#i don't need to add another muse i whisper
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fyrewalks · 6 months ago
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i am thinking about javi and his home life and what would've led him to choosing the military after everything. like, i get him being lost and confused and needing some direction. the structure and the order were probably a comfort. but like, do we think he grew up with the idea of 'you're choices are military or college after high school'? bc why not something like the peacecorps or some other nonprofit he can loose himself in in an attempt to lessen the survivor's guilt. like, do you think he grew up with the idea that to have value, you have to make a name for yourself? which is so interesting to me bc it's kind of at odds with who we first see him as - the long hair, kind of lazy and uninspired (just wants to eat chips and chill), loves his tech but maybe not the work that goes along with it, loves kate but never says anything?? like he's not presented as a real go getter, but then here he is after five years and the military with this fancy company. is it just the trauma that led to some different life choices or is he finally trying to meet expectations?? i am just having some thoughts here.
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amongemeraldclouds · 2 months ago
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sober solutions to drunk discoveries
After a drunken kiss blurs the line of friendship, you and Mattheo get in the way of your happiness, prompting Enzo to play matchmaker.
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Mattheo Riddle x f!Reader
Part two to nine shots of firewhiskey, can also be read as a standalone.
Content: fluff, slight angst, spicy but no smut, characters aged up
✿ Masterlist | ✿ Mattheo Riddle Masterlist | 2.5k words
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The faint smell of alcohol invaded your senses, growing more pungent as seconds ticked past. The moment you dared to open your eyes, regret flashed through you along with the bright sun that assaulted your vision, hammering drum beats into your skull.
You shifted, burying your face in the pillow, its softness welcoming you back. Except you shouldn't have spun so fast for the entire world itself spun around you. You could have sworn you've never been caught in a tornado before, yet that's exactly what it felt like.
You grabbed the first thing within reach: a muscular arm. It was enough to steady you, anchoring you in place. In the sudden calm, you could finally hear your thoughts: why was there a well chiseled arm wrapped around you? Why did it feel good? What were you doing feeling up someone's arm?
Oh, this arm belonged to Mattheo Riddle. Words drenched in alcohol dripped into your mind like lazy morning dew, "you don't want to fuck me?" You asked Mattheo last night, your eyes wide and body burning with lust and inebriation.
Now it burned with shame. Forget coffee and tonics. Never underestimate the unbridled force of humiliation to knock your senses back into you.
Not for the first time, you wondered which gods you had angered to have incurred another set of misfortune. It was bad enough to be that heartbroken girl who got stuck in detention, sunk her grades, and nearly got disowned by her parents. You also had to be the girl who practically begged your best friend to fuck you.
You shrunk, cringing inwardly as you inched away from beneath the blanket, careful not to wake Mattheo. You breathed a sigh of relief when you landed clumsily with a thud on the floor. The cool air kissed your skin, reminding you to retrieve your blouse from where it lay crumpled on the bed.
A figure stirred from the other end of the room, a bleary eyed Lorenzo stared at you with his sleep-toussled hair. You instinctively wrapped your arms across your chest.
"You didn't see anything!" You whispered, trying to get ahead of him.
He blinked then repeated your words, "I didn't see anything."
"Stop screaming!" you hissed, moving away from Mattheo, blouse in hand.
"I'm not, I'm whispering!" Enzo shot back, arms raised.
"Well whisper softer!"
You turned around, fastening the blouse back on. You had been friends with Enzo long enough to feel his eyes roll from behind you.
"Just use my coat," he whispered and you nodded.
You turned back, "thank you, go back to sleep. I was never here. I'll return this later."
You snuck off, leaving behind the sleepy boy and the boy you love. It was too early to deal with the weight of your feelings. Feelings were reserved for midnight musings. When the sun was up, you had to lists to cross off, grades to earn back, a reputation to salvage, and feelings to avoid. For starters, you desperately needed a shower.
Enzo looked at the spot you just vacated then watched Mattheo, wondering what happened last night. It wasn't like you to sneak off that way, but he knew better than to get involved. You and Mattheo were bound to drag him into it anyway, the least he could do was be well rested for the chaos.
As he went back to sleep, Enzo smiled. You seemed back to your usual self, if a bit jumpier. It was still a win.
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The second the bell chimed, you snapped your book shut and were halfway through the classroom, robe fluttering behind you in style. You were eager to be the first one out so you didn't have to run into Mattheo.
It did not add up. Mattheo was your safe space, your confidant, and partner in crime. And yet, something had changed last night. Insecurities swarmed through your head faster than you could outrun them.
What if Mattheo only said he'd be yours because he felt sorry for you? What if it was just a drunken illusion that vanished with sobriety? What if you were better off as friends? You couldn't risk another heartbreak so soon.
A sudden collision brought you back to the present moment as your books crashed onto the floor. "Sorr-" you started when you saw those familiar curls again. Except you now knew how soft they felt between your fingers and you ached to reach out. To be close to him again.
"Hey," Mattheo breathed out. Your eyes travelled straight to his lips, his usual smirk now skewed and awkward. You already missed how they felt against your lips, tender and wild. Your breath caught in your lungs. As luck would have it, you bumped into the very wizard you were trying to avoid. With all your effort to evade him in class, you had completely missed the fact that Mattheo had been skiving off.
You lowered yourself as a distraction and started collecting your books as you gathered your thoughts.
"Mattheo, I-" you started and reached out when he handed you your book. Without meaning to, your fingers brushed against his and your heart was picking up speed again, drumming to the beat of his name. It was too much to handle. "-have to go." You ended your sentence and walked away, resisting the urge to run.
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"You have got to stop torturing Riddle," Enzo plopped down the chair beside you.
"I did no such thing," you shot back, your friendship long past the usual pleasantries of 'hi's and 'hello's. "What's he up to this time?"
"He's been prattling on about you at the Astronomy Tower, an entire bottle of firewhiskey in hand. We've got to get him back down," Enzo explained.
Concern spread through you like wildfire, but you hesitated, your insecurities weighing you down. "I don't know if I'm the one who can help him."
Enzo sighed, "What really happened last night?"
"We maybe sort of kind of," you began, "kissed."
"Fina-fucking-ly!" Enzo slammed his hand on the table, the bang echoing across the library. Annoyed faces were directed at him and the librarian's stern gaze burned through his skull. He smiled at them apologetically, turning on his charm.
"What do you mean?" You asked, bringing him back to your conversation.
"Oh come on, y/n," he rolled his eyes. "Everyone knows you and Mattheo are end game, even Cedric could see it too. Fuck that twat for how he dealt with it, you didn't deserve that. But you and Mattheo, it's bound to happen like snow in winter or snakes shedding skin."
"You did not just compare me to snake skin," you scoffed, the weight of his words sinking in.
"Stop deflecting, I said what I said. He likes you, you like him. I don't see the problem," he opened his hands wide to emphasize his point.
"Great, now I feel stupid," you exclaimed.
"And Mattheo's being a tosser up at the Astronomy Tower, you two were truly made for each other."
"Lorenzo Bekrshire, you're a wonderful friend, aren't you?" You replied sweetly, your words laced with sarcasm. "Come on, let's rescue that wanker."
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You slowed as you reached the final steps of the Astronomy Tower, the evening breeze cooling you down while your heart pounded in your chest. There was no backing out now, certainly not after going up those long flights of steps. Your legs were jelly from the effort and the anticipation of facing your fears.
You looked tentatively at Enzo, who nodded his support. Just before you took another step, he gently placed his hand around your arm.
"This is where I'll leave you two to figure things out. Lay it all out and don't hold back. It's good advice for sharing your feelings and throwing up. You'll feel better afterwards."
Your eyebrows crinkled, "but I can't haul his drunk arse down the stairs myself."
"Just follow my advice, that'll sober him up. Except for the throwing up part, that one's for Riddle," he smirked.
You opened your mouth to respond, but Enzo quickly raised his finger.
"No more stalling. Look, I've got this date tonight and I won't be back until tomorrow morning. So have fun, yeah? Tell Mattheo, he better not screw it up. I'm running out of coats." With that, he turned and started walking downstairs.
You took a deep breath and steeled yourself. It didn't make sense that your entire world just blew up months ago. Being with Cedric felt like a lifetime ago, and there in front of you, was your potential future.
Your heart ached at the memory of your kiss. A kiss more potent than nine shots of firewhiskey in the way it breathed life into your world again. A lonely garden now teeming with the butterflies in your stomach and the blossoming of hope and desire. Feelings you had nearly forgotten about.
You approached carefully, crouching down across him as he took another swig from the bottle.
"Oh there you are again," Mattheo slurred, swiping the back of his hand across his mouth. Your eyes followed the movement as you resisted the urge to reach out to him and kiss him again.
Before you had a chance to respond, he continued. "Of course you're there too, I was just talking to you here," he gestured to the empty space beside him. "I tried not to think about you, you know? You're my fucking best friend. To which I mean that as a cuss word, not that we're best friends who fuck, because we're not. Even though I want us to, which you do too!" He dramatically gestured to you and that space beside him again before going on.
"But you were drunk and I didn't know if you'd still want me when you're sober. And can I be honest? I didn't want to just fuck you. It sounds crass and I know that's ironic coming from me, but..." he trailed off as he stared at you.
"I'm sorry, look at your eyes! You're so beautiful and for the first time, I don't want to fuck. I want all the soppy bullshit poets write about divine dances and souls entangled. Load of bollocks if you ask me, but it makes sense with you. Why is that?"
You blinked, trying to catch up with his drunken ramblings. "So last night, you didn't think I was pathetic?"
"What? You are many things y/n, but never pathetic," he replied. "Anyone would have broken down if they went through everything you did and I wanted to hold you together, but you just got up. Day after day, you got up and you went on. You cried and you screamed and we drank, but then you went on. Do you have any idea how brave you have to be just to do that?"
Tears filled your eyes at his words. He was always more honest when he was drunk but it still caught you off guard how the boy with dark eyes and a dangerous smile hid an entire universe within him.
