rabbit who was foolish enough to consent to their capture. You could see his mouth water as he gazed at your body, and it offered you a faint sense of power over him, though you know that won’t last long.

“Köstlich.” He mumbled, just loud enough for you to hear (and you knew what that one meant), licking his lips hungrily as his hands descended to your thighs. He ran an almost affectionate touch over the myriad of healing scars which drifted upwards with a harsh, red scratch towards the pre-cum smearing the inside of your thighs.

You tipped your head back with a hiss of pain, clenching your teeth and your eyes shut, but they quickly snapped open again with a wordless gasp when he easily pressed two fingers inside of you.

“Already so wet.” He said, his voice somewhat soft but deeply arousing, though that softness was counteracted by the rough grip he had on your thighs and a punishingly deep thrust with his thick fingers that made your cunt clench tightly around him and a desperate groan lurch out your throat. “So easy for me to take, liebling.”

“So take me.” You replied, a drunken and deeply aroused edge to your voice as you looked at him, eyes half-lidded and glazed over with pleasure. “I’m yours, so just...take me. Please.” Your own shaking breaths of pleasure matched up with the shuddering sobs of the girl on the television screen, and you couldn’t help but feel smug that you were alive and she was dead.

Because you were his, and he would never take someone else the way he did you.

He grinned fervently as he pressed a third finger inside of you, easily thrusting them in and out as the pad of his thumb teased your twinging clit. The burning pleasure made your brain race even more than the alcohol had, and you sat up to desperately fist his shirt, pulling it open and dragging it down his freckled shoulders as you caught his lips in a hungry kiss.

Strade accepted the kiss with an eager groan against your lips, deep and dangerous and so perfectly masculine, and he removed his fingers roughly, wiping them on his trouser leg to hurriedly yank his shirt off.

His black undershirt was sleeveless and showed off his muscled arms, perfectly defined from years of physical labour and strenuous activity. Your hands descended down his arms, indulgently relishing in his warm, tan skin and every swell of muscle, delicately tracing the tattoo on his left bicep. You allowed yourself some moments to marvel at his body, to properly enjoy just how handsome he was, as he unbuckled his belt and unzipped his trousers, tugging them down with his boxers and exposing his hard, weeping cock as it grazed against your thigh.

He bit your lower lip and tugged at it, letting out an eager growl before he pressed his tongue between your lips and pushed himself deep inside your tight heat.

Drunk sex was different from sober sex in a myriad of ways.

Already you could tell that drunk sex was faster, more erratic and less thoughtful, but surprisingly, a lot less painful. Drunk sex was for a single satisfaction, after all, while sober sex had to scratch every one of Strade's itches. And if one of those itches was sadistically inclined, that would have to be thoroughly scratched.

It’s very similar too, of course.

He was as rough with you as ever, forcing your legs to your chest as he pushed deeper into you, barely giving you room to think about each sensation. One strong hand drifting to your neck so he could see you struggle to breathe, could watch you gasp on his name, your begs and pleas for more. Mumbling slurred praise and violent dirty talk in between thrusts and drunken hiccups.

But there wasn't a knife waiting to be pulled out, no video cameras blinking in the corner, no twisted mind games or broken promises.

It was just the two of you, taking advantage of one another, in a frenzy of arousal and desperation.

You thought that idea fit you both perfectly.

With a particularly ruthless thrust, he had buried himself deep inside you when a barely-there heave slipped from his lips, between the drunken hiccups and slurs of English and German. You opened your eyes to see that his thrusting had stilled and he had allowed his head to hang slightly, his long, tangling hair covering his sweating face.

"Strade..." You managed to say. "You okay?"

"'S just gas escaping..." He mumbled though he didn't sound very sure of himself.

Then he heaved again, which was followed by a retch and a barely suppressed burp that made his entire body shudder. A hand quickly went up to his face as he retched again, a strange noise of nervous apprehension at the back of his throat falling from his lips before he had the chance to notice. It’s a weirdly vulnerable gesture and sound from him and you can’t deny that it’s appealing in a sadistic kind of way. It was at that point that you attempted to sit up, and ask what was wrong again.

You couldn't even blink before he vomited down your front.

You managed a disgusted shout of outrage as you attempted to wriggle away from him, though his hold on your body was as firm as ever. The vomit was thick and almost heavy, both in sensation and scent, since it smelled of fowl beer and half-digested take out. The greasy feel of it clung to your skin and despite how still you were trying to be, it dripped down every sensitive area of your body and each of your shuddering curves.

You cringed, looking down at your shaking stomach now painted in puke, trying to suppress the urge to vomit yourself.

"Ha!" Strade's bark-like laugh snapped you out of your disgust momentarily, and you looked up to see a typical sharp-toothed grin spread on his face, any kind of vulnerability he’d had before quickly shaken off. Though this grin was smeared with vomit, and a vile string of bile and thick saliva trailed down his stubbly chin and to his hairy chest. You had no idea how he could stand something so disgusting. "Can't say I've ever done that before."

“Let me up." You said firmly, glaring at him, though all he did was smirk at your anger and rock his hips a little, pressing himself deeper inside of you, since he was still as hard as he was before, for whatever reason. It felt good, of course it did, but that didn't get rid of the fact that you were still absolutely covered in his vomit. "S-Strade, I mean it." Your voice had lost a bit of its edge though, and your quivering lip wasn’t going to be intimidating anyone soon.

"Ah, liebling~" Strade drawled drunkenly in an almost affectionate way, bringing his flushed face close to yours. You could smell the sour scent of sick on his breath and it made your stomach clench. "All the things I've done to you. All the times I’ve made you scream, made you bleed...and this is where you draw the line?" He grinned again and the vomit-saliva mix on his chin dripped down your chest, making your body lurch underneath his. He chuckled at the outraged look you gave him, and the hand now slick with vomit and drool came up to roughly cup your chin, squeezing your cheeks and keeping your head still as he brought his face closer. "No, I don't think so."

He kissed you hard, his tongue immediately pressing between your lips, and you're forced to taste the vile, acidic remnants of bile and vomit on his lips, his tongue. You squirmed and wriggled underneath him, trying to shove him away, but your refusal and the way you fought back against him seemed to only excite him more, as he started to thrust in and out of you again, with a new kind of vigour.

The combined sensation of the crushing kiss and his tongue in your mouth, and the aching stretch of your cunt around his thick cock made you moan involuntarily against his lips. You could hear every one of his pleased sounds too, as he fucked into you harder, pressing your chests together and coating himself in his own vomit.

It’s fucked up. It’s so fucked up, but you can’t deny how arousing it is knowing that he’d fuck you, even when you were covered in vomit and when you smelled like shit.

You could feel your cunt clench tight around him as the burning shame in the pit of your stomach made you moan even louder against his kiss. Your eyes rolled back into your skull, and, dizzy with sickening pleasure, you allowed yourself to press your fingers into his tangling hair and let him fuck you as he wanted.

It’s sick. He’s sick. But you’re so much worse for wanting it so bad that it ached.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, digging your clenching toes into his back, and his hands go down to roughly grope your hips. He scratched deep, red lines down your skin as he bit at your lips, so hard that you could taste the blood from your split lip coating both of your tongues. You wonder, for maybe a second, if Strade had plans to cover you in any more of his fluids, but the shameful twinge that idea gave to your clit quickly puts it out of your mind.

One fucked up fetish at a time.

The sickly, sour smell of Strade’s vomit now permeated the room, so much so that it was almost tangible, much like the continued screams of the stranger on the television that seemed to perfectly align with both of your shuddering moans and gasps. You’re sure that the Pavlovian link between sex and violence for you had its roots in something fucked up and Freudian, but when you were half-drunk, stuffed with cock and covered in the vomit of a man you should have hated but probably loved, you couldn’t really examine why you were so aroused that it was causing you actual, physical pain.

Strade pulled away from the kiss momentarily, drooling a vile mixture of blood, bile and saliva over your gasping lips with a slack tongue and a dangerously eager look in his eyes. Just looking at him do it was enough for you to clench tighter around him, your greedy cunt taking his cock like it was what you were born to do, but seeing his eyes roll back in pleasure, his jaw drop and the shaking moan fall from his lips is what pushed you even closer towards your edge.

You dug your sharp nails into his shoulders and dragged them down his back, underneath his undershirt, listening to his hiss of pain. His skin was so warm, even slightly damp with sweat, and the reminder that he was there, that you could touch him, that he chose you over everyone else was so overwhelming that you had to bury your face into his shoulder to stop yourself from drunken admissions of love.

The pain you inflicted seemed to have only encourage to fuck you harder, faster, and deeper. He groped your ass hard, digging his fingers into the soft flesh, before he effortlessly pulled you into his lap so that you were kneeling over him, riding his cock as he fucked into you. You matched his jutting hips by pressing down on him, gasping and swearing into the crook of his shoulder as you got closer and closer to climax. Coagulating vomit dripped down your stomach and into his lap, staining his trousers, and you couldn’t help but be a little satisfied that he was now as messy as you were.

“So good, so good…” You mumbled like a mantra against Strade’s lips. He brought your foreheads together, a sticky hand reaching up to cup your cheek.

“Open your mouth.” He ordered you with a slick smirk.

You did as you were told, and he immediately pressed two fingers down your throat, with a roughness that immediatly makes you heave. When you tried to pull back from him, he gripped your hair with his free hand and keeps your head still with a (frankly) arousing amount of strength. He pressed his fingers further, against your tongue, the back of your throat, your bobbing tonsils, and whispered words of encouragement through a kind smile.

You tried, desperately, to swallow around his fingers, blinking streaming tears out of your eyes, and filling the room with disgusting heaves and retches. But it’s only another minute or so of uncomfortable gagging before you’re vomiting down his front, staining his skin like he had done to you. A thick string of saliva and bile hung from your lips, and the sight of it was enough to make you puke again.

“Ah…wunderschönen~” A manic smile came to his face as he continued to breathlessly fuck into your shaking, sweating body, his smile only getting wider as he listened to your heaving sobs, your whimpers and whines for a moment to adjust and breath that he wasn’t going to give you. But for some reason, neither your discomfort or the sudden wave of nausea and dizziness that washed over your brain did anything to diminish your own aching arousal, and you felt yourself clench even tighter around his pounding cock.

“Finish inside me.” You mumbled feverishly, letting your head droop down and rest your forehead against his, and it feels even better when he lets you have that ounce of affection. “Please. Want it. Want it so fucking bad...”

“So filthy, liebling.” He crooned, in a way that’s almost comforting, and you couldn’t help the delirious little giggle that slipped from your lips as a response. If he thought that was filthy, what did he think about the two of you spewing your guts all over each other? Maybe that’s what affection was to him. “But if that’s what you want…”

He gripped your thighs roughly, pressing himself deeper inside of you and filling you with a few final rough thrusts that you attempted to move in time with, though to little success. Your drunken body seemed to have finally caught up with your mind, so you could mostly just cling onto him as he fucked you sloppily like a well-used sex doll, using your aching, stretched hole however he pleased.

Shit, even that fucked up train of thought was making your clit twinge. You doubted that you would need any help getting off when your brain was still so active.

He tensed up a little underneath you, enough that it was noticeable, but he quickly buried his face into your shoulder before you questioned it. Harshly biting down on the flesh in an attempt to suppress a throaty (and incredibly attractive) groan as he came inside of you, claiming your insides like he had claimed your outside. The feeling of him filling you so beautifully distracted you from the burning pain of the bleeding bite on your shoulder.

Funnily, it’s when he slowly pulled out of you, running a teasing finger over your burning clit and so easily sliding it inside of your cunt, plugging you full of the cum that was already leaking out of you, that you finally reach climax yourself. An arched back, a gasp of his name, your nails dug deep into his shoulders and back.

And then the entire fucked-up affair was over.

The two of you inelegantly detangle from each other and fall back onto the sofa together, mostly naked, sweaty and covered in more of each other’s bodily fluids than you ever wanted to be.

“I knew you were interesting,” Strade mumbled breathlessly with a low chuckle, stroking through your hair affectionately.

“I thought I was compelling.” You replied with your own huffed laugh, keening up against his touch.

“Intriguing.” He offered instead with a smirk. “At least I know why I kept you now.”

You’d take that.

You curled up against him, desperate for his attention, and he pulled you into his arms, resting his stubbly chin against your head and pressing his nose into your sweaty hair. It's almost a kiss. He mumbled sweet words to you, so quiet that you can barely hear him over your own heaving breaths, and you drifted off into an easy slumber to the sound of his voice, totally enveloped in him.

You couldn’t imagine anything more perfect.