"No, no, no, hey hey," Mattheo reached forward as a tear slipped down your cheek. "I always fuck things up, don't I?" He said, cupping your face to wipe off the tear. "This is why we're better off as best friends even though I've liked you for a while now. I'll just drink my whiskey and talk to this imagined version of you."
You suddenly quirked an eyebrow and tried not to laugh. He was so adorable, you hated the roller coaster of emotions you were on but no longer wanted to walk away from. "Can figments of imagination cry?"
"Well they never did except for you, so that's new. Unless..." he trailed off, the gears in his head spinning albeit rusty from the alcohol. You watched patiently as his eyes widened and crimson flooded his cheeks. "You're real, aren't you?"
"Only one way to find out," you said as you closed the distance between you and kissed him. Of course it was a lie. There were so many ways to find out, but fuck it you just needed to kiss him. And there it was again, more potent than nine shots of firewhiskey. It was an eternity you could live in forever.
The weight of the kiss sank deep in Mattheo's bones, grounding him from the drunken haze in his head. Your kiss was sobering and intoxicating at the same time, a delicious cocktail of emotions that far outweighed the experience of drinks and drugs. You may have ruined it for him forever and he didn't mind it one bit.
Mattheo held you close as he kissed you, one hand at the back of your head, the other wrapped around your waist as you straddled him. It was always inevitable, wasn't it? Falling for you. You with your beautiful face, the way you made him laugh, and how he felt at home with you. His heart never stood a chance.
For once, he wanted to move past his flaws and fears, so he could finally allow himself to want you. He felt it with the intensity at which he sucked your bottom lip, asking to be let in. You gasped at his boldness and his tongue darted in to explore your mouth. He may be good at fucking shit up, but for you he wanted to try.
A grunt escaped his throat when you rocked your hips against him and you were rewarded with the growing length you felt in his pants. Your fingers were wrapped in his curls while the other moved around his arm, feeling up his muscles again.
You needed to finish your conversation before you allowed yourself to go further. Reeling in your desires, you broke up for air. You were surprised when this didn't deter Mattheo as he kissed your jaw instead, planting delicate kisses down your neck. You sighed in pleasure, ready to let go of the words, but you needed to reassure him.
"Mattheo Riddle, my sweet Matty, you should know you don't just screw things up. You bring so much life and energy wherever you go and I'm so happy I get to be around you a lot. You're a firecracker, Riddle."
"For you darling, I'll be a fucking nebula," he said, his lips swollen and hair disheveled. You took a moment to drink him all in and admire your handiwork.
Tiny fireworks exploded in your chest at his words and you giggled at how sweet he was when he was drunk, both on alcohol and in love. "Now what was it you told me last night? I'm sober and I still want you so"
"I'm all yours," he completed the sentence, kissing you again.
In between kisses, you asked, "and what exactly did the poets mean about divine dances and soul entanglements?"
Mattheo gave a low chuckle, "oh princess, I'm no fucking poet, let me show you instead."
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✿ Masterlist | ✿ Mattheo Riddle Masterlist
A/N: This is the first time I've written a part two for a fic. Matchmaking Enzo is my fave!
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raising-harmony · 3 months ago
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[In-person scene.]
[Concordia sits anxiously on the edge of the guestroom bed, idly swinging her legs back and forth. She peeks up as soon as Alder pokes his head into the room.
"You wanted to talk about something?" He asks carefully, grabbing a chair from the nearby desk and taking a seat.
"M..mhm.. well- I.. just had a question, sir." She murmurs, still kicking her legs, now fiddling with her ponytail as well as she looks down. Then looks at the open door. Then looks to Alder. Her voice is soft and cautious, maybe worried any one of her siblings may pop in and hear her. "A-am I.. a bad person? If I told a lie that got someone hurt?"
Alder straightens out a bit. He's gonna assume she's referring to the very same lie Anthea alluded to a few nights ago- although, he's still not privy to what exactly that entailed. Did it relate to Ghetsis? Probably, but he doesn't wanna jump the sharpedo here.. "... Did you mean for them to get hurt?"
"No!" Concordia gasps, gripping her ponytail.
"Then what was the lie for, kiddo..?"
"I-it.." She looks down again, evidently fumbling. "It was just so N and Anthea would run away faster, but it meant w-we left our father behind too.." Her shoulders slump a bit as she speaks, and gradually, she changed from having a death-grip on her hair to slowly petting over it. "I don't know if I did the right thing." She adds in a whisper.
Oh.. Alder takes a moment to process it, then sighs. "So this is what your argument was about..?" He muses. As he thinks, his eyes fix absently on the wall, decorated with woven pieces of art. Truthfully, he feels like he needs just the tiniest bit of more info before he can make a true judgement on whether or not Concordia did the right thing. He thinks back to prior messages he got on Ghetsis blog, though: implying the kids didn't very well know the extent of their father's injuries, or maybe even the fact that he was injured at all. And running down his train of thought, he abruptly recognizes that even if he were to come to the conclusion that she had made the wrong decision- that wasn't what she needed to hear. They can't undo it now, and.. she's just a kid. She doesn't need the weight of having someone's life in her hands, especially not her own father's.
Concordia is restless in his silence. After a moment, he props an elbow on his knee, leaning forward a bit. ".. you're definitely not a bad person for that, Concordia." He says, trying to offer the girl a somber smile of reassurance. "Like you said.. you were trying to help your brother and sister. I don't know the full story, but I can hardly imagine any extra details that would make me think otherwise."
"....." She hesitates. She doesn't look completely satisfied. ".. I'm sorry to-- bother you. I shouldn't. You don't really know us."
Alder shrugs. "No, I don't. But I'm not bothered, either. I just want you kids to feel alright, even though its already a bad situation."
Concordia stays silent. She seems like she's still got a lot to say, judging by the look on her face, but Alder doesn't know how- or if he even should- coax it out of her. So they're quiet, with only the background noise of Anthea and Ryuki fiddling with their guitars filling in the space. Alder wonders, briefly, where N is in the house.
"I have another question." She says suddenly.
"Mhm?"
"S.. should I still apologize? To Anthea? She's so upset with me. What can I even say..?"
He doesn't even really know. There's so much turmoil between the two, both internal and external, he's not sure what words could actually rectify it. ".. Just tell her what you told me. That you were trying to help her and N." He offers, uncertain.
"I-I already did, though.." She looks and sounds defeated.
".. Ah." Alder sighs. Again. He scratches at his neck, an awkward silence lulling between the two. It makes him want to cringe; he's failing again. He doesn't know how to parent, it doesn't come naturally to him.
Meanwhile, this revelation terrifies Concordia a bit. If that was all she could say, and Anthea still didn't want to hear it, what did that mean for her? Was she going to never forgive her? Hate her forever? They were always so close, she didn't think anything could tear them apart, but--
"Maybe now that she's calmed down a bit, she'd be more willing to hear it again." Alder says suddenly, cutting through her thoughts. "Shoot, maybe she's already thought about it a bit and is starting to realize you just wanted to help. Just.. Go to her, and say you're sorry. And why you're sorry. You didn't mean to leave Ghetsis behind, you were scared for her, N, and yourself, and panicked. Let her know that you love her and you don't want to fight, you want to be close again." He thinks.. about Ryuki, as he speaks. He thinks about standing before doors as they slam in his face and lock, and the fact that he can hear his kid sobbing behind them, and no words will reach him at all. No apologies to fix the shame or frustration Ryuki felt, the betrayal. How it seemed more and more like a useless endeavor to reach out to his son until one day he stopped trying. He can't imagine seeing that happen again, now between two sisters rather than father and son.
"... Family's important." His voice is soft, and he can hear sadness seeping into his own tone. He tries to keep it light so Concordia doesn't notice. "I'm sure Anthea knows this. You just have to go and talk to her."
Concordia stares at him, her eyes wide, expression hard to read. Then she glances away, hopping off of the bed. ".. Can I do it now?"
"Whenever you feel ready, kiddo. It's up to you."
She nods, and takes a little bow. "Okay. I-- I'm gonna do it now, then. Thank you."
"No problem, Concordia. Good luck." He smiles to her before she trots off, though his chest is a bit heavy. He's tired, admittedly. Taking care of four kids on your own is a lot.]
[End scene.]
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judasrpc · 1 year ago
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LYRIC STARTERS BASED ON MY CURRENT "ON REPEAT" SONGS
aka, subtly exposing my music taste by slamming a bunch of songs onto one post, even if these probably exist as separate ones somewhere. the sections will be separated by the song titles & artists. this only includes my top 10, because we would be here forever if i included any more.
add context & change gendered language to your needs !! if multi, please specify which muse(s) !!
INVISIBLE - DURAN DURAN
" Living without choice is a life without a voice. "
" Has the memory gone? Are you feeling numb? "
" Will you say my name? "
" Hindsight is falling on my face. "
" When you don't hear a word I say […] "
" But a voiceless crowd isn't backing down. "
"Can you say my name? "
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FLIGHT OF THE CROWS - JHARIAH
" I cannot help but think I've overstayed my welcome. "
" The company's quite nice on crimson nights like these. "
" Well, I think that I've gotta go, and I don't know why. "
" I need you to promise that you won't cry. "
" Let those old memories go. "
" Please understand that I will find a brand new life. "
" So just let me out of your mind. "
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BLOOD UPON THE SNOW - HOZIER & BEAR MCCREARY
" Nature offers a violence. "
" The world that hardens as the harsher winter holds. "
" The ground walked here is a wonder. "
" And all things nature's given; she takes all things back from the living. "
" I've walked the earth, and there are so few here that know. "
" It's not my arms that will fail me. "
" This world takes more strength than it gave me. "
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RISK, RISK, RISK - JHARIAH
" We would've never worked out together. "
" Wager all you've got, and run me all that shit. "
" I can't take another day! I need some change. "
" There's things you just can't see with such precautious eyes. "
" I don't think I need to tell you; you'll see me when I do. "
" Better bite your tongue! "
"I don't second-guess a vision. "
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EAT YOUR YOUNG - HOZIER
" Let me wrap my teeth around the world. "
" I want to feel the edges start to burn. "
" If there's something to be gained, there's money to be made. "
" Throw enough rope until the legs have swung. "
" You can't buy this fineness. "
" If there's something still to take, there is ground to break. "
" Putting food on the table selling bombs and guns. "
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CARELESS WHISPER - GEORGE MICHAEL
" I feel so unsure. "
" Something in your eyes calls to mind a silver screen, and all its sad goodbyes. "
" Though it's easy to pretend, I know you're not a fool. "
" To the heart and mind, ignorance is kind. "
" But there's no comfort in the truth, pain is all you'll find. "
" I wish that we could lose this crowd. "
" We could have been so good together. "
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APOCALYPTICISM - MOON WALKER
" We fight fire with silence and pray somebody hears. "
" No one said the world can't change in just a couple nights. "
" We want a revolution, but only with condition. "
" He came baring the heart of a liar; wearing the face of an honest man. "
" Start feeding the dogs of war. "
" We're in your head and hiding in plain sight. "
" But I don't see any difference, they both look the same to me. "
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DIGITAL SILENCE - PETER MCPOLAND
" I won't ask a question; I'll state the truth. "
" This is the way that it is. "
" Something you love turns to something you miss. "
" This is the way that I know. "
" I feel it inside me like a pulse; it's starting to slow and the meter dips. "
" This is the sound of the truth. "
" There is nothing you can do. "
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KINGSLAYER - BRING ME THE HORIZON & BABYMETAL
" Are you looking for the other side? "
" I need to know where your loyalties lie. Tell me, are you gonna bark, or bite? "
" Wipe the system and back the fuck up. "
" You are modified. "
" You're a puppet! When they cut your strings off, don't come crawling back. "
" You're on your own. "
" I'll fight for you until I die. "
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I'M AFRAID I'LL GO TO HEAVEN - MOON WALKER
" I don't wanna live forever, 'cause I don't want what's coming next. "
" Don't think we stand taller together, 'cause half of us ain't got no spine. "
" My biggest fear ain't no red Devil, it's being near you people all the time. "
" I'll be fine as long as you go somewhere else. "
" They tell you truth is what you make it. "
" It's like we don't even gotta try no more. "
" I'm sure your god would love to keep it white, but I think that me and mine will be alright. "
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shmowder · 6 months ago
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I have no intention of stealing the show from squirrel anon (if you're reading this, I'm always happy for your ideas about Yulia, luv u <3), but since today we have a fair of unprecedented generosity I want to add something from myself. I have a weak spot in the form of using foreign words in speech and accents. Which characters could use this as a seduction tactic? I'm not hinting at anything, but Andrey could very well purr in Italian I assume.
🧡 anon
That invitation to share ideas was meant for everyone, not just squirrel anon, dw you're more than welcome here!
Andrey, the self-proclaimed renaissance man, will purr in any language in takes for you to part your legs and make space for himself in-between.
He'd recite French poetry in your ear before switching to Italian and whispering absolute filth about how he plans to take you like no man before him ever did, like no man before him ever will.
He will ruin you for every else, you will never be satisfied with another lover after laying with him, mark his words.
It's easy to forget how smart he is, quick to learn and adapt to new language. That man will spend one night with you, hear you slip up and say a word in a different language–maybe your mother tongue—and spend the rest of the week studying it in his free time. Picking up just enough words and general understanding to confidentiality talk dirty to you with it in bed.
He can be a romantic as much as he can be crude. Calling you his muse, his eurydice or even his slut.
Andrey is not afraid of deliberately targeting your kinks. Noticing the way your breath slows down when his voice gets lower.
The way he enraptures you whole by purring a different language against your neck, reciting foreign poems while leaving hickeys down your collarbone, sucking against your senses skin. As seductive as the devil in all of his earned confidence and seamless charm.
-
Aglaya is another character that comes to mind. Inquisitors need to be resourceful and knowledgeable, picking up a foreign language or five must have been mandatory in her training. They're problem solvers, they must be ready to sent wherever they are needed.
She was simply sharing one of her favourite poems with you, a fitting one for the current trial she's facing. It was in a foreign tongue, yet she smoothly recited it, a crisp pronunciation on the first try.
The effect it had on you, however subtle, doesn't pass her by. In a split second she puts two and two together, while 99.9% assured in her conclusion, she still tries to test her theory.
Taking one, two, three steps forward, invading your personal space just enough, tiptoeing the line of intimacy. She asks if you'd like to hear another piece from the same poet, your eager nod confirms her suspicions.
Aglaya adds that the content of this poem is rather sexual, it wouldn't be appropriate for her to speak it out loud in a cathedral now, would it?
So why don't you get closer, allow her to whisper it in your ear. Feel her lips brush against your earlobe, her warm breath tickling your neck for a second, her arm securely wrapped around your waist, keeping you in place by her side.
You're breathless after this one simple act. It's fascinating to her how intense your reaction is to mere foreign words.
The price of the next poem is a kiss. Let her cup your face and indulge in the taste of your lips for her heart's content, pour all of her usually stifled emotions into it.
For the one after that, she asks to feel your heartbeat, to lay her hand against your chest, directly atop your ribcage, and listen to the fragle organ pumping blood. You feel her hands roaming up and down your body.
It gets her off, don't worry about it.
Now how about the two of you move this to her private residence?
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coldshrugs · 1 year ago
Text
triple play
pairing: io laithe / estinien varlineau setting: modern au word count: 2.2k [divider credit]
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February 7th - Estinien
The first baseball game of the season is fast approaching, and the Knights buzz with a mixture of excitement and anxiety.
The locker room is louder than usual, but Estinien doesn't mind. He likes this part. It's the same every year: the giddy tension, the unconditional camaraderie before the finger-pointing starts, the desire to do well and, maybe, catch an eye or two in the process...
Only a week away now.
What he doesn't like is the feeling of Aymeric's glare boring into the back of his head.
"What?" he asks, trying his best to sound even, unbothered, as he puts away his gear.
Aymeric makes an evasive little sound. "Just thinking. Musing, if you will."
He punctuates this with the sharp sound of his locker closing.
Estinien sighs. This is bait. Somehow, this is bait, and he will take it and most likely regret it. He shuts his own locker with a metallic clang and drops to the bench between them.
"Fine. What's on your mind?"
Aymeric tosses a towel around his shoulders, beaming triumphantly and pausing for what Estinien can only guess is dramatic effect. "Did you ask her?"
If Aymeric's stare needled his skin, that is nothing compared to the itch caused by the sideways glances thrown at him now.
This is the same year after year, too—the whispered locker room gossip, all of them eager for some minor detail about so-and-so's tits or who the hookup of the month is. He's never been one to share that much; besides, there's nothing to tell.
Still… another kind of anticipation swells in his chest, similar to the usual pre-game nervousness, but one he doesn't share with the others. He wishes the 'her' in Ayms' question wasn't so readily implied. Anyone else would've needed a name, but after knowing her only a few months, Io is an assumption.
Most of the others are minding their business again, so he answers:
"Yeah." He keeps his voice low. "I asked her. She's coming." Then he adds, "She's bringing someone."
Aymeric leans against the row of lockers. "And? You brought me to her concert. Don't worry too much about it."
But he's not worried. There's nothing to worry about, is there? It's pretty cut and dry. "I keep telling you... me and Io, we're friends. That's all she wa—"
"Io?"
The voice comes from a few people away. Maybe he wasn't as quiet as he thought.
Haurchefant leans past a set of shoulders before pushing over to them. "You know Io? Laithe?"
"Might just be a common name," Ayms shrugs, but anyone can see he's already enjoying whatever this is.
Estinien shoots him a dark look—great, thanks, this is exactly a conversation I wanted to have—then nods to Haurchefant.
"Not super well or anything."
"Oh, come on." Aymeric laughs. "Hasn't known her long, but definitely knows her well."
Estinien wipes a hand over his face. "Don't say it like that. She's a friend from—" Hm, he doesn't want to put her life story out there to some guy on his baseball team. "—we're in a club, I guess, outside of school."
"Oh," Haurche glances between Estinien and Aymeric, and his tension fades when the latter doesn't react. "Sweet. We, uh, dated for a few months a while back, but I haven't heard from her in over a year. After the—" his voice breaks, and Estinien figures he doesn't want to drag her painful history up either. "Well, anyway... How is she?"
For the briefest moment, their eyes lock, and they have something else in common. Something outside of this team. The warmth he felt at the thought of sharing something more about himself with her, that almost pleasant anxiety, it starts to blister, flashing white-hot across his neck and climbing to his face.
His eyes narrow. He doesn't want to say anything.
Io trusts easily, even when she's hurting (especially when she's hurting). If she wanted Haurchefant to know how she was doing, she'd have talked to him by now. There must be a reason she hasn't.
His chest tingles again, fluttering with something tiny and warm—he is the person she talks to, confides in. Sure, they both have Haven, but outside of that... Well, maybe Aymeric isn't wrong for assuming.
Estinien stands from the bench and peels off his soiled shirt. Before he heads to the showers, he gives Haurchefant the only answer he thinks is warranted. "Doing better."
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February 10th - Haurchefant
He met Io at a Spring Break party in freshman year, where he spent far too much of the night watching her quietly hold up the corners of some upperclassman's rented condo. He felt like he knew everything there was to know about her right away, a symptom of that bright melancholy distinctly found in art school girls, like she was only waiting on fate to catch up to her. Maybe the reality of her was less interesting than his half-baked conclusion, but god, her smile.
He was so nervous to talk to her.
They hit it off, in a careful way. Started dating, started kissing, fooled around a bit. But it was so... polite. Almost obligatory. Maybe they wouldn't have lasted anyway, but then, whether she wanted it or not, fate caught up to her. Her whole family was lost in the crash, and she ghosted him.
A slow fade.
Haurchefant has never had trouble with moving on. He finds the bright side and forgets the rest. No, this is unlike him, still thinking about something long in the past, even with such a hazy ending.
But Varlineau?
Seriously?
Haurchefant always found him tactless and a bit fumbling. And he had no right to pull his smug avoidance thing right after downplaying whatever point Aymeric was trying to make. A "club?"
Estinien Varlineau is not in a fucking club, extracurricular or not.
Whatever.