#boyfriend to death #strade btd #strade x reader #btd #ray's fics #imma be real with you chief this is 100% self insert #but hey it can be for readers too #whatever you want chief i got u #i NEEDED to write this and i'm questioning why i did it now

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ankhlesbian · 5 years

Text

FEFemlash February - Day 2 - flower crowns

Game: FE Three Houses

Pairing: Leonie/Hilda

Rating/Length: T for canon-typical violence, ~1.5k words

Leonie and Hilda are sent to collect plants for the Professor. It's an easy enough task... until it isn't. Fodlan really could use less plot-convenient bandits.

Hilda groaned. For the fifth time in the last twenty minutes alone. Leonie had lost count of how many times she’d heard that in the past hour that they’d been on the road together. It had been funny the first time, but now Leonie was just sick of it.

“Hey, no one’s forcing you to come along. Feel free to go ahead and turn back if you’re just gonna be sour company.”

“Actually, I am being forced. Professor Byleth found out about all the weekly chores I wasn’t doing. It was this or shoveling pegasus dung.” Hilda sighed dramatically, taking one hand off the reins to wipe at her forehead.

“Good to know you like me more than pegasus poop,” Leone replied dryly.

“Well, I thought I’d be able to sleep on the way, which is why I chose this. But the road’s way too bumpy!”

“You can have a nap before we head back. After you help me gather the flowers the Professor wants.” Leonie patted the side-pouch she’d tucked the alarmingly lengthy parchment into.

“I swear they made up that list just to punish us. There’s no way one person needs all those useless flowers. They’re pretty sure, but we have most of those in the Greenhouse. This is a waste of time.”

“I think I saw some poisonous ones on here. Too dangerous to just keep in a public space.”

Hilda squawked in disbelief. “Were they gonna warn us?”

“They did. I even have gloves.” Leonie stared her down until Hilda averted her gaze with another groan. Leonie knew Hilda didn’t hate doing anything. Leonie was wearing a charm Hilda had made for her, all of her own volition. She supposed it made sense to only want to put effort into things you were interested in. It just seemed pointless of Hilda to come all the way to Garreg Mach if training, let alone fighting, wasn’t one of those interests.

She would never say it in front of Hilda, but Leonie was also a bit miffed at being asked to run errands an hour away from the monastery. Sure, knowing some common harmful and helpful plants was a good survival skill to have, but picking a bunch of random flowers didn’t exactly seem relevant to any kind of training. Training to be a florist, maybe.

But at least it was an excuse to get to ride. She gave her mount a friendly pat on the neck. “It’s fun to stretch your legs to some new scenery, huh?”

“I bet my horse would rather be napping. I’m sorry, poor girl, the Professor’s a big meanie.” Hilda cooed.

Leonie elected to let that comment slide, lest she get drawn into another circular argument. They were close enough now that she didn’t need the distraction.

They found themselves, appropriately, in a large meadow. One of the edges bordered the damp ground of a swamp, which was where Leonie suspected the more dubious plants would be growing.

“I call not the muddy side,” Hilda made a face. Leonie rolled her eyes, but let out a little huff of amusement. She hadn’t expected any less.

“We’ll make it fair.” Leonie pulled out their list and ripped it cleanly in half, handing Hilda her portion along with a pair of gloves. “Don’t slack. I’ll be watching!”

“Yeah, yeah, the sooner I finish the sooner I can be back in my room, you know.”

Fair enough. Leonie would leave her to it, then. She focused on her own tasks. All the swampy flowers were on her list, so she opted to gather those first. Give the muck some time to try before she put her feet anywhere near her horse.

It was a cloudy day, so the sun wasn’t as merciless as it could’ve been. But, it was still late spring-time, still hot enough to make Leonie crave some water like nothing else, though. It’d be a reward for when she was halfway done.

On her way to retrieve her flask from her horse, she snuck a peek over at Hilda. She was crouched down, diligently plucking flowers. And… weaving them together.

“Hilda!” She turned to face her fully, hands on her hips. Couldn’t that wait ‘til they were done?

Hilda looked up, face poised to argue, and then her eyes widened. “Leonie! Behind you!”

And then Leonie felt an arrow dig into her shoulder, sending her staggering forward. She caught herself before she fell, whirling around to keep herself between the enemy and Hilda as she drew her bow. Her bow and quiver were slung over her back, and they had managed to block most of the impact, so she could still shoot.

Well, she’d shoot if she could see anyone. She heard Hilda scrambling to her feet behind her. Had she packed a weapon?

“Bandits?”

“What do you want? Come out and face us!”

The forest around them was silent, and then came three more arrows, released too quickly together to be from just one person. Leonie swore and ducked, hoping Hilda was doing the same.

There were no more arrows, but there was squelching. They’d been hiding in the swamp?

“Yer students of Garreg Mach, aren’t ya?” Of the three ruffians who emerged, this one was clearly the leader. They were all dressed in drab clothes, covered in various stains and tears, but this guy was the largest, and he had the most impressive weapon. A large, silver axe, untarnished. He must’ve acquired it recently for it to be in such good condition.

“And what about it?” Leonie kept her bow trained right on the boss’ forehead, more as a threat than anything. She didn’t want go straight to lethal shots. She’d be faster than either of his two lackeys. Or else they were both toast. Leonie had brought her lance, but it was on her horse’s saddle. No chance to grab it now.

“Lots of children of nobles. Bet yer family’s would pay a pretty ransom for yer safe return.”

“There’s commoners there, too. You’re looking at one.” There really wasn’t any way to pass Hilda off as a commoner, though. And even this guy was smart enough to know it.

“Get them!”

Leonie let her arrows fly, going for the uncovered parts of the sidekicks. One arrow pierced right into his knee, sending him tumbling to the ground. It wouldn’t be a deep hit, but it would help. She got the other grunt in the shoulder (hah! payback!), and then he was on her, sword drawn.

She deflected the first hit with the metal limb of her bow, stepping backwards she went. If she could just get to her horse—

Except, the boss had gone to the side and was right behind her. Her only warning was the sound of metal whooshing through the air. She twisted at the last second, and instead of having her head chopped off, the axe tore through her collarbone and chest. And now her back was exposed to the other man’s sword.

“HIYAH!”

The head of a lance appeared inches from Leonie’s side, sticking straight through the stomach of the lackey. The boss jumped back as Leonie fell to one knee, clutching her wound. Hilda withdrew the lance, whirling it menacingly as she stepped in front of Leonie.

“I was already sweaty, and now look. Why didn’t you guys just mind your own business?”

The lance had a disadvantage at such close range, especially with Leonie in the way. She fumbled for her bow. It was dented, but she could still help. He went for a hefty swing, feet planted firm, that Hilda deftly caught, lance held horizontal across her face. He had left himself wide open. Leonie fired, right at the radial nerve. The man grunted as his hand involuntarily flexed, his grip on the axe loosened. So of course Hilda jerked the lance up, tearing his weapon from his hands.

“I’ll be taking this. Leonie, catch.” Hilda tossed the lance away with one hand, smugly catching the axe with the other. Leonie smiled weakly through her pain, groping for the lance and using it to stand herself back up as Hilda finished off the two remaining foes. Unfortunate, that such a peaceful day had come to that. But she supposed the mercenary life wouldn’t really be any better. Better to get used to it now.

“Hey, are you okay?” Hilda was frowning, right in front of Leonie now, peering at her wound. “I don’t know any of that first aid stuff.”

The ache was fading now, and the bleeding had mostly stopped. “It looks worse than it is,” Leonie assured her, taking a moment to retrieve her jacket from her waist and press it to her chest. “Oh- oh no!”

Hilda looked around. “What? What?”

“I- it’s silly. But I was wearing that charm you made for me. I, uh, think it got caught in the crossfire. Your hard work’s been wasted.” she said mournfully. It didn’t have the same rustic appeal to it that Geralt’s did, but it had still been a thoughtful gift from a friend. A friend she’d spent all day arguing with. “I’m sorry.”

Hilda gaped, hands fluttering up to help hold Leonie’s compress. “I can make another one. A better one. There’s plenty of good material here. What do you think I was collecting extras for? Just shut up for now.”

Maybe she’d lost more blood than she’d thought. She let herself be man-handled back towards her horse, wound now thoroughly wrapped.

“The Professor can come get the rest themself if this is what’s going to happen,” Hilda grumbled. “You! You’re not getting this kind of effort out of me again, so you better savor it. My gentle, tender, nurturing touch. And.. don’t die. I’m making you an even better charm. This one will bring good luck. And be made of stronger materials.” And then Hilda sighed, and pressed a kiss to Leonie’s cheek.

Her face went warm. So she still had some blood left after all. “No dying. Got it.” How could she, knowing what she had to look forward to? It’d be a waste.

#leonie pinelli #hilda valentine goneril #hildeonie #femslash february #it writes #fe16 #fe3h

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bookdancerfics · 5 years

Text

Corpses Don’t Bleed

a Clint Barton Bingo fill, @clintbartonbingo

Square: Barney Barton (O4) Warnings: Canon-Typical Violence, Swearing Pairing: N/A, gen Rated T Word Count: ~1700 words Series: Part 1 of Clint Barton Bingo 2019

Summary: It’s been a while since Barney had to defend his kid brother from bullies, but that doesn’t mean he’s forgotten how to do it.

Additional Tags: Hurt Clint Barton, Reluctantly Protective Barney Barton, Barney’s POV, rated T for the Bartons’ full swear jar, i know it’s Barney’s pov but it’s also, Clint Barton-centric, Barney would never admit it but he loves his little bro, Hurt/Comfort, Deaf Clint Barton, Canon Disabled Character, takes place at an undisclosed time in the universe but Clint is already an Avenger

AO3, ff.net

In the end there were a few things that came together to make sure that Barney was where he was when shit went down.

One, he was supposed to be pulling a retrieval job for Wilson Fisk, arguably the most powerful crime lord in the five boroughs. The object, a multi-billion dollar painting, had gone missing the day before he planned to take it.

Two, a few years back Barney had screwed over his work partner and escaped with more than a few thousand dollars in cash. Said work partner, a man by the name of Tommy Devlin, had been after Barney ever since. There was no such as thing as thickness between thieves when one had stolen from the other.

Three, Barney had shit luck, and he needed to stop listening to men named Tommy Devlin when they said they were holding the thing he cared for most hostage.

Barney stepped into the world’s darkest alley, sparing one glance up to the broken streetlight. The glass was cracked, and dirty, but his family was known for their good eyes, and he was pretty sure that was a bullet hole in the glass.

He turned back to the showdown at the other end of the alley. Tommy Devlin stood beneath a fire escape, hidden in darkness, but nothing could disguise the outline of a handgun held against another man’s head.

“Still not over the cliché’s, huh, Devlin?” Barney called. “And for the record, I don’t care for my brother.”

Said brother, the one with a gun to his head, had obviously been tied to a chair in front of Devlin, but although it didn’t look like he was unconscious, he still didn’t react.

Despite himself and his own words, Barney frowned. If there was anything he knew about his brother besides the whole Avengers thing, it was that he had a smart mouth that never knew when to shut up.

“And you’re sure of that?” Devlin called.

Barney only snorted. “Duh. Haven’t talked to the kid in months. Haven’t seen him for longer than that. Now, if you’ll excuse me—”

He turned to leave, prepared to let the Avengers handle the rescuing this time around. Clint could, and would, hang on till then. Barney didn’t need to get himself killed saving his brother when professionals were on the way. All the same, he instinctively kept his guard up toward Devlin, and in that same moment the gun rang out and shrapnel sprayed from the brick next to his head. Barney ducked, covering his face with his arms even as he spun to face Devlin. Fury burned in his chest, and he could practically feel his face turn red, heat overtaking him as his anger bloomed. At the other end of the alley, Clint was finally moving, squirming against the bonds holding him in place even as he shouted obscenities. Whether they were for Devlin or Barney himself, Barney didn’t know.

“I didn’t say you could leave,” Devlin called. “I imagine you’d at least be interested in this?”

A light clicked on, Devlin deftly handling a flashlight along with the gun. The light shone past Clint to illuminate the very painting Barney had been tasked to retrieve.

He cursed under his breath. Although he was all for leaving his brother to be rescued by the Avengers when they finally came looking, he couldn’t very well leave the painting in Devlin’s hands. He had been small time when Barney bailed two years before, a major part of why Barney left him behind in the first place. But judging by the state of things, he’d obviously found his guts since then. If Barney wanted to get out of his next meeting with Fisk with his head still on his shoulders, he needed that painting.

It leaned against the apartment building behind it, and as Barney eyed it he was also reminded of their proximity to people, as well as the gunshot that had gone off barely a minute before. Someone must have called the police… Barney had to retrieve the painting, and he needed to do it then and there.

“Alright,” Barney called, turning to properly face Devlin. He palmed the knife tucked against his low middle back. “What do you want?”

For the first time, Devlin’s face twisted. “What do you think? I want my money back, Barton.”

“Okay,” Barney said. “I can do that. Just give me the painting, and I can get the money to you at an arranged time and place after this…”

Devlin brought the gun back to Clint’s head. “You’re lying.”

Barney snorted. “Yeah, Devlin, sure. I’m fucking lying. I may be a Barton, but I’m not that stupid. You don’t cross Wilson Fisk. You give me the painting, I get to keep my head, you get your money back.”

Sirens sounded in the background, and Devlin jerked, the mouth of the gun bumping into Clint’s ear. Clint growled something that sounded suspiciously like fuck off, but Devlin obviously wasn’t listening, as he dropped the flashlight in favor of pulling another gun out to point at Barney.

“You called the cops?!” Devlin yelled.

“What?” Barney asked. “No, are you stupid? You shot at me without a silencer, of course cops are gonna show up. Now give me the fucking painting and —”

Devlin fired the gun, or both of them, Barney didn’t know, and he didn’t plan on sticking around long enough to find out. He had to actually be alive to care about Fisk taking his head off. He dove for refuge behind a dumpster and his side collided with the brick apartment wall painfully, but a quick body check confirmed he hadn’t been hit by a bullet.

As the gunshots’ echo faded, Clint’s voice stormed in, loud as he yelled. His words slurred a little, most likely because of a concussion.

“— let me go home, man, I just want to sleep!” Clint said, and Barney couldn’t help but snort. That was his baby brother, all right.

Barney glanced around the edge of the dumpster to see Devlin with his back to him, collecting the painting and flashlight. Barney could only see one gun in his hands. Clint was still complaining, steadily growing louder even as he wobbled in the chair.

Six stories up, a light blinked on, and Devlin froze. Yet another reason Barney had left him behind, but Barney could appreciate the bad habit helping him out. He threw himself forward, racing to the other end of the alley, and Devlin unfroze.

Light glinted across a puddle next to Clint’s chair.

Barney took a mis-step.

He fumbled, got his feet together, but his gaze was still on that puddle and even running it took him too damn long to get to the chair.

Devlin turned; Barney was so close he could see his eyes grow wide. The gun came up.

Even in the dark, Barney could see a drop land in that damned puddle. It was red, a puddle should never be red but this one was and Barney knew if he tracked the drop’s path he would find a similarly colored stain on his kid brother. He didn’t know where he would find it, but somehow that didn’t matter.

All that mattered was that Clint kept breathing, and corpses didn’t bleed. They didn’t yell insults at the men who shot them, either, and Barney almost wished he could pay attention to what Clint was calling Devlin, if for nothing else but good fodder for another time.

Barney dove for the gun.

He collided with Devlin just as another gunshot sounded, impossibly loud next to his ears, but his shoulder dug into Devlin’s gut and they both went down hard. Something cracked on the pavement, and Barney really hoped it wasn’t himself.

He shook his head, trying to clear it even as he sat up. He was just focusing on the blood pooling under Devlin’s head when Clint’s voice filtered back in.

“— never told me you played football. Was that before or after the circus? Little league or pickup games at Villains r Us?”

Barney rolled his eyes. “Football doesn’t have little league, genius. And I’m not saying I need a thank you, but a little acknowledgement wouldn’t hurt.”

“Say something maybe?” Clint asked, and Barney finally turned to look at him, ready to snap before he noticed the lack of purple in Clint’s ears. No hearing aids; either Devlin had taken them or Clint had been grabbed without them.

Barney lifted his hands and, although it had been years, managed to haltingly sign out what he had said.

“Oh, right,” Clint said, and Barney frowned. “Thank you so much for abandoning me for the wonderful life of a thief. How could I ever repay you.”

“Stop bitching,” Barney told him, signing in sharp strokes. He thumbed Clint’s cheekbone roughly, eyeing the black eye he could already see forming. “Where’d he hit you?”

Clint snorted. “You mean the first time or the fifth?”

Barney shot him a look.

“The thigh, shouldn’t kill me.”

Barney pulled the knife from its holster and swiftly cut through the ropes tying Clint to the chair. As Clint rubbed his hands together and Barney poked at the bullet wound, the police sirens grew even louder. They would reach them in less than a minute.

Clint pressed down on his own wound, this time giving Barney a look.

“Go on,” Clint said.

“What?” Barney asked, lifting his hands, palms up, even as he emphasized his confusion.

“You can’t be here.” Clint gave him a weak grin. “I can’t hear the sirens clearly, but they’re there, and that means they’re close. The police are coming, and you know it.”

Barney glanced toward the sound of the sirens, then back at Clint.

“There’s an exit wound,” he signed. “Keep pressure on it.”

Clint nodded exaggeratingly. “I know, I know, now go.”

“Give me a head start,” Barney continued. He grabbed the painting in his left hand, leaving his right free for the last one-handed sign. “See you.”

He turned, ready to walk away, when Clint spoke up again.

“Barney, hey… thanks.”

Without even turning around, Barney flicked his middle finger up, then jogged from the alley. He had a painting to deliver to Wilson Fisk.

#clintbartonbingo #clint barton bingo #clint barton #barney barton #avengers #avengers fanfiction #avengers fic #superheroes #my fic #mine

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mi6-cafe · 6 years

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The second week of writing for LDWS participants has come to a close. Now it’s time for the next bit of the competition: reading and voting!

prompt: “just one shot” Word count: 200 Challenge: use only seven paragraphs

Voters–after you read, check out this form to vote for your top three drabbles! You can also leave anonymous feedback for the writers!

Who can vote? Anyone who’s read the drabbles! Yes, that includes YOU!

Writers–you may also vote, but we do ask that you vote for three drabbles other than your own.

The voting period ends at 11:59 PM EST on Sunday night. Results will be posted and anonymous feedback will be emailed on Monday.

Remember, readers–it’s up to YOU to decide who will wind up on top at the end of the competition!

Drabbles are under the read-more:

Title: Easy Shot

Author: kiddohno

Warnings: Drinking/Alcohol

Summary: James watches over a drunk Q.

It had been a slippery slope.

Q had agreed to just one shot. One, he’d said, and that’s it. James had waved the bartender over, ordered something sweet that would go down easy. So easy, that Q had acquiesced to a second, third, fourth… While James had nursed a single martini, quickly sensing that one of them would have to keep their wits.

James then watched, amused, as Q had gone from drinking to dancing. Energetically and enthusiastically making his way around the club, movements somehow both wild and graceful. While he drew plenty of attention, he politely declined any approach, allowing only brief conversations that James couldn’t hear over the loud beat of the music.

When Q eventually made his way back to the bar to order another shot, he was also determined to get the agent to dance with him.

“You’re drunk,” James had observed while Q threw back the shot.

“Hmm,” Q’d agreed as he plucked the stick of olives from James’ martini. In one deft movement he’d brought them to his mouth and pulled them off, eyes on James. “Absolutely.”

James finished the martini in one go, and let himself be led out onto the floor.

Title: Consequences Author: IrishWitch58 Warnings: canon typical violence Summary: Q is injured and Bond responds in kind

Just one shot started this, leaving Q lying in a hospital bed with machines and monitors. Surgery had stabilized him but now the doctors were just waiting for his own body to catch up and start healing the damage.

Bond was not waiting. He touched one pale hand briefly, and turned on his heel, leaving the hospital room to the sigh and beep of the machines.

Q's second was competent, professional and as angry at the attack as Bond was. R had used facial recognition software to follow the gunman. “We think he's gone to ground. He hasn't left the country.” She handed over a file with pictures. “This is what we know about him.”

The file and an unregistered weapon rested in the passenger seat. Bond eyed the closed petrol station sure his target was inside. Bond could wait now, the patient repose of a predator.

There was a stir at the back door. A figure in a black cap and denim jacket stepped out, glancing around nervously.

Bond raised the pistol and called the name on the file. A startled face turned, eyes wide. A hand made a futile grab for a weapon.

Just one shot ended it.

Title: Realization Author: sunaddicted Rating: T Warnings: canon violence Summary: one moment - that's all it takes

Q could barely believe how a moment had so suddenly changed his priorities: as he watched 007 fall, blood blooming worryingly bright against the white of his shirt, he couldn't help wondering about why he had rejected James again and again - afraid of something happening to him and being left alone.

It hadn't changed the fact that Q loved him - it had only been a waste of time.

Q dropped to his knees and unceremoniously dragged 007 behind a corner, his heartbeat barely slowing down when he felt the other's chest rise and fall under his fingers as he grabbed his Walter; he could have easily hacked it, if he had had at least his mobile on hand - as critical as the situation was, though, Q put the gun in James' hand "Can you shoot propped up against me?"

"It's n-not... ideal"

Q forced himself to ignore the blood that coated James' lips "I asked you if you can do it - not if it's ideal"

"Bossy" James coughed up a chuckle as Q moved him around "Anything you need, my dear Quartermaster"

"Just one shot" Q reassured, entwining their fingers together around the grip of the gun, ready to shoot.

Title: Qustom Made

Author: Venstar

Warnings: None

Summary: a leap of faith.

He was standing on a precipice, the world seemed to disappear below him. Bond glanced up at the night sky, the stars winked at him through the passing storm clouds. Water dripped from his face and bespoke suit as he calmly considered his options.

A voice, soft, posh and very threatening crackled to life in his ear. “Tick, tock, Mr. Bond. Tick tock. Time waits for no man.”

A wry smile pulled at Bond’s lips and thought back to the trio of movies Q had forced him to watch months ago when he had discovered Bond hadn’t understood what my precious meant during one of their lazy lie-ins. “I am no man.”

The voice laughed in response. It was broken up by static. “Very clever, now move your arse. You’ve got just one shot at this. Make it count.”

Bond considered the height that he was about to drop from. “Just like threading a needle, Q.” He adjusted his stance and bent his knees.

A snort came over the line. “Do you sew Mr. Bond?”

“All my suits are Qustom made,” Bond said as he leaped. A delicate, black parachute unfolded from his jacket with the tug of a cufflink.

Title: Shots Author: ato Warnings: none Summary: Q receives an unexpected invitation...

“C’mon, Q. Just one shot.”

Q’s surprised Bond would forego his usual elegant cocktails. After a moment’s hesitation, he nods and claims the last open barstool in the noisy pub. With a smirk, Bond holds two fingers up to the barkeep, quirking an eyebrow at Q, who points to the scotch on the top shelf. It turns out to be very good, and they don’t stop at one.

Hours later, lying on his stomach with the sheets pooled around his waist, completely shagged out and grinning, Q notices James fiddling with his phone.

“Oh, no. No photographic evidence of this encounter. You’re smug enough.”

“Just one shot,” James insists, leaning over Q and kissing his neck. “Just here... the nape of your neck and this curl I keep playing with and this mole. No one else will know it’s you. For when I’m on mission.”

Q buries his face in the pillow, and the shutter clicks.

Days later, a worried Q listens on as James gets himself cornered and reduced to one bullet. Still, James insists he has everything he needs. Just one shot. He’s soon home with an empty clip, a mischievous grin, and a bottle of foreign scotch.

Title: Take the shot Author: Susspencer Warnings: Gun violence, Summary: Daily in the lives of Mi6 members everything can be different if things just go a different way. Whether it’s a double 0 or someone from Q branch or even Moneypenny, life sometimes only gives you just one shot. Will you take the shot or will you miss it?

“James, you have just one shot.” 007 swore this was the only instruction that he was ever given. His license to kill appeared limited.

“Take the shot!” M yelled, as Moneypenny peered through the scope. Two men stood fighting. She took just one shot and watched a man fall from the train.

James had had enough of nursing his wound. He took this one shot, that M would trust him enough to return to the game.

Q's com was open, as he heard 007 fire. He watched as James’ shot went askew. Q adjusted the trajectory with the click of a few computer buttons. Just one shot, with Q's help, became fatal.

After a tetanus shot at medical, with a watchful eye of a concerned friend, it was off for the weekend. The life of a 00.

Friday night at the pub, meant 00’s and shots. They taunted him. “Come on, just one shot.” Q had warm fuzzy feeling and then sleep.

The next morning Q found himself in James’ bed. Q recalled how he arrived in this position. Q smiled. “It took just one shot to get here, but several others to point the way,” as he kissed James.

Title: Biology and the Perils of Efficiency

Author: Gwylliondream

Warning: None

Summary: Bond is the oldest agent on the MI6 payroll.

Sweaty and panting, but far from sated, Bond lay facedown on the duvet. Every muscle in his back tensed beneath Q’s fingertips.

Outside, the rain fell. The power had failed an hour earlier, but Q’s flat glowed with the help of some candles. When Bond escorted the Quartermaster home from the floodlit halls of MI6, he hadn’t expected an invitation inside.