Haurchefant pulls out his phone and stares at the long-dead conversation thread between him and Io. He was the last to text, of course. Some cliche "I realize this is over, but I wish you the best" thing. He meant it. He still means it.
And that's why his unsure fingers dart across the keyboard now, typing and deleting the words until he has something fairly neutral.
He's surprised when she replies almost immediately.
HG: hey io. haven't heard from u in literally a year. i've been worried. u okay? IL: haurche, wow. it's actually really good to hear from you. IL: i'm not exactly okay, but i'm trying. getting help. HG: glad to hear it. i'm so sorry for ur loss. i don't think i can say it enough. IL: i think i've heard it enough for a lifetime, but thank you ♥ IL: and i'm really sorry for the way things went down. that was unfair. i think i knew that at the time, even in the depths of the pit. we were only together for a few months. it felt like putting too much on your plate HG: so u took away the plate. IL: so i took away the plate. like i said, unfair to you IL: i understand if there are hard feelings, but it means a lot that you're checking in. HG: no hard feelings, no grudges. i wish u would've let me be there for u, but i guess we won't know just how much my plate can handle. HG: unless... u want to grab coffee sometime? IL: lol, i'm deeply flattered you still consider me a viable dating option after witnessing me in a nearly catatonic state. IL: but i think i might be seeing someone? maybe? hard to say tbh. i've got valentine's plans tho, so we'll see. HG: yeah? we've got the same plans. i play baseball too, remember? HG: listen... just don't make too many assumptions with him. given the context, this sounds shitty, but he doesn't seem super into it IL: okay... thanks for your insight. and for the perspective on who you're actually worried about here. later.
His leg shakes hard enough to quake his bed. Fuck. That wasn't how he wanted this to go.
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February 14th - Estinien
From his place in the outfield, Estinien can't make out the faces in the stands. It's something he always tries to avoid anyway. Easier to imagine the crowd as one rippling, noisy entity instead of hundreds of people there to watch them perform. Even better if he pretends they're not there at all.
But today he can't keep his eyes from darting around the stadium in his downtime, hoping to catch a flash of deep blue. It's a distracting task, one that oppresses the next crack of the bat and when he sees the ball going long it's almost too late.
Oh, shit.
Shit, fuck, shit.
He tears after it. Faster. Faster than that, until he's feet away from the wall.
One more look up. He dives with an outstretched glove…
He crashes into the padded wall and doesn’t give himself time to react to the sharp little aches burning through his muscles. The weight in his gloved hand is all he considers—it’s an out. He slings the ball to Haurchefant at third and they take a second.
Now there’s time to feel it. His lungs are on fire. There’s a dull throb in his shoulder that will show as a bruise tomorrow. This game is the same as any other, he reminds himself while he catches his breath, hands on his hips. Doesn’t matter who’s watching.
The next batter is their third out and they’re off to a decent start. They run in, and there she is, grinning brightly as she waves to him.
Io sits next to Thancred, hands cupped around his mouth so his cheers carry farther, and something like relief swells in Estinien’s chest (not that he has any reason to be relieved). Estinien’s met him once, decent guy. One of her close friends.
He smiles back, throws his hand up as he heads into the dugout.
The rest of the game feels too long, but his focus returns. They win by two runs and it feels good to start the season on a high.
Afterwards, Io waits on the other side of the chainlink fence. She’s wearing a red flannel over a black dress and boots up to her knees, her hair falls messily out of its bun. He walks to meet her, lungs burning like he’s running again.
“Hey,” she says with a smile, elbows against the fence as she leans into it. “You were awesome out there.”
Estinien shakes his head. “We did alright.”
“You don’t like compliments.” Not a question. Io pauses, eyes darting around the stadium for a moment before falling back to him. A strand of windblown hair catches between her lips (he doesn’t look at her lips), and she pulls it away. “Thanks for inviting me. This was fun.”
“Yeah, I liked seeing you here. Thanks for coming.” He shifts his weight, leans against the fence next to her. “Where’s Thancred?”
“No idea. Probably saw someone cute with no Valentine’s date and decided to shoot his shot.”
Oh, god. Today is…
Estinien reigns in his expression before glancing over to Io. She doesn’t seem any different than the other times they’ve hung out. Her smile is as soft and warm as ever. As usual, her presence is comfortingly familiar, and just looking at her causes the sudden spike in his anxiety to ebb away.
Then her eyes flit down. 
He doesn’t think about why.
He can’t assume anything. That’s not fair.
He opens his mouth to ask if she wants to get out of here, grab some food, let him show her around his campus—anything—but someone walks by. Too close. Close enough to be on purpose.
“Varlineau,” Haurchefant grunts as he passes, and Estinien ignores a flare of annoyance in favor of a nod. Then Haurchefant's gaze slides to Io and darkens. “Io.”
“Hi Haurche,” she sighs, watching him go. The mood shifts, like all the warmth has been sucked out of the air around them, but he can't figure out why. If personal interactions were as easy to call as baseball, he’d guess she just lost this one.
When Haurchefant is gone, she stands from the fence. “I think I need to get back across town. Just remembered I’ve got a quiz due by midnight.”
“Oh,” he whispers. “Yeah, sure. Don’t drop the GPA on my account. I’ll see you later this week?”
“For sure. And this weekend, too, if you want to catch that movie I told you about.”
“You said I’d hate it,” he laughs. 
Io shrugs, walking backwards. “And don’t you want to prove me wrong?”
He shakes his head again. “No, I know you’re right. But whatever, we can watch it.”
“Nice. I’ll text you.” She beams, and that tightens his chest too. “It’s… not a date, right?”
Estinien watches her go, and maybe the little rush he felt before Haurchefant passed by was a fluke. The adrenaline after his win tangling with the weird sense of contentment that comes from simply being around Io. Those things must conflict somehow.
“Right,” he says to himself, resting his head against the cold metal fence (and there’s no reason to be disappointed).
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galexystern · 2 years ago
Text
butterfly wings
chapter three; fall 1984
pairing; steve harrington/eddie munson/reader aka steddie/reader, steve/reader, eddie/reader
rating; T
warnings; fluff, angst, au - canon divergence, fucked up the timeline a bit, smoking weed, shotgunning smoke
word count; 3.8k
desc; eddie gives you a nice surprise, steve gets to know you better, and all three of you share some smoke.
read on ao3 / series masterlist
Winter comes and goes. In fact, the whole rest of the school year comes and goes in a flash. The summer comes in hot and heavy, and you suffer in the sweltering bookstore. You swear that you'll get another job next summer if they don't add air conditioning. You beach it up with Nina and Mark. You and your friends take a road trip into Illinois and hit Chicago hard. You attend the annual Taste of Chicago and explore the State of Illinois Center. You even manage to find a gay bar—Jesse goes wild under your and Hailey's supervision and Vickie's awkward flirting somehow nags her a girl's number. She gets embarrassed every time any of you bring it up, but you can each tell she's proud too.
Junior year sneaks up on you and hits you like a freight train. It doesn't even slow down, just pushes you into the deep end as soon as it starts. You try out for the fall play and drag Jesse into auditioning too. Surprise—he loves it (he's an English nerd like you, so you knew he would). The difficulty dial turns up on all your classes except math, which has never been your strong suit. While you're stuck a year behind everyone else, you're pleasantly surprised to find Eddie in your class.
"Well hello there, stranger," he says as you take the desk next to his.
"Hi!" You exclaim, happy to have a friend in the class.
Eddie laughs at your enthusiasm. "That's the most excitement I've seen for a math class in a long time."
"Oh, yeah," you say sarcastically. "I'm all about math. I dream of it at night."
"And here I am, a fool for dreaming about you instead." He winks and you blush madly. You set up your notebook and pencil perfectly, just for something to do instead. You hear Eddie chuckle and then there's a loud handclap from Mrs. Dolip, making everyone jump.
"If she's gonna do that every day, I'm gonna have a heart attack," Eddie whispers to you under his breath.
"Don't worry," you whisper back, "I know CPR."
You can feel his eyes on you and you know you're still blushing, but you also smirk, all the while watching your teacher write the first lesson on the board.
A week later, while Mrs. Dolip is blabbing on about equations, Eddie speaks out of the side of his mouth. "Have you thought about my Hellfire offer at all?"
You wince and shake your head minutely.
"Okay, angel. No sweat." Your breath hitches at the pet name. "Just keep it in the back of your mind for me." You nod and he lounges back in his desk.
Another week later, Eddie stops paying attention to the worksheet you two are supposed to be finishing and props his head on his hand. "You know, D&D is a lot more fun than this."
You give him a look. "Anything would be more fun than this." The page is full of fractions that keep drifting away from your eyes.
"Fair," he muses, "but D&D would be as fun as doing the school plays. I know you enjoy those."
"I do, but there are things I enjoy more, you know."
"Like what?"
"Reading. Fleetwood Mac. Cats. Taking a walk by the Seine."
"Paris, huh?" You nod. "But what about an alternate world where magic exists and fairies are spiteful and dragons terrorize villages and wizards command the elements?"
"Sounds a little dark for my tastes."
"You're the one who said Fleetwood Mac." He gives a cheeky smile. You roll your eyes and get back to work.
A month after that, just when you've forgotten about D&D, Eddie says after class one day, "You could be a princess, you know. Or a bard. Or a really good thief who always takes what they need but must leave something they want."
"What?"
He shrugs. "It's a curse. Balance is necessary."
You put your pile of books on your desk and turn to him. "Eddie, what are you doing?"
"A great question, milady." He beams. "I'm courting you."
"You're what?" You feel like you're choking on the words.
"To be my apprentice," he clarifies. "My successor."
"Oh." There's a faint sense of disappointment. "Well—"
"Before you say anything, just gimme some more time. I've got some tricks up my sleeve." He winks but there's a pleading in his voice. "Gimme a chance."
You study him, fingers adorned with silver rings constantly fidgeting at his sides, hair wavy and out of control, the same faded leather jacket he always wears shining in the florescent lights.
You sigh. "Okay."
He brightens considerably. "Really?"
"Yeah. Court me or whatever."
"That I can do, angel!" With that, he sprints out the door. You follow at a leisurely pace, not really sure what you're getting yourself into.