Q grabbed two handfuls of firm arse. He took care to massage them deeply before lowering his mouth to the small of Bond’s back.

Bond gasped and shuddered, too breathless to demand that Q get on with it.

Moving toward his prize, Q felt the fluttering beneath his tongue. He maintained his demeanor, no matter how badly he wanted to grin. He drew back and blew a gust of hot breath across Bond’s arsehole. The candles flickered, sending shadows across the walls.

Bond’s toes clenched as he found his voice. “Don’t stop, for fuck’s sake!” he pleaded for Q to continue.

Q smiled and rested his hand on one arse cheek. Biology dictated that a man of Bond’s age had just one shot. Q was determined to make it worth his while… even if it took him all night.

Title: Down

Author: Iambid/Flantastic

Warnings: None

Summary: When things go wrong, Q will always find him

The pub was a dive. Not James’s usual style. Q found him propped up against the bar, his bruised and bloody hands wrapped around a tumbler of whiskey. James hadn’t been able to stop the man he’d been tracking and his device had killed so many people. He’d disappeared but he was no match for Q. James drunkenly raised an eyebrow when he saw him.

“Smartblood, remember?” Q said as he tapped the injection point on James's arm.

“Smart boy.” James countered, smiling. His face fell. “You shouldn’t come looking for me.”

“You shouldn’t crawl into the bottom of a bottle whenever a mission goes wrong.”

“What else is there?” James asked. “I don't have anything else,” he said, as Q leaned over and kissed his cheek. “You have me.”

James shook his head sadly and for a moment Q thought he might try to push him away. He had before and it hurt Q to think he couldn’t always make things better for his agent. James sniffed and suddenly threw back his drink before beckoning over the barman.

“Just one more shot.” Q said gently, running his fingers over James’s sleeve. “And then come home with me.” James nodded.

Title: It's a Date Author: solarmorrigan Summary: Q gives Bond some incentive to make it home in one piece Warnings: None

“You should go to dinner with me,” Bond said, “when I get back.”

“And you should focus on the matter at hand, 007. Try to be professional,” Q chided, more amused than anything; it wasn’t as though he wouldn’t say yes eventually, but he liked to make Bond wait for it.

A few shots rang out over the comm, corresponding to the guards Q could see drop down on the security feed he had running onscreen. “I am focused,” Bond insisted. “I’m capable of multitasking, you know.”

There was a sharp reply ready on Q’s tongue, but it was lost when a flurry of activity occurred onscreen; an unexpected group of guards, an alarming amount of gunfire, and a heart-pounding few moments of silence while Q searched the security feed for Bond.

“007, report.”

“Uninjured. Penned in,” Bond’s voice came through, quiet but steady; there was a brief pause. “Low on ammunition. I have one bullet.”

Q was already typing, looking for a way, any way, to get Bond out. “Well, you’d better make it back. It’s my understanding that I should have dinner with you,” Q murmured, still searching. “I’ll give you just one shot, 007. Don’t waste it.”

#10

Title: A Quick Pick-Me-Up Author: azure7539arts Warnings: None Summary: Bond was trying so hard to stay sober for this. He really was.

“Just one shot?”

Bond said nothing and finished the rest of his Scotch, which, no matter how much he didn’t want to agree with her right then, really didn’t feel anywhere near enough at all. “I still have a mission to monitor, thanks,” he replied, and even without looking, he could still feel the sharp edge of Eve’s sly smile brushing right up against the edges of his senses.

“R can always take over, you know,” Eve offered, bridging the short gap between them to come lean against the table Bond was also occupying. “Speaking of which… how’s our boy doing?”

“Spectacular,” Bond mumbled before he could stop himself, the indignant hints like budding thorns under the gruff of his voice.

Eve’s grin had become positively shark-like. “Admit it, this isn’t about something as petty as you being jealous because Q’s getting all the attention. You’re actually jealous because he’s out seducing someone else and is doing a fine job at it, too.”

Bond’s eyes flitted over to where the remaining bottle of Scotch was.

Distantly, he contemplated just downing the whole thing, firmly ignoring the heat that had begun spreading all over his back just from listening to her.

#11

Title: Formidable Author: solitaryjane Warnings: none Summary: Bond and Q go rogue together, and the first act is to assassinate M.

This is it, Bond knows. There is no turning back.

He adjusts the sniper rifle and looks once more through the scope. The action is redundant and a bit obsessive, not exactly something 007 is particularly known for. It’s fitting, however, in lieu of his new persona, one that has crept into his subconscious without a by-your-leave. MI6 has betrayed him, betrayed them both, and they’re simply not willing to play anymore.

On the other side of the scope sits Mallory in his fortified office. The window is triple-reinforced, but Bond knows the bullet will penetrate it like spun sugar - Q invented it after all. He will have three minutes to get to the car, fourteen to avoid all the roadblocks. Once he gets outside London proper, where Q is patiently waiting, they’ll be free.

His earpiece crackles. “Now or never, James,” the familiar voice prods, and Bond smirks. He can almost see the green eyes through the camera perched above. Won’t be long, darling, he thinks, and the smile grows wider. It won't.

Bond doesn't look away this time. His hand is steady on the trigger, the aim perfect. His heart leaps at his throat.

Just one shot.

Go.

#12

Title: Never A Good Sign

Author: melynen

Warnings: none

Summary: After a night out, Bond and Q have a little talk.

“‘Just one shot’, you said,” Q glares at Bond. “‘It won’t have any effect on you’, my arse.”

“That one didn’t, no,” Bond says mildly. “It was the subsequent six that did, I believe.”

Q huffs through his nose and looks at the man standing in the middle of his office. It’s unfair, really, how he never seems to suffer from any ill effects from all the drinking Q sees him do. Even now, barely five hours after having escorted his sloshed Quartermaster safely home and setting out water and painkillers at the ready on his bedside table, Bond hardly looks affected by the early hour.

But then, Q brightens considerably. “Vomiting all over your lap was the highlight of my evening, though.”

“I’m sure,” Bond says, and he sounds amused. He pauses and his eyes twinkle; it’s never a good sign. “You did quite thoroughly wreck my suit, darling. I fear it may be a lost cause, so I may require some form of… compensation from you.”

Q blinks, eyes tracking Bond’s movements. “Really, 007?”

Bond steps into his personal space, lips brushing against his ear, and Q shivers. “Oh yes. We shall revisit the topic once I return.”

Thank you to our amazing drabble writers for taking the shot this week!

To our amazing readers, you can help this competition by going here to vote on your top three drabbles. You may also leave anonymous feedback for one or more drabbles.

Let’s vote!

#00qldws #ldws #00Q

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amirosebooks · 6 years

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Destiel / SPN Fics by Amirosebooks

This is crossposted to my Pillowfort page (same username as here) where you can actually see the links to the fics. Or you can find them on my AO3 page (also the same username). I’m not abandoning my Tumblr yet, but I will start sharing more things over on Pillowfort and will, eventually, likely migrate there entirely.

❤ Ami

A Chance G · 1,800 Words Getting together · Valentine’s Day fic · Fluff

For the DeanCas Writing Challenge September 2018. Prompt "I would be lucky to even have a chance with you.”

❤ The Rewatch T · 2,100 Words Bi!Dean · John Winchester’s A+ Parenting · Homophobia · Background Femslash · Charlie Bradbury Lives · Angst & Fluff

Based on the prompt "H-How long have you been standing there?"

Dean's is having a shitty day, a shitty week even. He ran into one of his exes unexpectedly and needs some time to himself to decompress. He retires to The Dean Cave to rewatch one of his favorite movies, hoping it will distract him from his memories. (It doesn't.)

They Were Going To Die Here T · 2,000 Words Kidnapped Dean & Cas · Love Confessions · Whump

Based on the prompt: "I told you not to fall in love with me."

Dean and Cas were captured weeks ago and are starting to lose hope of making it out alive. Somehow I'm not convinced Dean would be having a blaze of glory conversation with Cas in that situation with him instead of Sam.

Goop G · 2,000 Words Team Free Will · Destiel if you squint a lot · Goo · Comedy

Written for the Seasons fan fiction anthology. This story is from the Summer section which was intended to cover themes like: freedom, laughter, fun; sunshine, hot days; swimming, sunburns; slow, lazy, relaxed; contentment; flourishing growth, childhood; no regrets or second thoughts; unreality; disconnected from the darkness of “real life”; the prime of life; Fourth of July, Stanford, vacation from school.

I opted for writing a quick story celebrating a happy, ridiculous Team Free Will at its finest on a hunt sort of moment. I've been told by my main beta that the subject matter (witch guts) is sort of gross so keep that in mind.

The Orb T · 1,300 Words Team Free Will · Sammy Knows · Lovecraftian Monsters · Goo · Comedy

From the prompt: "You're lucky you're cute."

Cas brings a strange souvenir back from a hunt.

Band T-Shirts T · 2,500 Words Team Free Will · Domestic Fluff and Crack · Post Season 13 · Cas Gets A New Wardrobe · Agent Beyoncé References

From this prompt: There's a sort of standard fanon idea that when Cas becomes human, he borrows Dean's clothes for a while, and then eventually the brothers take him to Good Will or wherever for his own clothes.

I want to see that shopping trip. Basically just an excuse for fun shenanigans in a thrift store. I was thinking very new relationship for Dean and Cas, early days. Bonus points if Sam and Dean have some kind of game they've been playing in thrift stores across the country since they were kids, and if Cas comes up with some super goofy outfits. :D

❤ Forgetting Your Blues M · 3,500 Words Temporary Canonical Character Death · Post Season 12 · Fluff and Angst · Getting Together · Fix-It Fic · Openly Bisexual Dean Winchester

Dean Jones doesn't know his real name. He woke up on a public park bench a few months back with an empty wallet and a driver's license listing the name Dean Jones with his picture. The name doesn't feel right on his tongue, but he doesn't remember what part is wrong. The cop who found him in the park got Dean a job in a local diner. The diner feels comfortable to Dean. He understands the rhythm of the place, the ebb and flow of the people and food, even if he's clearly never carried a tray of hot plates in his life. He settles into his new life. He makes new friends. He takes beautiful women and men and people to his bed for comfort on long nights. He has nightmares about blood covering his hands. Who is he? Why has no one come looking for him? What has he done? Why did he fall apart when he saw a guy wearing a tan trenchcoat?

Letters To Ghosts Not Rated · 2,400 Words Temporary Canonical Character Death · Post Season 12 · The Mixtape · Season 13 Coda · Angst With A Happy Ending · Grieving Dean

All Dean wanted was a cup of coffee. What he got instead was a whole bunch of feelings and a raincheck he might never get to cash in.

❤ Humanity’s Angels E · 93,000 Words Case Fic · Canon Divergent Season 12 Fic · Bi!Dean · John Winchester’s A+ Parenting · Team Everyone Switches · Past Rape/Non-Con · BiPhobia · Canon-Typical Violence · Side Original Characters OT3 · Background Saileen · Jealous!Dean

To get their minds off of Kelly Kline, Lucifer, and the BMOL, Dean and Sam take a case in Northern Arizona where a rogue angel was seen flashing his wings at a film festival and ranting about blasphemy. They quickly realize that there might be more to this case than they’d initially thought. The angel fits all the characteristics of being a ghost—EMF readings, see-through body, air chilling ability, and all. A local man is found with his eyes burned out like he was the victim of a smiting keeps them in town after salting and burning the angel’s buried vessel in hopes of dispelling his ghost. Between all of this, Dean is finding it hard to keep his feelings for Cas under wraps. Especially when everywhere he looks and everyone he talks to reminds him of how much energy he’s spent hiding his sexuality from his family over the years. Will watching the ghost angel’s grieving best friend mourn the loss of the angel he’d loved spur Dean into confessing his own feelings before it’s too late? Will an angel from Cas's past be able to succeed where Ishim failed? Who the hell has Sam been texting? Will someone please tell Mary what the hell is going on with her sons? Will any of Team Free Will learn to use their damn words?

❤ Hands On Me E · 2,300 Words Bi!Dean · Masturbation · Car Sex · Voyeurism

Dean just finished working a case by himself and was on his way to meet Sam and Eileen a few states away when he pulled over for the night. All Dean wanted was to grab a few hours of sleep in Baby before he had to leave again. His wandering mind had other plans.

This Feeling I Can’t Change G · 2,400 Words Hurt/Comfort · Pining · Season 9 · Graceless Cas · Canon Typical Not Getting Together Moments

Set during season 9 with graceless!Cas and hurt!Dean. An almost first kiss, some pining and feelings.

Cobbled Together Lifetime G · 1,500 Words Angst · Bittersweet · Winchester Family Feels

Mary finds a photo album in the bunker that documents her sons's lives in pictures.