;
The next Steve-and-Nancy drama comes around, except this time, you're somehow in the middle of it. It was a crazy sequence of events that led up to it. It started at home.
"I'm going to the store. Do you need anything?" Nina had called from the foyer while putting on her shoes.
"Um," you'd uselessly shouted back while thinking. "We need Pop-Tarts and lemonade. Maybe also some Arnold Palmer's? And tampons please!"
"Check, check, and check," and then she was out the door.
About twenty minutes later, you heard a honk from outside—your sister's way of telling you she's back and to come help with the groceries. You slipped on some boots and grabbed the first heavy jacket you felt in your closet, since a chill had set in recently. You walked out the door, down the stairs, and to the car. Nina had the trunk open and you pulled out one of the bags. You started walking back to the building, not paying enough attention evidently, because you ran into someone halfway through the parking lot.
As if in slow motion, the bag broke open and things went flying. Nothing broke but it was almost worse what actually happened: a box hit the ground with abnormal force and sprang open, propelling tampons into the air. You looked at the person you bumped into through the spray and were mortified to find Steve Harrington staring back at you with a smirk.
Worse still, when the tampons had fallen back to the ground and rolled around on the pavement, Steve reached out and pinched the jacket you were wearing. "I wonder where I've seen this before," he teased.
You looked down and sure enough, you were wearing Steve's letterman jacket.
You just froze, staring at nothing with wide eyes, sure that this whole situation could not get worse. And yet, it did.
"Steve!" Nina said happily, joining the two of you. "Where have you been?"
"Hi, Nina. Just around. At school, practice," he answered cordially, still looking at you with mirth in his eyes.
"We've missed you. You have to come for dinner. What are you doing tonight?"
"Absolutely nothing," and you could hear the cheekiness oozing from the words. "I'd be honored to join."
"Great!" With that, she just walked away and disappeared into the building.
"Oh my god," you breathed, and Steve finally burst into laughter. "Oh my god," you repeated, moaning this time.
"Your face! It was priceless!" There were tears in his eyes. "That was the best thing I've seen in a long time."
That piqued your interest, but it could be examined later. You had to survive this mortification. "I'm so sorry," you said, "I'm so sorry!" You dropped the broken bag, scattering more items, as you rushed to pull off his jacket. "I forgot!"
Steve's hands darted out and stopped yours from moving. You looked up at him. He was smiling. "There's nothing to apologize for, beautiful. You don't have to take it off now. It's cold out here." He dragged it back over your shoulders and you had to hold in a shiver. "I wouldn't be much of a gentleman if I made you strip out here."
Your eyes widened and he laughed again. In an effort to draw attention elsewhere, you dropped to the ground and started collecting the tampons and other stuff. Steve joined you. You tried to use the bag but it was useless. Without any other option, you took the tampons and shoved them in the pockets of the jacket, making him laugh again, louder this time. You laughed too, seeing the ridiculousness in it all. All you and Steve could do was laugh for a minute, just crouching in the middle of the parking lot.
As the giggles faded and breathing evened, you started picking up the other things. "Here," Steve said, and held out his shirt, making a kind of basket. You giggled again as you piled items into the makeshift pouch, until everything was off the ground. You two stood and both supported the weight of his shirt.
"I never imagined I would kind of understand what it's like to be pregnant," Steve joked, and it took a lot of effort not to become completely useless due to laughter.
You both got inside and helped put away the groceries. You were thankful Nina had already started cooking and didn't seem to notice how you'd carried the items inside. As soon as everything was away, Nina was directing you and Steve to help prepare and dinner got underway.
A few hours later, after you'd finished eating and cleaning up the table, you and Steve escaped to your room. "Here," you said sheepishly, handing him his letterman jacket. He took it with a grin and laid it on the back of your desk chair. You sat on your bed while he examined your room.
He looked at your collection of manatees. "Each one is from a new city we've moved to," you explained.
"There's so many." Steve sounded both awed and a little sad.
"Yeah, we've been a lot of places."
"Why?"
"Nina and I are army brats. Dad was moved from base to base a lot. It was cool to see the world, but making friends was always hard." You breathed deep. "They died a couple years ago. Car crash. Can you believe it? Dad was in the fucking military and a random accident is what officially takes them away?"
"I'm sorry." His voice was gentle and soft and kind.
You forced your voice to stop wobbling. "Anyway, Nina got custody. We've moved a couple times so she could find a good enough job to take care of us both. But her job at the hospital here is really nice. She likes it a lot. And it feels pretty stable."
"Where's the one for here?"
"We haven't been able to find one yet. We do have to get it local and for some reason, Hawkins just doesn't sell manatee merchandise." Steve looked back at you and matched your grin.
"What's your favorite one?"
You stood and moved to join him. You picked out a small, delicate manatee. "This one's from Hawaii. We weren't there for very long, but we found this at a tiny shop in Maui. Hand-carved and hand-painted."
"It's beautiful." But Steve was still staring at you.
"Thanks," you whispered, face heating. Realizing your position, you cleared your throat and stepped away. "So, um, how's Nancy?"
It was like being doused in cold water. Steve's expression hardened, though he carefully returned the manatee to its rightful place before stalking away. "It's fine."
"Sounds like it." You said it simply, but it broke through. Steve sighed and perched on the end of your bed. You sat next to him. "Wanna talk about it?"
"I don't even really know what's wrong," he started, sounding confused and lonely. "This past year was great. I thought we were past all the stuff from last year. But...it feels different. Feels like something's off."
"Have you asked her about it?" He shook his head. "Might be a good place to start. Communication is key."
His lip quirked up. "Maybe." There was silence for a few minutes. You were just about to touch his hand when he sprang up from the bed. "So what are you doing for Halloween?"
Shocked by the sudden topic change, you stammered, "Um, something with my friends? Like...horror movie night? Maybe?"
Steve nodded seriously. "Are you dressing up?"
"I'm not sure. I have an idea but there's not really anywhere to wear it."
He lit up. "Come to the party! Tina's party! Nancy and I will be there. And you can bring your friends."
"Are you sure?" Your brow furrowed.
"Totally! It'll be fun. Here," he grabbed a pen and scribbled something onto a piece of paper on your desk, "that's her address. Easy to get to from here!"
"Um...okay—"
"Great!" He beamed. "Well, I gotta go! Those essays won't write themselves!" With that, he awkwardly dashed from the room, grabbing his jacket in the process.
"Bye, I guess," you said to the empty room, completely bewildered.
;
And that's how you're here, at Tina's Halloween party.
"Are you sure we're invited?" Vickie asks nervously.
"Duh!" Jesse replies, already dancing to the beat, "Steve invited us personally."
You shrug, feeling a little helpless. "He did."
"So let's have some fun!" Hailey yells. She grabs Jesse's hand and they plunge into the crowd, immediately heading for the dance floor. You look at Vickie, who looks right back at you.
"Drinks?" You offer.
"Drinks." She confirms.
So you two also head into the fray, in the opposite direction, eventually finding a communal punch bowl that must have six different kinds of alcohol in it for how pungent it smells. You and Vickie ladle some into cups and try it.
"That's nasty," Vickie coughs. You agree. You both keep drinking.
"Hey, you made it!" You hear Steve before he appears, dressed like Tom Cruise in Risky Business. He stops short when he sees you fully. "Whoa."
You look down self-consciously. "Does it look okay?"
"You look sick!" He exclaims. "Not sick like ill, but like super cool. Carrie is such a good choice. Who did the blood?"
"Jesse, Hailey, and I took turns," Vickie answers, and Steve grins.
"Looks awesome!"
"Thanks, Steve." You try not to blush. "Hi, Nancy," you add when you see the girl appear next to him.
She smiles—well, more like grimaces—in greeting before taking a cup and dipping it right into the punch bowl. You and Vickie exchange a side glance, but Steve just follows her lead. "Let's dance," she shouts to him. He gives her a thumbs-up and waves at you and Vickie before disappearing into the crowd.
"Something's not right there," Vickie says to you. You already knew that, but you didn't want to see it right in front of you either.
"I'm gonna get some air," you tell her. She nods and you weave through the people, finally finding the doors leading to the deck and backyard. When they slide open, the cool air is a relief on your hot skin, and you breathe deep in relief.
"Didn't expect to see you here, princess."
You jump at the voice and turn to see Eddie leaning against the side of the deck, surrounded by a cloud of smoke. "Jesus Christ," you choke out.
"I gotta stop scaring you, angel, or I'm gonna have to give you CPR. And I'm not certified." You half-smile, heart still racing. Seeming to sense that, Eddie motions to you. "Come sit down. Get your breath back."
You do as he recommends and sit in the chair next to him. Good thing it's metal, otherwise the fake blood you're wearing would soak in.
"You look great, by the way," Eddie appraises. "Superb fake blood placement. Very authentic."
You smile in thanks, still calming down. "What're you doing here?" You ask when you feel you can.
He holds up a metal lunchbox. "You don't know I'm the local dealer?"
You shake your head. It's news to you, but not altogether surprising. You tell him as much.
He chuckles. "I'm guessing you're not out here to buy?"
"No. Just to get some fresh air."
"Well, shit." He starts to wave away the smoke from his almost-spent joint. "Sorry, princess."
You wave a hand. "It's fine. Actually..." Eddie raises an eyebrow in interest. "I'd be down. To partake. If I can."
"Course you can," he says with a wicked grin. He pulls a fresh joint from behind his ear. "And for you, pretty lady, it's on the house." You go to grab it, but he brings it out of reach again. "But only if we can share."
You nod eagerly and Eddie claps his hands together. "Excellent." He drags a chair over and sits next to you. He hands you the joint and you put it between your lips. Expecting for him to hand you the lighter, you're startled when he leans forward instead, flicking on the flame and lighting it for you. As you inhale, the burning embers set his face aglow a little. He's very pretty.
You finally exhale, releasing the smoke into the air. "Well done, angel," he says, impressed. You shrug nonchalantly as he takes his drag. When he exhales, he creates little rings out of the smoke.
"Whoa! Can you teach me to do that?" You ask excitedly.
He laughs. "Of course."
A little while later, first joint gone and second started, you're just about getting the hang of smoke rings when the door slams open. You and Eddie both turn your heads quickly to see Steve in the doorway, breathing heavily.
"Steve?" You say hesitantly. He looks at you. He has devastation written all over his face. "What's wrong?"
"Can I get a hit?" He asks, ignoring your question.
Eddie hands the joint over without argument, clearly seeing what you're seeing. Steve takes a long drag before exhaling loudly, relaxing as he does. He collapses in the chair near you and Eddie.
"It's over."
"What's over?" You ask.
"Me and Nancy."
Eddie sucks in through his teeth. "That sucks, man."
"Steve, I'm so sorry."
"She called me 'bullshit'," he spits out. "Called our whole relationship 'bullshit'." His tone turns sad. "Said she doesn't love me anymore."
You feel terrible for him. "Steve, you're not bullshit."
"Apparently I am." He inhales from the joint again.
You pluck the joint away, take a quick drag, and hand it to Eddie. Placing a hand on Steve's, you order gently, "Steve, look at me." He swings his head to you sadly, eyes heavy. "You are not bullshit." He scoffs but you interrupt. "Steve." He shuts his mouth. "You are not. bullshit."
Steve gazes at you, then directs his attention to Eddie. "She's right, man," Eddie confirms. Steve looks back at you. You give him a small smile, which he eventually returns.
Temporarily resolved, you turn to Eddie and motion for the joint. You suck in greedily, inhaling quickly. You hold it in for a few seconds, and then release it—finally making a correct smoke ring.
"You did it!" Eddie yells.
"I did it!" You echo.
"Great job, beautiful," Steve commends, and you smile angelically at both of them. You give Steve the joint, who takes a drag and hands it to Eddie. "You guys ever shotgunned?" He asks once he's exhaled.
"Obviously," Eddie answers with contempt, but you're confused. "Like a beer?"
"No, smoke," Steve clarifies. You shake your head.
"You don't know how to shotgun, princess? Well, we gotta remedy that," Eddie continues.
Steve explains. "It's when you blow the smoke into another person's mouth."
You're having trouble trying to picture it, and Eddie senses it. "Here, Harrington and I will demonstrate." It feels like a challenge.
One that Steve is up for. "Let's do it, Munson."
They both stand and step in close to each other. They're about the same height—Steve's just the tiniest bit taller—but their mouths are pretty level. Eddie takes a drag, lets it sit, and then lines up his lips with Steve. He exhales the smoke directly into Steve's mouth, who inhales it deeply. They're centimeters from kissing. It makes you squirm a little.
"Nicely done, Harrington," Eddie says, impressed.
Steve does a little bow, making Eddie laugh unexpectedly. You try to hide a smile. Then they both look at you.
"Your turn, beautiful," Steve says.
"Okay." Your voice is a little small.
"You wanna do it?" Steve asks Eddie, but he shakes his head. "All yours, dude."
Steve sits back down and scoots closer to you. He looks deep into your eyes. "Okay, come close." You do so and your body heats up in the proximity. "I'm gonna do it. You just hold those pretty lips open, okay?" You nod, trembling a little. Steve takes a drag, holds it, and then leans in even closer. You can practically feel his mouth on yours. You're almost unprepared for the smoke as it comes billowing towards you, but you inhale as you're supposed to. Steve stays close for a few seconds, the eye contact too intense to break, until you accidentally puff out the smoke into his face. He leans back and coughs. 
"Sorry!" You exclaim.
"It's alright," Steve answers with a smile. "No harm done."
"You wanna try, angel?" You turn to Eddie and nod. Steve hands you the joint as Eddie comes close this time. You inhale, letting the smoke roll around in your mouth, and then lean in and blow it into Eddie's waiting lips. He inhales it greedily and there feels like electricity between you as he doesn't break his gaze. You can't seem to close your mouth. The moment only ends when Eddie turns his head up and releases the smoke into the night sky.
He looks back down at you. "Good girl," he murmurs, and you feel like you could die.
You collapse backwards, exhausted from the tension.
"How was that?" Steve asks.
"Great," you answer dreamily, and he smiles.
"We're honored we could pop your cherry, princess," Eddie adds cheekily.
You shiver—and then keep shivering.
"Oh, beautiful, you're cold," Steve points out. You don't feel cold; you actually feel hot, from being so close to both of them, and seeing them so close to each other. But there are goosebumps on your skin and you can feel your teeth start to chatter. "Let's get you inside."
All three of you stand and move towards the door. Eddie opens it and lets you and Steve step inside before following and shutting it behind him. You already feel better.
Vickie comes rushing up to you. "We gotta go. It's almost my curfew." She takes your hand and pulls.
You turn back to catch glimpses of those beautiful boys. "Thank you!" You call out, hoping they hear you.
chapter four
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yumesei · 4 months ago
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. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ 「 𝑭/𝑶 𝒇𝒂𝒏𝒇𝒊𝒄 」 ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.
There’s a dark satisfaction in the way Thresh watches you tremble beneath his touch. The chains that bind you to him clink softly, a constant reminder of your eternal bond, yet there’s no fear in your eyes— only something raw, something deep. His cruelty is a part of him, a piece of his very existence, yet you don't shy away. Instead, you lean into it, like a moth drawn to flame. His fingers curl possessively around your chin, pulling you closer as a twisted smirk plays across his lips. "Do you feel it?" he whispers, his voice a low rasp, almost tender. "The thrill of being mine?"
He finds your longing fascinating. The way you surrender so completely, with no hesitation, no second thoughts. It amuses him how you speak of love as if it’s something pure when in his world, love is just another tool to wield—sharp, unforgiving, and perfectly destructive. And yet, you continue to yearn for it. For him. "You love me for the parts of myself that would break anyone else," he muses aloud, almost to himself, as if the idea still perplexes him. You nod slowly, your breath shaky, but your gaze never falters. You want this, need it. Need him.
What Thresh offers is not a love defined by comfort or peace. No, it’s a love laced with pain, dominance, and the promise of eternity—an eternity wrapped in the cold, unrelenting grip of his chains. His touch is often more punishing than gentle, but even when the sting of his power lingers on your skin, you wear it like a badge of honor. He marvels at your resilience, though he suspects it’s more than that. It’s a twisted kind of devotion, one he’s never known before. His chains tighten, and your breath hitches. "Does it hurt, my pet?" he asks, his tone taunting. "Good."
There’s a delicate balance in your relationship, one that dances on the knife’s edge between pleasure and torment. For Thresh, it’s not about breaking you—at least, not entirely. He enjoys the game, the push and pull, watching you bend under his will but never quite shatter. You cling to him with a fervor that borders on worship, and he can’t help but relish it. Every time you say his name, every time you look at him with those eyes filled with a maddening combination of fear and desire, it’s as if you’re giving him another piece of yourself to claim.
And claim you he does, over and over again. Thresh revels in how dependent you’ve become, how you no longer fight the chains, but wear them like an extension of your body. He’s made you his, in every possible way, and yet, the hunger in your gaze remains. "You still want more," he chuckles darkly. "How insatiable." His fingers trace the lines of your neck, a possessive gesture, reminding you of just how fragile you are compared to him. But fragility only adds to the thrill, doesn’t it? He could crush you, snap you like a twig—yet he holds back. That restraint is its own kind of power.
When you whisper that you love him, Thresh’s laugh is low and menacing, vibrating through the air like a shiver down your spine. "Love? What a peculiar word for what we have," he murmurs, his grip tightening just enough to make his point clear. But deep down, he knows there’s truth to it—at least for you. He’s become your everything, and the way you look at him, with eyes full of twisted adoration, feeds his dark desires. "But I suppose, in your own way, you do love me," he muses. "And that’s exactly why you belong to me."
Your submission isn’t about weakness; it’s about trust—trust that he’ll push you to your limits without completely breaking you. Trust that no matter how much pain he inflicts, there’s a part of him that will never truly destroy you. He toys with that line, the one between devotion and annihilation, savoring every moment. "Let go of your strength," he commands softly, his voice wrapping around you like a vice. "There’s no need for it here." You obey, as you always do, and in that moment, he feels your soul truly tethered to his.
The intimacy you share is nothing like what others would recognize as love. It’s darker, deeper, bound in chains and whispered threats, but it’s yours. And in some twisted way, it satisfies you both. Thresh relishes the control, the power, the knowledge that his touch alone can bend you to his will. And for you, it’s the ultimate release—to give yourself so wholly, so completely, to someone who could destroy you, but doesn’t. Not entirely. Not yet.
In the silence that follows, Thresh watches as you rest your head against his chest, your breath steady but your heart racing. You’ve given everything to him, and he knows you will continue to do so for eternity. "You’re mine," he murmurs, his voice low and possessive. "For now, and forever." You close your eyes, a small smile playing on your lips, as if the words are a comfort rather than a threat. You’ve accepted your fate—accepted him, in all his dark, destructive glory. And that, above all, is what makes you so utterly, beautifully his.
He drags his fingers through your hair, slow and deliberate, feeling the tension melt away beneath his touch. There’s a strange, almost addictive pleasure in knowing how much you depend on him. You may call it love, but for Thresh, it’s far more. It’s power, control, devotion—all wrapped in the fragile form of the one who chose to stand by his side. And as his chains tighten ever so slightly around you, he knows neither of you would have it any other way.
I have so many things so say omg-
First anon, you seriously need to open an ao3 or something if you haven't already. Cuz I myself wrote Thresh selfship fics (your girl is down bad) but ffs I'm not sure they were as good as what you just gave me for free???
This is legit so??? I can't even comprehend it?? That's so good and so kind and it makes me so happy 😭
Secondly, you get Sei (my s/i) and Thresh and their relationship good, it makes me wanna yap about them even more???
I don't even have the words to explain how great what you wrote just was, just know that I screenshoted every things you sent me and put them in a little album in my phone photo gallery so I can find them more easily when I want to reread them 🤧
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ashiemochi · 2 years ago
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anubussy - x
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✠ Anubussy ↳ sorry, i don't want your touch ↳↳ it's not that i don't want you
➶ pairing: OC x Leon S(exy) Kennedy. ➶ genre: fluff, more angst, gore, longer smut/suggestive themes ➶ word count: no
NOTE: ✠ = time skip ✠✠ = switching povs/characters
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prev -> next
Moving through the building reminded her of her family’s facility when she had first arrived – lost and confused. Back then, she’d make turns and depend on suicide notes to tell her where to go. 