The Mantra G · 3,100 Words 12x12 Coda · Hurt/Comfort · Fluff and Angst · First Kiss · Platonic Bed Sharing and Cuddling

Following the events of 12.12, Dean wakes up from a nightmare shouting Cas's name. Which works out well, since Cas can't sleep or relax either after everything that went on. Dean introduces Cas to some of the healthier coping mechanisms he knows.

#my spn fanfic #destiel #profoundnet

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blatherkatt · 6 years

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Title: The Mockingbird of Whitestone [Critical Role]

Chapter 3: A Very Close Call

Summary: Twenty years later, Vox Machina–or as much of it as can get to Whitestone at the time–reunite. It’s not their first time doing so, and they don’t plan on it being the last. It should just be another reunion.

But something completely unexpected throws everything into chaos, and leaves Vex’ahlia struggling with emotions she’d thought buried, and Percy trying to piece together the fragments of a very confusing puzzle.

Canon pairings, focusing on Perc’ahlia; warnings for minor blood in a later chapter and a whole lot of ruminating on a canonical major character death.

Author’s Note: The blood starts being a thing in this chapter; the tags on Ao3 will probably be updated to “canon typical violence” starting here, albeit that might be a little overboard but i mean better safe than sorry. also im so sorry this took so long but in my defense this chapter kicked my butt its a behemoth

Rating: T

FIRST | PREVIOUS | NEXT

The next day dawned bright and beautiful, full of sunlight and birdsong and a gentle breeze. What should have been a perfect day for the Spring Renewal festival was quickly soured, however, by a visibly exhausted guard dejectedly relaying the news that they still had no idea where the goblins were.

There’d been a very tense early morning meeting with the town leaders and some particularly concerned visitors about what to do, one which Vex had felt particularly twitchy all through.She wasn’t alone in that much, at least; she could see various shades of nerves and anticipation across faces all around her, even hours later as she carefully patrolled the streets, the kids (all of whom save for Crispin had insisted on going out to the festival) staying close as they’d promised to (for now at least) and Trinket in his full armor bringing up the rear, ever watchful.

The light but tangible weight of Fenthras in her hand was a small comfort as she waited for the other shoe to drop. This time, at least, she’d not be caught off guard.

The day trudged on, each hour with nothing new making her feel more anxious. Her rounds and the whims of the excited kids had brought their group to the street outside the temple of Erathis, where she gave them permission to step away from her side for a while to play some of the games that had been set up along the sides of the road there, so long as they all stayed together and kept Trinket with them.

She leaned herself up against the corner of a building, outwardly resting but inwardly on the highest of alert. Gods damn the blasted goblins, this was supposed to be a time to have some fun after the long winter, not—not all this.

Worst of all, her thoughts kept straying back to that first encounter, and how easily she’d let herself think that—really, it was ridiculous, twenty years went by and the first time a vaguely sneaky stranger showed up, she immediately got her hopes up that somehow he’d be back and everything would go back to a normal that wasn’t normal anymore. It was, she was…

She really wished the damn goblins would just attack already. At least then she could take out her frustration doing something productive, instead of being stuck here just waiting.

All the while, as she thought, her eyes scanned the sparse crowd. Not as many folks were on this road, as most of the attractions would be in the main square, but it was about noon and even out here there was significant enough activity. Off to one side she spotted the three tabaxi from the day before, the one with tufted ears attracting quite a few eyes as he juggled and cajoled; the rust-colored one sat behind with their cart, his body slouched but his single eye and both ears on constant watch. A couple guards were gently escorting a drunken (judging by how heavily he leaned on the guards for support) beggar off of the steps of the temple. A farmer holding a pitchfork and keeping a watch of his own nodded to Vex as her gaze passed over him, whilst two children, likely his own, cheered as they won a prize from a ring-tossing game.

Even with her senses on high alert, however, a human still seemed to almost melt out of the shadows. On a reflex, she jerked to grab an arrow, but relaxed on seeing that it was only Kynan.

He cleared his throat with a nervous smile, still a touch hesitant after all these years.

“Sorry, I’m a bit on edge,” Vex said, taking another moment to quickly scan for her children. They were crowded around a game of some sort, with Tiffany, too short to see over the counter, pouting and demanding to be told what was happening. All safe for now.

“S’alright,” Kynan said. Then, growing more serious, he said, “Anything happened out here?”

Vex shook her head. “It’s all been about as quiet as it can be, during a festival,” she said. “I don’t like it. Anything to report on your end?”

In the two decades that had passed, Kynan had proved himself time and again as very capable, elevated to the council as of five years ago, in charge of law enforcement and wartime movements. He’d been very much on top of things in this particular conflict, for all the frustrations that had come up.

Kynan shrugged. “Nothing violent,” he said, “But there’s been reports of thefts and a few people claiming to have spotted something.”

Vex tapped her fingers restlessly against Fenthras. “Any patterns to the thefts? The first goblin was raiding our larder, after all.”

“Not really. The odd coin here and there, a necklace, a child’s doll. Strangest things to have gone missing is probably a bunch of perfume, but other than that, nothing I’d think worth raising any real alarms over.”

Vex raised an eyebrow. “I think we can safely say that one’s just some thief. What would goblins want with a bunch of perfume?” she asked, dubious. “What would they want with cooking herbs?” Kynan shot back. “Ugh, you sound like Percy,” she said, rolling her eyes. “And the sightings? What’s come out of those?”

“Not so much goblins for sure,” he said, shifting his weight. “People are jumpy. We’ve been taking every report seriously, but every time it’s turned out to be someone in a green shirt, or a blanket hung out to dry that someone spotted out of the corner of their eye. Old Jenkins reported that he saw a bunch of them at his trash last night, but that turned out to be a bunch of bears and a badger, which, uh, was pretty weird, but it wasn’t the goblins.”

Vex blinked. “Well, at least we finally worked out what it is that he keeps seeing, I guess. The poor man’s always claiming some monsters are lurking around his house at night.”

“Tiff?” Crispin’s half-panicked voice rang out over the crowd. Vex stiffened. “Tiffany!! Tiff, you’re supposed to stay close, where are—did anyone see where Tiffany went? I swear I only looked away for a second—” She could see him, drawing Arthur near him, looking frantically around and grabbing at someone’s shirt, could see Trinket rearing up on his hind legs to better see over everyone’s heads.

It was probably fine, Tiffany wandered off sometimes, but now was the worst time to be doing so, gods. She didn’t blame Crispin for a second, not with four siblings to keep an eye on at once, but—fuck it, time to worry about that later, she exchanged a wordless nod with Kynan and stepped forward, looking around herself as Kynan melted into the crowd himself to search for the toddler.

As seconds ticked by, and the little girl didn’t appear, Vex could feel panic welling up inside her, heard it matched by Crispin’s increasingly hoarse shouts. Where was she, where was she, where—There! One of the passerby moved, and Vex spotted her daughter’s dress, saw Tiffany talking to a small, cloaked figure.

One with tattered green ears.

Her hand found an arrow in her quiver on pure instinct. In that same, slowed-down moment, she saw the goblin turn, spot her with those giant, animal eyes, and jerk forward toward Tiffany, reaching out with those terrible clawed fingers toward her daughter—

The arrow was pulled taught against Fenthras’s string as easy as breathing, and with the familiar woosh of wind, sang forward, aimed to take the goblin right through its chest. Time seemed to restart, sound roaring back in as Tiffany wailed, and Vex wasn’t sure if her arrow struck true. Someone screamed, and as the crowd all reacted at once to the goblin’s appearance, someone ran into Vex’s line of sight again as she tried to push forward. She spotted the goblin thrashing in the grip of the vines of the brambleshot, saw Tiffany on the ground, sitting up, howling, saw the goblin somehow manage to wrench itself free of the restraining grip and dash down the alley just as Vex finally got to her daughter.

Fuck the goblin, she’d catch up to it later.

“Tiffany, are you okay? I got you, I got you sweetie, come here,” she said, scooping the crying child into her arms. There didn’t look to be any wounds, thank Sarenrae, she didn’t look to be hurt anywhere, no doubt she was just startled by the shock of getting attacked like that. She’d have the little beast’s hide for this, how dare it lay a hand on her daughter, how dare it invade her city!

Trinket thundered up behind her, nudging her back with his nose as she held Tiffany close, shaking with an intense terror and fury. The bear’s touch brought her back into now.

“Thank you, Trinket,” she said, softly, and then, louder, standing, she pointed down the alley, still hugging Tiffany tightly to her. “It went down that way! Go after it, I’ll be right behind you!”

The bear grunted and raced off after his quarry. For the time being, however, she pulled back. Kynan and a guard were carefully guiding anyone unwilling or unable to fight into the temple of Erathis. She saw Leo, Trissa, and Arthur herded inside, but Crispin was hanging back, still calling out for his sister.

Vex darted over, shoving Tiffany into his arms—she was still crying, but she was alive, that was what mattered, she didn’t look wounded, no time to freeze right now—and pushed him towards the temple entrance. “Go, get inside, now!” she barked, before running after Trinket.

The trail was easy to follow, she noted with a grim satisfaction; she’d definitely landed a very good hit on the goblin, and a line of blood droplets clearly marked out where it had gone. The trail weaved back and forth, at one point evidently crashing into a corner; here, more blood had splashed down, too, and Vex spotted the back half of her arrow. No doubt the goblin had tried to remove it, and only managed to snap it in half.

Rounding a few more corners, she found Trinket urgently pawing at a wall. Near its base was a cluster of droplets large enough to almost constitute a puddle, and on the wall itself, a few telltale four-fingered handprints were visible on a drainpipe. Vex looked up just in time to see a tail disappear over the roof.

“Good job, Trinket,” she said, and then set about quickly climbing up herself, Trinket boosting her up as best he could.

The goblin was there, cowering by a chimney and hastily wrapping something around the arrowhead, which Vex could see poking out of its shoulder. It heard her climb up, and with a yelp, disappeared around the chimney just as Vex managed to fire off another shot, the arrow shattering against the stone. She swore, and gave chase as the creature dropped off the other side of the roof, somehow catching itself one-handed on a window ledge to slow its fall.

With a whistle, Vex directed Trinket to round the building while she scaled her own way down. The blood trail had been lessened significantly by whatever fabric the goblin had found, but Trinket had its scent now, there’d be no getting away this time. she’d teach the little beast to lay a claw on her daughter—

She didn’t consciously register that the trail was leading right toward the main square until she spotted the Sun Tree. Was there a bigger attack happening there? What else was happening? She couldn’t hear any sounds of a struggle from that direction. She’d lost sight of the blasted goblin, too; she could see people calmly going about their business, could see Percy talking to what must have been a group of visitors looking nervous.

Too late, she spotted the goblin streaking out of the shadows and straight for the big cluster of people talking to Percy. Vex shouted out a warning, but it was quickly drowned out by screams as the group split apart in a panic. People were fighting to get away, raising a small cloud of dust low to the ground, and stampeding in all directions. The chaos was too much for even Vex’s keen eyes to pierce, and by the time everyone had dispersed enough for her to get a good view, the goblin was nowhere to be seen.

Furious, Vex gestured for Trinket to come with her as she raced in—not that she really needed to, the bear was hard on her heels. “Track it,” she said to Trinket, and then, to the crowd, “Which way did it go? Did anyone see?”

“It poured something on the ground as it passed,” she heard Percy say, somewhere behind her, “I didn’t catch which way it ran, but what did—”

Trinket gave a pained bellow and shuffled backwards, pawing at his nose. As he did, as she turned, the smell hit her nose too; a clashing combination of powerful smells, largely floral and all incredibly strong. Unbidden, the memory sprang to mind of Kynan, just before, mentioning reports of stolen perfume, and realized—somehow, the blasted goblin must have been smart enough to realize it could be tracked by scent, and had worked out a way to make a, a scent bomb of sorts; the smell must have been so strong as to almost physically hurt to poor trinket, and with it scattered everywhere from the onslaught of rushing feet as that crowd had split apart in a panic, that overwhelming smell would be everywhere…

There’d be no tracking it after this. Poor Trinket wasn’t going to be in a condition to be tracking anything after this sensory overload.

It had gotten away again, the little bastard!

The scream that tore out of Vex’s throat at this realization was wholly involuntary. Not that she made any attempt to stop it—she swore, and raged, and tore at her hair, a useless font of angry energy with nothing to direct herself against until a pair of arms locked around her. It took her a moment to recognize them—Percy, trying to calm her.

“Vex, Vex, it’s gone, we can’t get distracted running around after just one, we have to brace to protect civilians from the main attack,” he said, his arms tight around her as she struggled. “It might be trying to lead you into a trap, just let it run!”

“It almost got Tiffany,” she gasped, and heard him take a sharp breath himself. “It nearly took Tiffany, Percy, I saw it try to grab her—I’ll fucking kill them, gods damn them, they almost—”

“Oh, Gods,” he said, hoarse. “Is she—?”

“Crispin’s got her, it didn’t get her, but it was so close, Percy,” and she felt the anger fading into horrified tears, and hated herself for how powerless she was to stop them.

“Fuck,” Percy whispered.

The temple to Erathis was a chaotic hive of anxiety. Townsfolk and visitors alike crowded around some of the city leaders, all talking over each other in hysterics and demanding answers. Off by Trinket, as far out of the way as they could get, the kids (minus Tiffany) were talking amongst themselves, looking various shades of excited, bored, and, in Crispin’s face, pensive. Percy, for his part, was trying to help with this, but trying to calm down a horde of anxious townsfolk was hard enough without also trying to soothe a distressed toddler. Maybe it was for the best after all that Vex had insisted on rejoining the hunt for the creature; Percy’d been concerned and argued against it, with how distraught she’d been, but at this point, being left behind was starting to feel like the more stressful option. It took nearly two hours of himself, Cassandra, Keyleth, and some of the priests repeating themselves to regain some semblance of calm. No, we don’t know where they are, yes, we’ve got all the guards and a good number of volunteers out searching, no, no one’s been reported missing yet.

(And what a close call that was—Gods, they’d almost lost Tiffany.)

Keyleth ducked out for a moment, saying she wanted to ask if the Sun Tree knew anything, and Percy, still juggling three very persistent worriers and a fussy child, just waved her off without really listening. He really wished Pike were here; she wasn’t a city leader anymore than Keyleth was, but she was so very good at making people feel more at ease. But she’d joined in the chase, along with Grog and Scanlan, of course. Trinket was the only other member of Vox Machina to stay behind, and that was on account of nursing an apparent headache.

Mercifully, Cassandra ducked in and gently lifted Tiffany out of Percy’s arms, allowing him to spend a few minutes focusing on reassuring the last few stragglers. The rest had settled down into groups clustered about the pews, or had formed larger bands for the sake of safety in numbers before heading off to inns or homes. A sense of unease remained, but at least it was a quiet unease instead of the chaos of before.

(He still kept an eye on Tiffany, even knowing she’d be perfectly safe with Cassandra. Even hearing about how close she’d come to being taken had left him shaken. He couldn’t imagine what Vex must be going through, having seen it happen.)

Finally, sending the last of the worrying folk on their way, he sat down on one of the few empty pews and took a moment to catch his breath and collect his thoughts. Hopefully, the searchers were making some sort of progress—it should not have been this difficult to track down and deal with a bunch of bloody goblins, for heaven’s sake.

The trick that one had used to deter Trinket fascinated him, despite how worried he felt. Somehow, the creature had known to concoct a scent powerful enough to cover up just about everything, and then to drop that scent right where a huge crowd of panicking people would spread it out very quickly, creating a sort of…olfactory smoke screen, and overloading the bear’s nose, to boot. That was a level of thinking he was not used to goblins being capable of.

…Actually, that just made the whole mess more worrying. Trinket had only tracked down the one scout, yesterday, just for one brief instance, but that was enough apparently for the goblins to prepare ways to shake him off, and so quickly, too. Maybe that was why they were proving so hard to find; perhaps Whitestone had been unfortunate enough to attract a particularly shrewd set of goblins.

It’d be right about average for this city’s luck, really. Ugh.

He was shaken from his thoughts by someone plunking into the pew next to him—Keyleth, with the same more laid-back air she always seemed to have after her…conversations with the Sun Tree.

“Did you learn anything new?” he asked.

“Um. No.” Keyleth ran a hand awkwardly through her hair. “He said he didn’t know anything, because he’s a tree. I mean, he did notice a goblin running around a few times, apparently, but only ever one at a time? Which I’m feeling pretty vindicated about, but I guess that doesn’t technically prove that there’s only ever been one goblin, but, still.”

Percy ran a hand through his hair. “Would it know if they were hiding nearby?”

Keyleth pulled a face. “Um. Probably? Maybe? He’s not super observant, honestly. But he definitely would know if a bunch of goblins passed through the main square at any point, and it seems like that hasn’t happened, so.” Then, looking at Percy’s face, she added, “I’m really sorry, Percy, I wish I could help with this more.”

He shook his head. “No, it’s—everyone’s doing their best, it’s no one’s fault if there’s a few dead end leads. You were a huge help calming people down, anyway. We’re all frustrated and scared, is all. Thank you for trying.”

“What about Tiff?” Keyleth asked. “Have you been able to calm her down enough to get anything out of her?”

Percy was taken aback for a moment, and looked back towards Tiffany, still quiet in her brother’s arms. “She stopped crying finally, but I haven’t tried talking to her about it, no. I hadn’t really thought to. Keyleth, she’s three. She probably didn’t really understand what was happening.”

“Yeah, but it’s still worth a shot, right?” said Keyleth. “I didn’t really think the Sun Tree was gonna know much either, and, I mean, he didn’t, but it won’t hurt to try. If she’s too scared to talk about it we won’t press her.”

“Fair enough.”

Tiffany was still sniffling when Percy took her back from Cassandra’s arms, but had stopped crying at last for the most part. As Percy held her and sat down, she rubbed one tiny fist over an eye and hiccuped. There were some mostly dried droplets of blood across the front of her dress, he noticed, but he had no doubt she’d been looked over very thoroughly and found uninjured. It must have been the goblin’s.

He took a deep breath to steady himself at the thought of how close that had been, and forced a gentle smile. “How are—are you feeling better, Tiff, dear? I know that must have been really scary.”

Tiffany nodded emphatically. “It was!!” she said, eyes wide. “I was jus’ talking to a, the shadow person I seed yesterday a few times, an’ they, an’ all the sudden they pushed me, an’ there were vines, and they were bleeding, an, an’ Mama was scared too!”

Percy blinked, confused for a moment. Right, Tiffany was young enough that perhaps she didn’t realize that the goblin had been dangerous. The arrow had likely frightened her more than her actual attacker. “Right, well, in the future you should…maybe be a bit more cautious about going over to people you don’t know when they call you over.”

“They didn’t do that, tho,” Tiffany sniffled. “They were just sorta hiding over by the wagon. But they—I saw them take a teapot, yesterday, an’ Mama said that, um, that we’d tell the shadow person that it’s not, it’s not nice to take teapots!! So I went to tell them that.”

“That was really dangerous, Tiffany,” said Keyleth, leaning over.

“Why?”

“Because it was…” Keyleth chewed her lip. “Do you know what a goblin is, Tiffany?”

Tiffany nodded. “They’re, um, there’s some in the stories Papa reads to me.” Before Keyleth or Percy could respond, though, Tiffany continued, “But, but they’re always mean an’ stupid, an’ the shadow person didn’t seem either of those things! They were just, um. They were really…um. They didn’t even notice me until I talked to them, and they, and they weren’t even interested in what I said about the teapot or anything, they kept looking all over the place instead! An’ they barely even said anything about the teapot, they just said a buncha other stuff.”

Keyleth tilted her head, but said nothing beyond a quiet, “Huh.”

Percy could think of a few reasons for the goblin to be distracted, and none of them were particularly good, but…perhaps they could work out more as to what the actual intentions of the invaders were, since Tiffany seemed so eager to talk about what had happened. Maybe he could get more of a bead on what sort of plan required goblins to steal herbs and, evidently, a teapot. Hesitantly, he asked, “What did the…the shadow person say to you?”

Tiffany sniffled, and seemed to think for a moment. “Um. They asked if, if I saw a…a weird man.”

That was…entirely unexpected. “…Did they? That’s…What do you mean by weird, Tiff?”

“Um. They said, um, a guy in a…a guy wif a coat, an’, an’ he was messy, they said, an’ that he talked funny.”

Percy looked across at Keyleth, who looked every bit as confused as he felt.

“Did they say why they were looking for this man?”

Tiffany shook her head. “Um! They also said the weird man was on the, was in front of the temple, but he was gone now! They wanted to know if I saw where he went, an’ I didn’t, an’ I said so.”

“And then did the go-the shadow person ask you to lead them to him, or anything?” Keyleth said, sitting down next to Percy. It was exactly what Percy’d been meaning to ask next. It’d make the most sense—maybe the whole thing about some man was a ruse to draw the child away from the watchful eyes of the many armed adults in the area.

“Nuh-uh,” said Tiffany. “They just sorta made a sad noise an’ then they, they said I shouldn’t talk to strangers wifout my parents around.” Percy couldn’t help but slowly turn to make eye contact with Keyleth as the toddler continued on, “An’ I said that my momma was real close so it was okay, an’ they said no it wasn’t, I shouldn’t be talking to them without a, um, an adult I trust, knowing that I’m talking to them. An’ then they asked where mama was, an’ looked around, and then they pushed me!!”

That was…Hm.

“…I mean. That’s. They weren’t wrong about all that, actually, that’s…very good advice, and I’m very conflicted about the fact that—you’re sure that’s what they said, Tiff?” Percy said, feeling completely lost.

Tiffany gave a single, adamant nod. “Yeah!! An’ then they got hit by an arrow, an’ I got real scared, an’ everyone started screaming!” She sniffled. “Why’d they push me like that? We were jus’ talking, an’, an’ they seemed nice!”

“It was…it was trying to grab you,” Percy said, but the words felt…wrong in his mouth, now. Suddenly, the puzzle pieces didn’t make sense. The gears that had looked to fit perfectly were entirely the wrong size, and it was entirely possible that what he’d thought to be a screw was instead a nail. What…what were they dealing with, here?

Keyleth shook her head. “I don’t know, Percy, this is getting weird…” She chewed her lip for a moment, and then, quietly, trying to keep Tiffany from hearing, she asked, “Is it—she is little, maybe she’s remembering wrong?”

“It wouldn’t be like her to make something like this up,” Percy whispered back. “Leo or Trissa at her age, certainly, and in a few days she may have a very embellished version of things, but right after things happen, she tends to be pretty honest.”

“It didn’t feel like a grab,” Tiffany pouted. “It felt like a push. I fell down on my butt afterwards an’ it hurt a lot.”

Percy tried to imagine the scene with the new information. Tried to fit it in with what he knew about goblins, and kept hitting walls. It didn’t fit. So, then, maybe…

He tried looking at it again, but this time, instead of thinking of the individual as a typical goblin invader, he tried just…thinking about their actions in the context of a normal person. And in that context, things started to make sense. They’d been going about their business when a very chatty, particularly bold toddler had demanded their attention. And then they’d…well, he still couldn’t quite make sense of looking for some strange man, but at the very least it told him that Tiffany’s shadow person had something on their mind.

The advice about strangers made a lot more sense, this way; they were very much busy and distracted and likely didn’t have time to be talking to a small child. They’d told her off a bit, and then looked around for the child’s parents. Perfectly normal behavior for someone who wasn’t seeking to kidnap and devour any small child they could get their hands on.

And then…

“So you told this person that Mama was near?” Percy said, to be sure. Tiffany nodded. “And then they looked around to find her…”

…And would have seen an arrow pointed in their direction, wouldn’t they. Ha. Now he was starting to see how the gears were meant to fit together.

It was a bit of a crazy theory, probably. But the truth was, so far, no one had really been attacked, except for perhaps Trinket a couple of times, and both were justifiably self defense. If Tiffany was right in her understanding of what had happened today, then…

“Keyleth,” Percy said slowly, “You don’t suppose it might have been trying to push Tiffany out of the way?”

“Of what?” Keyleth asked, but before he could answer, another commotion broke out. The goblin hunters were back, it seemed. And judging by the grim looks on their faces, they’d been unsuccessful again.

He ought to have been worried by that, but in the moment, his mind was buzzing. He felt at once like he’d worked out the shape of the thing and like he knew less than ever—there were so many pieces that were missing, ones that he didn’t even know how to START with, but even so, it was an explanation that felt like it fit. He needed to tell Vex, she’d be thrilled to hear there was some sort of lead on all this.

Somehow, Keyleth managed to get ahead of him, getting caught up in the knot of people forming around Vox Machina. Percy, with Tiffany still in his arms, couldn’t break through the crowd, but after a couple minutes of worried folk clamouring for news and Grog’s voice booming out his disappointment above it all, he saw Vex push her way out of the throng and make a beeline towards him.

The rest of the kids, who’d been off in a corner with Trinket, ran up as well, gathering in close as Vex took Tiffany from Percy and held her tight to her chest. There was a heartbreaking tension around her face, accompanied by the kind of exhaustion that comes only from great stretches of stress.

“Did you beat the bad guys, Mama?” Arthur demanded, tugging on Vex’s tunic. Before she could respond, Trissa and Leo both tried to shout over each, asking for details just as loudly.