This building didn’t have a map layout or anyone who wrote a note before passing – So Ah was just following her captain and shooting any of Arias’ minions along the way. She resisted the need to pick her phone up and call Leon. As far as the situation goes, he might be too busy fighting for his life to answer her.
“Why doesn’t this place have any map lying around?” She muttered under her breath, annoyed at the sense of being lost. 
“Why don’t we ask Arias when we bring his ass down?” Chris muttered back, almost sharply at the hatred he had towards him.
So Ah looked at him from the corner of her eyes, “Think he’d tell us?”
Chris huffed lightly, his hawk eyes scanning the long corridors. These villains seriously needed to add more life to their hideouts or underground facilities. They all looked the goddamn same.
A voice came over the PA, “Nice to see you again, Mr Redfield – and I see you brought a guest with you.”
So Ah blinked at this, hiding next to Chris behind the wall who whispered to her confused self, “Arias.”
“Thanks to Professor Chambers, we made the virus much stronger.” Arias continued, “If you could stick around for, oh, another twenty minutes, you’ll see how strong.”
Chris shared a look of shock with her, realizing what Arias had done to his friend, and he knelt down to set the timer on his watch. While he was doing that, So Ah kept her eyes out in case any enemy pops out from around the corner. 
“I can’t wait for you to meet the new and improved Rebecca. The question is…” Arias seemed pleased with himself before his voice dropped an octave, “Do you have it in you to kill her?”
So Ah picked up on Chris’ nod and went after him down the corridor, panting faintly as she stayed caught up with his quick and long strides. 
“My army of the dead will change the world for the better. It will correct the imbalance caused by recent wars.” His voice echoed all over the building, making the soldier and the agent grow more and more on edge, “Maybe if you can stay alive long enough, you can watch me as my B.O.Ws bring down the most powerful nations… One by one.”
Chris growled under his breath, “You belong in a nuthouse, asshole.”
“Unfortunately, I’m not crazy.” Arias assured, something heavy in his tone, “I want revenge. I’m sure you understand that, Miss Han So Ah.”
So Ah slowed down at that, eyes widening as she breathed heavily, and looked up at the security camera. How could he have known – wait, the H-Virus. Chris stopped in the distance, looking over at her with furrowed brows. 
“I must say, it’s an honour to have a member of the Hans here, it really is a pleasure.” Arias mused, a slight smirk on his lips, “I apologise for the mess. I wish we could've met in a different circumstance – maybe if you get out of here alive, I’d be happy to give you a tour.”
Every single scream and shout of pain echoed in her head, reminding her of all the people she had taken. Their lives hung on her shoulders, looming over her like a long shadow. She didn’t want to relate to a psycho like Glenn Arias. 
She refused to. 
Chris gave her a knowing look, silently telling her not to listen to him. She shook her head, shutting her eyes for a moment to ignore the buzzing of the chip and she joined up with Chris. 
“It’d be a grand tour just looking for you.” She mumbled.
Rounding the corner, they skidded to a stop at the horde of zombies rushing and stumbling towards them. 
In an instant, Chris started shooting them and So Ah did as such, aiming at the furthest ones with precision. Sure, the Matilda could only do so much, but she was landing headshots perfectly. Sometimes she’d aim for the legs to drop them down. 
Adrenaline filled her veins as Chris bee-lined through the corridor, following him as he went. By the end of the hallway, it was split in two with the walking dead on both sides. 
So Ah hitched her yelp, dodging a swiping hand before shooting the zombie. There were more than she could count but she stayed close to Chris. If push comes to shove, she’d yank the incendiary grenade from her belt – that she definitely did not steal from the Osprey and just borrowed it – to set shit on fire. 
She heard a clatter of an empty magazine behind her, catching her attention. She was extremely surprised to see Chris casually suplex a zombie and her eyes located his rifle in one of the infecteds’ hands. 
Hastily, So Ah holstered her gun and then yanked the weapon out of its hands and the sharp blade at the end glinted under the pale lights. Oh, she should’ve gotten one of these instead.
She sliced the zombie’s neck, making it stumble back just as Chris stood up. He gave her a grateful nod, taking it back to reload it and shoot the last few ones.
So Ah returned to her gun to help him clear them out, unaware of the ones closing in from behind. A waft of hot breath brushed the top of her head, sending unwanted shivers down her spine and she nearly got a whiplash turning around. 
She stumbled back with a gasp, “Shit!”
A sound of a motorbike entering the hallway was the last thing she’d expect in his situation – but it was also the one she needed the most. It meant one thing, and one thing only. 
The last two zombies dropped to the ground, bullet wounds on the back of their heads, and the bike halted to a stop next to the wall.
So Ah visibly lit up at the sight of Leon showing up unscathed and she ran up to him with relief in her big eyes. 
“Leon, you’re okay.” She voiced her happiness.
Leon exhaled roughly as he got off the motorcycle, feeling the care oozing from her as he gave her a light-hearted judgemental look, “Missed me already?”
Her cheeks turned red at this and he looked over at Chris, walking up to him, “Sorry I’m late. Had to take the stairs.”
A giant question mark appeared on top of her head.
How in the hell did he use the stairs with that giant ass bike?
The elevator dinged at the end of the corridor and a horde of zombies stumbled out. 
Another giant question mark appeared.
How in the hell did they use the elevator?
Leon glanced down at her standing next to him, seeing her eyeing the infected. She looked up at him, nodding as she tightened her grip on her gun. Leon returned the nod, unbeknownst to her, feeling nostalgic fighting by her side.
He ticked his head to the charged zombies as if going ‘after you’ to Chris. 
God, was this day ever going to end?
The zombies snarled as they charged at the trio. One zipped in between Chris and the couple, separating them. Chris was forced to be in the opposite corridor, leaving them in the other. 
As Leon was taking care of the one in front of him, gunshots were heard behind him. Each bullet he shot was to the head or the neck, and by throwing his eyes over his shoulder for a moment, he could see his wife was mimicking him. 
It felt strangely good having her around again; it gave him a reason to push through this mission.
A hand gripped his ankle and Leon twisted it around, going on a deep kneel and shooting the zombie in the head. The muzzle of his Sentinel Nine was tinted red at every shot he took, he was never so focused before.
Meanwhile on the other end, So Ah had her hands full. These zombies; they reminded her of the ones she had seen at the H-Outbreak but the ones they were dealing with were more animalistic. They were attempting to grab her and sometimes they’d latch their gross hands around her ankle which she’d shoot and back away to place some space between her and them. 
Subconsciously, Leon and So Ah stuck to each other, helping the other kill the horde. At some point, Leon went flat to the ground as she shot the one behind him and he did the same to her; from between her legs. 
Was it silly? Probably – but whatever to stay alive. 
An inevitable click came from the Matilda, urging her to reload it. As Leon kept the creatures at bay, So Ah hurriedly took out her last magazine to slam it into the gun but a zombie gripped her wrist, emitting a hitched gasp as she was yanked. 
Leon’s ears instantly perked up to her, eyes snapping to the girl – he fully assumed that rotten teeth would’ve sunk into her flesh by now, but she was still fighting. Her lips formed a snarl, releasing her gun to let it clatter to the ground only to reach underneath her jacket.
Then his heart skipped a beat at the sight of the handcrafted dagger he had gifted her years ago. 
So Ah pressed her arm against the zombie’s neck, not allowing him to bite into her other arm. From behind, she kicked back the walking dead, putting her whole strength and focus on their knee. A loud audible crack emitted from the one at the front, making him fall with a groan and the others nearby stumbled and toppled over.
She switched her attention back to the first one, having had enough of his snarling; he was also the last one in her part of the corridor. Gunshots from Leon’s side and guttural groans from hers, she was vaguely aware he had killed the ones on the ground.
The dagger glinted for a second before she sunk it down into the zombie’s head, deeply. The blood splattered onto her cheek when she yanked it out, letting him drop to the floor. 
Her chest heaved at the adrenaline, unaware of how tight she was holding the magazine in the other. Her quick eyes searched for her gun through the basically a rug of deaddead bodies.
Chris’ rifle slid to her side and he picked it up, standing with the other two. He had blood drops all over his attire, similar to Leon and So Ah. Her once soft-coloured knitted jacket looked like it needed a twenty-four-hour wash to get rid of the grime.
“Rebecca’s running out of time!” Chris shouted, panting heavily.
Leon threw him a quick glance from the side, “Then let’s split up!”
“You go!” So Ah urged Chris, gripping the handle of her dagger tightly, “We got it here!”
Chris gave them a curt nod and went off, shooting the zombies out of the way. So Ah huffed under her breath, finding her gun next to a zombie on the ground. It was growling and waving its arms around from under the heavy bodies on top of it. 
She twirled the knife to a correct grip and she brought it down, flinching to herself at the burning sensation at the back of her neck.
That was when Leon caught a glimpse of something shining on her finger; the ring. It sent an electric shock to his own, setting his veins on fire at the feeling. It threw him back to their wedding and that angelic appearance she had when they were exchanging rings. 
When their highly respected friend said; “You may kiss the bride”, So Ah practically bounced in giddy, kissing Leon with her hands cradling his cheeks. He couldn’t help but chuckle, pulling her close by the waist. 
That day was one of the many memorable events and possibly, one of the few happy memorable events. Every night for over two-hundred-and-thirteen days, the memory repeated around his head like a carousel. 
It was unfair. 
It was so goddamn unfair.
Growling in audible frustration at the whole situation, Leon took down the rest of the zombies from his side. When the last body dropped, So Ah stood up, taking her dagger out and looking over at Leon. The silence was so loud it was deafening. 
His back was facing hers, his chest visibly heaving and his hands were clenching by his side – of course, his finger was off the trigger. He wouldn’t look at her when she slowly made her way towards him, worried he might’ve gotten hurt or even worse, bitten.