Crispin had been unusually quiet and withdrawn for quite some time, and now, whatever dam had been holding him back finally broke, the boy nearly in tears as his voice shook. “Mom, I’m so sorry,” he said, frantic, “I was—Trissa and Arthur were arguing, and Leo kept screaming that he was hungry, and I think Trinket was distracted by something else, and I—I’m so sorry, there was so much, I swear I only let her out of my sight for a couple minutes!”

“Kids, stop—Hold on just a second, please!” Vex chided the three middle children. One arm still firmly holding onto Tiffany, Vex stretched out a hand and gently but firmly made Crispin look at her. “Darling, listen to me,” she said, “You didn’t do anything wrong here, alright? A lot happened very quickly, I’m not angry and this isn’t your fault.”

“I’ll try and pay more attention next time, I swear—”

“You did your best,” Percy said, drawing Crispin in close and pressing a kiss to his temple. “Tiffany’s alive, and she isn’t hurt, it’s alright.”

“Yeah, but did you kill them?” Leo piped up.

“No, damn them,” Vex spat. “Couldn’t find hide nor hair of the little—ugh.”

“Aw, what?” Trissa complained. Crispin somehow managed to look even more distressed.

Percy, sensing a potential storm brewing if the conversation continued as it was—Trissa and Crispin would get into an argument over just about anything these days, with Leo egging the former on, and that was the last thing they needed right now—quickly stepped in. “Alright, kids, your mother and I need to talk privately for a moment. You can hear more about how things went later,” he continued over the loud whines of complaint from Arthur, Leo, and Trissa. “For now, just—One of you take Tiff and just…wait over by Trinket, won’t you?”

Thankfully, they did as they were told, albeit with a lot more complaining from most of them. Crispin took Tiffany with a nod, and helped push the rest to follow Percy’s instructions. As they left, Percy heard Trissa say, “You don’t have to be such a goodie two-shoes about it, Crispin,” and let out a deep sigh.

“I’m really starting to worry, Percy,” Vex said, falling heavily back onto a nearby pew and burying half her face in one hand. “The goblins have somehow managed to completely disappear, they shouldn’t be able to just up and vanish like this, and I hate not knowing where or when they’re going to turn up next! By some miracle, no one appears to have been hurt or killed yet, but it’s only a matter of time.”

“Maybe not,” said Percy, sitting next to her. She turned a tired eye towards him. “Keyleth and I talked to Tiffany about what happened, and it’s got me thinking. I know it’s a bit out there, but honestly, what she described didn’t feel like an invader at all, so much as just another visitor to the festival. She certainly never felt that she was in any danger—”

“Percy,” said Vex, but Percy didn’t stop.

“And, if anything, it sounded like the goblin was trying to push her out of danger rather than attack her. And if that’s the case, then it would follow that we may not be in danger at all, that we’re actually dealing with a, a harmless group of goblins. Which would go a very long way in explaining a lot of the weirdness that’s been—”

“Percival!”

Any further elaboration he might have had lined up died in his throat when faced with the hardness in Vex’s eyes. “I’d say that you can’t be serious, but I’d sincerely hate to think you’d make such a thoughtless joke in a time like this,” she said. “They’re goblins, Percival, of course we’re in danger! One of them tried to take our daughter!”

Some other eyes in the temple were looking at them, he noticed out of the corner of his eye. They weren’t quite in a full on shouting match, but Vex wasn’t trying to be quiet, either. He swallowed. “I mean, Tiffany was very sure that—”

“Tiffany is three years old!” Vex hissed. “She probably didn’t understand what was happening! You can’t go basing an entire insane theory on the word of a toddler!” She pressed her face into her hand again. “Gods, Percival, not everything is some bloody puzzle that needs working out, sometimes things just are what they seem on face value! People’s lives are at stake and we can’t afford to risk calling off our defenses based on a complete fantasy!”

“Well, but, I…”

“Well, why don’t you fight them, then, Mr. I Know How To Use A Big Pointy Stick?”

“Yeah, you’re the one with sword lessons, why don’t you use them, you big chicken?”

Vex and Percy’s heads both turned towards their kids at the rising sounds of Trissa and Leo’s voices. Gods, if they were egging on Crispin again—yep, sure enough, Crispin and Trissa had their eyes locked, Leo at her back adding on to whatever she said.

“There’s a world of difference between sparring with Aunt Cass or whatever guard’s on break and being in an actual fight, Trissa!” Crispin shot back.

“Oh, like you’d know,” Trissa said, rolling her eyes. “I don’t know even know how you’re my brother, sometimes. How’d Mom and Dad have such a big coward?”

“You want me to end up like our uncle?!” Crispin snapped, and Percy felt Vex tense beside him. “Or did you forget about what happened to him? Our parents weren’t living out some fantasy in a book, they were fighting for their fucking lives, and two of them didn’t survive!”

“Mom and Dad did!” Leo said.

“No they fucking didn’t, they just got lucky and were able to come back!”

Percy swore under his breath and got out of his seat, heading toward the kids. He could feel Vex doing the same.

“They all died, the whole group, at least once!” Crispin went on, “I’m pretty sure Mom and Dad both went down twice! And resurrection ceremonies aren’t a guarantee! I’m pretty sure they were just really fucking lucky—I know you know this, Trissa, you can’t just ignore it! All of them, Mom, Dad, fuck, something even managed to kill Grog, and they were all well fucking trained fighters, what the hell are we supposed to do?!”

Arthur started to wail.

“Stop it right now!” Vex said, getting ahead of Percy and planting herself right in the middle of the three arguing children. Percy knelt down and drew Arthur close to him. Tiffany didn’t look like she’d really understand any of what had been said, thankfully—they’d been careful to wait until each kid was old enough to handle it before telling them certain parts of the stories of Vox Machina’s exploits, and neither of the two youngest had been let in on the details Crispin had just laid out.

Judging by the stricken look on his face, Crispin was well aware of his mistake. The boy stammered an apology, but Vex waved it off and turned toward Trissa and Leo.

“Your brother’s right about one thing, neither of you two are anywhere near ready for a real fight,” Vex said, “Especially if you can’t even recognize that this is not the time or place to be fighting amongst yourselves.”

“But Mom, Crispin—”

“Is trying to protect you, like a good brother, and I’ll not have you antagonizing him over it.”

“We can—” Leo piped up.

“No. We’re going home.” A cry of complaint started, but was instantly cut short by a single look from Vex. “All you’ve accomplished with this is scaring your little brother, and you’re going to march back quietly and really think about what you’ve done, do you understand?”

Arthur, at least, was calming down into sniffles rather than outright sobbing. Percy kept trying to soothe the boy, unable to bring himself to look at Vex until he felt her hand on his shoulder.

“Did you hear me, Percy?” she said, her voice softer than it had been, but not much. “I’m taking the kids and Trinket back up. Are you staying down here?”

Percy swallowed. “Um, yes, I think I…there’s so much to do, you know.”

“I’m not angry at you, you understand that, right?” she said. “I just…I’d love for everything to secretly be fine, too, Percy, but it’s just not feasible. I know what I saw.”

“…Of course,” he said, standing. “Travel safe, all of you. I’ll see you tonight.”

He kissed his wife on the cheek, and stood by, quietly reeling as the rest of his family walked away.

It was funny how many things one could find to do when they were definitely procrastinating. Percy managed to busy himself until the sun had begun to set, helping out with arranging things, answering questions, doing whatever he could think of to keep busy. But as the last few people started heading to beds, and guards started up the first of the evening patrols that had been agreed upon for the time being, Percy begrudgingly had to accept that it was probably time to head home.

He’d thought that maybe his theory was a bit far fetched, sure, but he’d not been ready to be so thoroughly shut down for it. Normally that only happened when he was being dangerously stupid, which—well, alright, the town was in danger, fair.

Maybe it really was overly optimistic. It would be so much easier if this was all just a misunderstanding.

“Hey, Percy!” Keyleth’s voice right behind him nearly made him stumble, so sudden did it seem. “What’s up? I’ve been trying to get your attention for like half a minute,” she said, moving up to keep pace with him.

“Sorry, I’m just…distracted, I suppose.”

“…By the argument with Vex?” Keyleth said, and Percy winced. “Sorry,” she added. “Don’t mean to, um, rub dirt in the wound or anything, I just—things seemed tense.”

“It’s…my fault, probably,” he said. “She’s got every right to be stressed out, anyway. It’s been a bloody stressful day.”

“Yeah.”

A comfortable, if slightly awkward silence stretched between them for a few moments, as they walked. Eventually, Keyleth broke it by asking, “Hey, what were you saying before, anyway?”

“Hm?”

“When we were talking to Tiffany,” Keyleth said. “You were about to say something, and then we got interrupted. It’s been bugging me all day!”

“Oh, it was—I—it was nothing, Keyleth,” he said, hurriedly.

“It didn’t sound like something,” she pressed. “It sounded like you were onto something! Come on, what was it?”

“A lot of wishful thinking, apparently,” Percy mumbled.

“About what? Come on, this whole thing’s super weird.”

“You’ll laugh.”

“Promise I won’t?”

Percy looked sideways at her. She had that earnest look about her that was so very Keyleth, the one that meant she wasn’t going to give up on this. He sighed.

“Alright, alright, fine. I had a…theory, of sorts, that was forming. One which Vex very quickly pointed out the holes in,” he said, taking off his glasses for a moment to nervously clean them.

“Oh?” Yeah, he should’ve known that dropping that hint wouldn’t stop her from pushing on.

“It’s…I was thinking at the time that maybe the goblin pushed Tiffany because it saw the arrow pointed at the both of them and wanted to get her out of the way,” he said, feeling a fool for even saying it aloud again. He slipped his glasses back on, adjusted them on his nose, looking away from Keyleth as he continued, “And following from that, that maybe we’re not dealing with anything malicious. Which is…”

“Makes sense to me,” said Keyleth. “I’m not seeing the problem here, yet.”

Percy felt his jaw drop as his head involuntarily snapped to look at her.

Nope, no humor to her expression, just more of that sincerity.

“That’d explain what it said about strangers, too, actually,” Keyleth said, “because if it cared enough about her safety to try and push her out of the way, it’d wanna make sure she’s with her parents, too, right? Yeah! Yeah, that makes a lot of sense! Plus, no one’s gotten hurt at all, yet, and with this many vulnerable people here that’s super weird!”

“I—but—Keyleth, the idea of an entire tribe of goblins randomly showing up who just happen to be quite possibly the one single tribe of nonviolent goblins is—it’s patently ridiculous!” he stammered. Yet, at the same time, part of him felt vindicated—Keyleth may have been a bit foolish at times, but she was far from stupid, and their years traveling together had brought her much more down to earth. If she thought that he might be on to something…

“I mean, with the stuff we’ve all seen together, friendly goblins doesn’t sound all that weird,” she said with a grin. “But, consider this: maybe it’s not a whole tribe!”

“…Oh?”

“Sun Tree’s only ever seen one, I’ve only ever seen one, has anyone so far reported seeing more than one at a time? I mean, like, any reports that we’ve been able to confirm? I know there’s been a ton of false alarms, but. Actual, for sure sightings.”

“…Now that you mention it, no, not to my knowledge,” Percy said, feeling the gears start turning again.

Keyleth’s smile widened. “Right! And I really was searching the whole city yesterday, too, so I had a really wide view! It might be that it’s just the one that’s here, and it’s a nice one on its own, right? I didn’t get a good look at it the second time, but do you think it might be the same one?”

“I…didn’t get a good look at the one from today,” Percy said. “It ran by very quickly. Although…that in itself might be a sign it’s the same one. The one Vex found in the storeroom was very fast.”

“Okay, so, there’s your theory!” Keyleth said, bouncing on her feet a bit. “We’re just dealing with one goblin on its own that might not want to hurt anyone!”

“Which still doesn’t answer what it is doing here,” Percy said. “We’ve possibly explained what it hasn’t done, and that’s a start. But no matter how I go about it, I haven’t been able to make everything it has done make sense.”

“So maybe next time we see it we just try talking to it?” said Keyleth. “Although that…might be harder now. Vex apparently shot it with Fenthras.”

Percy winced. “Oh, Gods,” he said, “no wonder the thing tore past like a bat out of hell, then.”

“Speaking of Vex, though, it’s super weird that she got mad at you for suggesting this,” said Keyleth.

Percy shrugged. “I don’t know, Keyleth,” he said, “she’s really very certain that she saw the goblin attack our daughter. I’d be pretty peeved in her shoes, too. Honestly, I’m not even entirely convinced that she was wrong. There’s no real proof for this, it’s just one possible explanation. It may well be that we’ve only seen a couple scouts.”

“I guess,” said Keyleth, frowning, “But normally I feel like she’d…consider it.”

Percy stopped. Keyleth followed suit, looking at him intently as he thought. “Now that you mention it, she really didn’t even hear me out all the way. I’d hardly started explaining when she just…shut me down.” His own frown deepened. “She didn’t want to talk about the possibility of the goblins being unusual yesterday, either, and I’d not even considered that they might not be attacking at that point. You…you don’t suppose there’s something wrong, do you?”

Keyleth chewed her thumbnail for a moment. “She has been acting kinda weird since she saw the goblin,” she said.

“I…just attributed that to stress over the situation.” Percy folded his arms.

“Yeah, but I mean, even for that, she’s been…off.”

“Hm. I’ll…I might try talking to her, tomorrow, if I can,” he said. Then he allowed himself a smile. “Regardless, thank you for…taking me seriously on this, I suppose.”

She beamed. “No problem!” she said. “We probably shouldn’t bring this up with the others until we’ve got a little more proof, though, huh? Vex might, uh, not be the only one who reacts…badly…to the suggestion.”

“Scanlan.”

“I’m talking about Scanlan, yes.”

#perc'ahlia #percy de rolo #vex'ahlia #critical role #keyleth #longpost//#VERY long #fanfic #fanfiction #katt does a writing #whitestonemockingbirdfic #this one got sO OUT OF HAND.....#LORT #also fun fact i rolled out damage just for funsies #and like nott had 4 more hit points as of reaching level seven than the averages i gave her but anyway shes down to 26 hit points #shes gonna be feeling that for a whiiiile #double also im sorry if theres typos etc pls dont tell me im so tired

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aphrodaisyacs · 6 years

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Summary:

He’s probably going to die. Using the Infinity Stone might burn him inside out to the point of no return. Maybe he’ll lose control and he’ll send them both flying to their deaths, until their bodies float endlessly through the icy unforgivable vacuum of space.

But it’s better than the certainty of having his last breath crushed out of his throat in Thanos’ grip.

Tesseract between his blistered fingers, he thinks about safety and pulls.

Or: The one where Loki isn’t dumbed down for plot reasons and the Butterfly Effect ensues

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply Category: Gen Fandom: The Avengers (Marvel Movies) Characters: Loki (Marvel), Thor (Marvel), Heimdall (Marvel), Wanda Maximoff, Bruce Banner, Thanos (Marvel), Stephen Strange, Tony Stark, James "Bucky" Barnes, Guardians of the Galaxy Team, Steve Rogers, T'Challa (Marvel), Peter Parker Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fix-It, Shitstorm with a Happy Ending, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, POV Multiple, Loss of Limbs, Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Spoilers, Canon-Typical Violence

This was supposed to be a one-shot but it bullied its way into becoming a multi-chapter so here’s the first one!!

@pinato @ellcwrites @pretty-tsundere-cactus

If you prefer reading on tumblr, the full chapter is below:

It’s not enough, the realisation is a sickening weight in Loki’s stomach. His bones ache from exhaustion, his arms burn from the depletion of his magic. He tastes ash, smoke and blood in the air and between his lips. The ground shakes and the Hulk roars.

But it’s not enough.

Even the great green beast, the strongest, most indestructible, terrifying, the Champion ‒ their last hope against Thanos’ raw power. He isn’t enough.

He’s bent over Thor as if his brother could actually be protected by his weakened body. He knows that Thor too, had completely burnt out all of his lightning and is teetering on the edge of consciousness.

They are going to die. Except…

The soft blue glow of the Tesseract is harsh in its salience. He can reach it. The Space Stone‒ he can use it. Jump through space. Jump to somewhere where there’s help. Somewhere they can stall just long enough where they can recover, gather their strength…

Loki looks over at where Heimdall had fallen. He is met with golden eyes burning with resignation, hope, and the determination to carry out one final act of defiance. Those eyes slide over to the Hulk’s losing battle. Loki feels a pang in his chest. He knows what he must do.

He’s gripping Thor so hard his knuckles somehow turn even whiter. He reaches out to the Tesseract.

But it’s better than the certainty of having his last breath crushed out of his throat in Thanos’ grip.

Tesseract between his blistered fingers, he thinks about safety and pulls.

The world tugs and swirls around him, but panic reverberates through his entire being when he sees Corvus lunge at them right as the ship dissolves into the vacuum of space.

They land amongst floating rocks.

Corvus immediately thrusts his weapon at Loki, but he is blocked with a punch from Thor. The two of them grapple with each other, sending each other’s weightless bodies flying into a boulder.

Loki barely registers the blue creeping onto his fingertips as he summons his last knife. He kicks off against a nearby rock, propelling himself towards the two struggling figures.

He drives the knife through Corvus’ skull.

Corvus stills. His grip on his weapon loosens.

Loki doesn’t think twice before snatching the spear out of the already stiffening grip.

Thor pushes Corvus’ body away, then ducks to avoid a rock the size of his head. Loki grabs onto his brother’s armour before the idiot can send himself crashing into another rock.

Why are we here, he sees Thor mouthing. He can’t answer, and it’s not just because the vacuum would suck his voice away. He doesn’t know why he sent them to the remains of Asgard (he does). It is little more than pile of rocks (it used to be home, safety, even when it became his prison). He’d wasted some of his last remaining drops of energy (he’d wasted it on sentiment).

He can’t even muster the strength to react when he looks down and sees that his hands had turned completely blue. Instead, he draws in absolutely everything left in him and pulls at the Tesseract once more.

This time, however, pain sears through his entire body and it is almost impossible to fight against the Tesseract pulling right back at him.

He barely registers Thor’s horrified expression before everything fades to black.

The Guardians stare at the man they’ve picked up from the debris. He returns their stares with a steady golden gaze.

“So‒ Heimdall,” Gamora begins, “Your ship had the Space Stone, but then its keeper used it to escape and left everyone else for dead?”

“No,” says Heimdall. “Half of the ship‒ nearly all of them non-combatants‒ were evacuated. And by then, the remaining half who stayed to fight were all killed by Thanos and the Black Order. Only four of us were left. Loki took Thor with him, but the moment the Space Stone slipped from his grasp, Thanos merely used the Power Stone to destroy the rest of the ship and left. I sent Banner to Midgard before the explosion hit.”

“I am Groot?” Groot asks, finally looking up from his game.

“Also known as Earth. Terra.”

Rocket’s jaw drops.

“You speak Groot?”

“Yes,” Heimdall says, tilting his head slightly forward in acknowledgement.

Peter clears his throat.

“I mean, Groot isn’t that hard to pick up,” he says, walking into the conversation with the casualness of a man trying too hard to be casual. “Like I was a natural at it back when Groot turned back into a little sapling.” He turns, only to be met with scrunched faces and raised eyebrows from his friends rather than the acknowledgement he was hoping for. The only indication of Heimdall’s mild bemusement is a miniscule furrow in his brows, which Peter takes as a challenge, if the way he straightens like a territorial swan is any indication.

“Why are you trying to make yourself look taller?” Mantis asks, antennae twitching curiously.

“What’re you talking about? This is how tall I am.” He broadly gestures at his entire body, which makes his hands accidently smack into Mantis. She gasps.

“You’re insecure!” She sounds delightfully surprised by her discovery. “And jealous.”

“What?” Peter exclaims. “No I’m not!”

“Peter!” Gamora cuts in, not even bothering to mask her annoyance. When the entire ship falls silent, she sighs.

“The entire time I knew Thanos he only ever had one goal: to bring balance to the universe by wiping out half of all life. He used to kill people planet by planet, massacre by massacre…”

“Including my own,” Drax softly adds.

“If he gets all six Infinity Stones, he can do it with the snap of his fingers.” Gamora punctuates it with a snap of her own. It echoes sharply in the silence of the ship. The aura of solemnity is blanketing its occupants, whose gazes and bodies are wilting from the gravity of their situation. Except for Heimdall, who is looking at Gamora thoughtfully.

“We need to stop him,” she continues. “Which means we need to know where he’s going next.”

“He is after the Reality Stone in Knowhere,” Heimdall says, finally breaking his silence.

“How would you know any of that?” Gamora asks sharply.

“Years ago, Asgard secretly entrusted it to the Elder Taneleer Tivan.” Upon seeing the Guardians’ blank looks, Heimdall adds, “You may know him as the Collector.”

“No way,” Peter says. “Only an idiot would give it to the Collector.”

“How do you know he won’t go after any of the other stones?” Gamora cuts in.

“My sight and hearing extends throughout the universe. Thanos is currently alone, and preparing for his journey towards Knowhere. If we are fast enough, we have a chance of arriving before him.”

Gamora chews her lip.

“Then does that mean you know where all the other stones are?”

“Time, Mind and now Space are on Midgard. He currently has the Power Stone, which leaves the Soul Stone.” Heimdall pauses. “But there must be some powerful magic guarding the Soul Stone, for I cannot see it.”

“So… even you don’t know where the Soul Stone is?” Only Heimdall manages to hear the artificial steadiness in Gamora’s voice.

“No, I do not.” He looks into her eyes and sees trepidation carefully hidden under layers of steel. He understands. And he dips his head apologetically. “I’m sorry.”

“Well, what are we waiting for?” Peter says, physically stepping between them. “Rocket! Let’s turn this thing around to Knowhere.”

“Oh are you kidding me, back to bossing me around now?” Rocket rolls his eyes but follows Peter to the cockpit anyway. “Come on, Groot, let’s go.”

A giant ring. Rubble. Destruction. Two grotesque figures, fanned by flames.

TONY STARK MISSING

It all flashes across the small screen, painful reminders that their stolen moments can be snatched back so abruptly, so messily, that their tentative blossom of hope get snagged and torn out as well.

Just a little more time. That was all they wanted.

But a blast of blue energy sends Vision flying into the pavement, shattering the peace of the cool night.

Wanda reacts by throwing her own red energy in the direction of the attack. She sees it hit an alien woman-like figure before she turns back to Vision, who is now stripped of his human skin and embedded into the stone road.

“I’m okay… I’m okay,” Vision wheezes as Wanda propels them both into a temporary hiding spot.

And he is, Wanda realises once she’s done a quick scan on him using her powers. The blast of blue energy appears to have done little more than leaving him winded and breathless.

When the alien woman attacks again, Wanda makes herself as much of a target for the hits and blows as she can. The woman may be physically tougher and faster than her, but in between ducking the three-pronged spear, Wanda dredges up her powers and her hand-to-hand training from the Black Widow and Captain America.

They’re evenly matched.

(Thank god the woman seems to be alone)

Eventually Vision joins the fight, and while the woman is too busy deflecting his golden beam from the Mind Stone, Wanda seeps her magic into the woman’s mind.

Sleep, she wills.

The woman crumples to the ground.

Wanda watches the woman stir as she feels the last vestiges of her magic run its course. The woman had been bound once Steve, Sam and Natasha arrived and though Natasha’s the only one who stayed behind to help watch over their unconscious captive, Steve and Sam are still nearby, dealing with the alien spaceship they had found parked above the train station.

Wanda’s pulse quickens as they watch the woman tug at her restraints, snarling when she’s unable to budge the vibranium even with her strength.

Natasha begins the interrogation, and Wanda summons a small cloud of magic around her clenched fists, just in case.

But the woman’s demeanour suddenly changes, her hot anger hardening to ice cold apathy. She merely rolls her eyes at Natasha’s attempts to talk to her, and she looks almost bored at the red energy crackling at Wanda’s fingertips. Instead, she silently stares at Vision with an intensity that causes him to self-consciously reach up to the stone on his forehead.

Wanda feels a surge of anger at the woman. The nerve of her, and whoever she is working for, to feel entitled to the stones and their power, as if it justifies all the death, all the destruction they have caused.

She almost doesn’t notice Steve approaching their corner and Sam landing next to him. The woman seems to be aware of them too, because she finally breaks her silence with laughter. The sound sends a crawling sensation down Wanda’s neck. Natasha swings the prongs of the trident at the woman’s throat in warning, letting the tips pierce her skin until three thin trails of dark blue run down her neck. The only indication of pain is a short gasp, which is quickly replaced by a feral grin.

“You’re no match for Thanos. He’s far more powerful than you can ever imagine. The stones belong to him, and he’ll restore balance to the universe. It doesn’t matter if you kill me here, because you won’t be able to stop him.”

Natasha hums.

“Is that so?”

The woman juts her chin out, seemingly ignorant to the way the gesture made the prongs sink further into her throat.

Natasha exchange glances with Steve. His expression is unreadable, but his crossed arms tense up slightly. Wanda feels her stomach drop.

Natasha gives the trident a final push.

A sharp crack.

A hoarse gasp.

A body crumples to the ground.

part 2

#marvel #infinity war #infinity war fix it #loki #thor #heimdall #guardians of the galaxy #wanda maximoff #daisy's fics #swh

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