“Leon?” She asked gently, almost nervously. 
His sharpsharp ices were glaring harshly at the ground. She still wore her ring. She never took it off. How could she? 
After all she had done, she still cherishes something so broken? 
So neglected?
How dare she make him think that the chemistry was still alive and more than ever between them?
More growls emitted at the end of the hallway, finding yet another horde sauntering from the stairs. Her hand hovered over his arm, stepping back with a dreadful feeling crawling up her back.
“Le–”
“Go find Chris,” Leon ordered lowly, reloading his gun and turning partially to look over at the zombies, “I’ll finish up around here.”
“What – no–” Her eyes widened, shaking her head, “I can help.”
“Now’s not the time for you to be stubborn, So Ah.” Leon snapped, staring at her darkly, “Go. Now.”
So Ah went quiet under his eyes. The conflict was more than evident along with something else she couldn’t put her finger on. Hesitantly, she looked over her shoulder at the zombies. 
Instead of listening to him just yet, she hurriedly grabbed his hand to set her dagger on his open palm. Leon blinked at her action, brows forming a deep crease in the centre.
“What–”
“Just so you’d have a reason to come back,” So Ah said, pushing his fingers to curl around the handle, “To return it to me.”
His hand twitched under her touch and she held his hand for a moment. 
“Be safe.”
It was evident she didn’t want to go and leave him to deal with those feral creatures alone. With this line of work, death was looming from every corner, forcing you to treat every day like it might be the last.
So Ah stood on her tiptoes, planting a faint peck on his cheek, her cinnamons softsoft and utterly worried as she whispered, “Please.”
Leon watched her step away from him before jogging past him, picking up her gun from the ground as she turned the corner. Her footsteps gradually grew distant. The sound of the snarls took his attention away from the heat rushing up the sides of his neck and to his ears at the lingering kiss on his cheek.
Leon holstered her knife into his belt with a faint scoff – a chuckle. Ticking his head to the side at the charging zombies, he held his gun, aiming it at them. A newfound determination and hope within him.
“Better make this quick.” Leon quipped wittily, “I got something to return.”
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joz-yyh · 1 year ago
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Acta Est Fabula - Ch. 5
SUMMARY: Crimson Court AU. Tardif reports back to the Order to protect the one he holds dear. It goes just as horribly as he expected. No Beta. Read at your own risk.
PAIRING: Bounty Hunter x Flagellant / Crusader x Highwayman / Vestal x Hellion
RATING: M (violence / swearing)
WORD COUNT: 2,857  
READ ON Ao3: -> HERE!!
A/N: Lots of characters introduced in this chapter as well as some lore! There's a reason behind every action and mysteries will be revealed in time. Comments and questions welcome~
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Tardif ascends the marble church steps with a burdensome trudge, the sentries waiting up ahead a familiar pair.
Missandei whistles at his arrival, surprised to see him, “Well, look who it is! We were starting to take bets on whether or not you were dead.”
“Feared the worst had happened,” William concurs, talking with his hands, drawing an invisible arch, “The great Nighthawk finally meets his match, slain at the top of his prime.”
“Teh, ye guys wish,” Tardif badgers, setting the rumors straight, “Ain't no one alive who can beat me.”
“Told you, man,” the female sharpshooter smirks, making a grabby motion with her glove, waiting for the other to pay up.
“Taking money straight outta the dog's mouth, you are,” William sighs, sticking out his lower lip, rummaging through his gear.
The houndmaster finally digs out a small coin purse, but is hesitant, looking down at his canine companion in morose consignment.
“Yeah right,” the arbalest growls, snatching up her winnings, “you know how many scraps I sneak Fergus from under the table? She’s getting fed plenty.”
“Explains why I've had to adjust her harness,” the houndmaster muses, rubbing his chin whiskers in assessment.
With a swivel of her floppy ears, the armor clad pet gives a guilty whimper.
“Serves ye right,” Tardif says, brushing the blonde man's shoulder in a mock punch, “Shoulda never bet against me.”
He takes a step back, eyeing the vanguards expectantly.
“Why do they got you two out here guardin’ the door fer, anyway? Thought ye guys would have better things to do.”
“I definitely do,” Missy adds before jabbing her thumb at the other, “don't know about kibbles and bits over here, though.”
William sighs, his posture a perpetual slump from moping too much, “Enough of your horrible dog puns.”
“But they're so good! Fergus loves my dog puns.”
The shaggy wolfdog barks in reply, making the pony-tailed girl grin.
“Told you!”
“Ignore her,” mumbles William, “I know I do.”
“Hey!”
The brute does just that, blocking out her bravado of puffed cheeks and sore green eyes.
“Ye were sayin’?”
“Right. Guess, the powers that be sent out a battalion while ye were gone. We're just filling in.”
“Hn,” Tardif muses, “Wonder what fer?”
“They didn't say,” the houndmaster drawls, crossing his arms in thought, “Not high enough on the ladder, apparently, strictly ‘need to know,’ but I could find out for you, for a price.
“Tryin’ to earn yer gamblin’ debt back, I see.”
“Any way I can.”
“Nice catchin’ up with ye,” Tardif says, patting them both on the shoulder, stepping past their vigil and into the great hall, “but I should get goin’. They’re expectin’ me.”
“You too,” the arbalest smiles, “good luck in there.”
“I'll be here if you change your mind,” William shrugs, mourning his empty pockets.
Tardif takes a deep breath as he enters the long corridor, ignoring the whispers and stares of those lining it, eyes focused solely ahead. It’s a wearisome walk, one of prejudice and judgment that makes him miss the company of his friends.
Lowly hunters like himself were not as well-received as those who were considered of higher rank. A ass-backwards shame considering others of his caliber had the most to lose, doing the dirty work none of the “purer” folk wanted to sully their hands with.
Another series of guards impede his path, blocking his access to the throne room, a poignant caduceus of axes that nearly clip his nose.
“Halt!”
“You must wait to be announced.”
Tardif swallows down the urge to argue that useless code of conduct. There were far too many stupid rules for his liking.
“Send him in,” Reynauld commands, standing from the dias further inside, “He's late.”
The guards remove their barrier, but sneer at Tardif, thinking him too irreverent for an audience with the knight superior, but Tardif returns their malice, leering right back as he traverses beyond their jurisdiction.
Reynauld seems too preoccupied with the scroll in his hands to pay him any mind, the length of it unfurled around his feet, trailing longer than his cape.
The church of Hamlet was governed by joint authority, Reynauld the decisive hammer of fire and action while Junia had a reputation for healing, a passive, merciful ruler that cherished goodness and virtue.
Tardif strides up to the set of twin thrones, kneeling before them to submit his findings.
“Hunter Darkwing reporting back from codename Rapture.”
“‘bout time,” Dismas barks from the shadows, leaning against one of the long red drapes, “Didn't think it would take ya four whole days, but then again, I was betting on the other guy.”
Of course the crusader’s personal body guard would criticize his work. He and Tardif never did get along, always at each other's throats, this undoubtedly causing more strife.
“That'll do Dismas,” Reynauld advises, looking up from his correspondence, tone gentle despite the scallywag who it’s reserved for.
“Teh, if you say so boss,” he growls, crossing his arms, staring out the window into obscurity.
“Well, I never had a doubt,” Boudica retorts, side-eyeing the ex highwayman, standing proudly with her glaive.
The brute can't help smirking in return, knowing at least the reformed hellion was rooting for him.
“Tardif, how nice to see you again,” the vestal smiles, awash in robes of white gold, the ever present warrior woman by her side.
Just as Reynauld has his right hand man, so too does the vestal have her honor guard, each their own inseparable match.
“I take it the threat has been neutralized,” the knight ventures, skipping past the pleasantries, eager to finish this unsavory business.
“More than that,” Tardif answers.
That earns him the holy crusader's undivided attention. “More? How can it be more? Explain.”
“Got a good reason fer takin’ as long as I did. Not only is the target neutralized, I dispatched the baron along with him.”
The room goes silent, Reynauld stiff as always, Tardif unable to discern his reaction from the narrow gaps in his helmet.
Junia and Boudica waver between shocked and impressed and Dismas is well … Dismas.
Tight-lipped as they are, waiting for the knight to share his verdict, the prodigal messenger instigates it.
“C'mon, don't leave me hangin’ in suspense. Tell me yer impressed.”
“He gotta be shittin’ me with this guy,” Dismas scoffs to himself, trying to hide his laugh of pity, “What an idiot.”
Junia's halo of Light glows brightly, reprehensible of such foul language, but it seems to have the opposite effect on Reynauld, the crusader reconciled for the moment.
"Taking down the entire brood is beyond you, Tardif,” the knight finally speaks, as if preaching to a child, “It does not fall to one man, but to all of us.”
“Didn’t ye hear wot I said,” the huntsman snaps, resentful of Reynauld’s lackluster reception, ”I killed the baron.”
“Yes,” the knight begins, throwing his precious scroll upon the ground, stepping up to the pretentious upstart with self-righteous fury, “I heard you defied orders, took authority beyond your rank and you’re being entirely smug about it, feeling entitled to our praise.”
Despite the knight superior standing before him now, garbed in all his shining, mantled glory, Tardif does not feel the distinction of status, addressing him as he would any other man.
“Who cares ‘bout all that,” the brute argues, doubling down, “I just took out the guy no one else could. Hell, ye should send me out again. Betcha I could slay every last one of ‘em wit’ an arm tied behind my back.”
The knight takes a moment to steel himself, gauntlets gripped into fists, pacifying his enraged tone. “Tardif, while I admit you are an exceptional warrior, you are also arrogant, insubordinate. You fail to grasp what is not your place to decide.”
Tardif can hardly stand the hypocrisy.
“Wot diplomacy is there in killin’ beings already deemed unfit to exist?”
The caped crusader does not entertain this, ignoring his underlings' words, a segway for his own victimized tangent.
“I knew it was a risk choosing you for this task,” the knight laments, bowing his head, “A grave disappointment I now regret. And though it pains me to do so, you’re hereby relieved of your hunter status.”
“Like hell I am,” Tardif barks, done with this charade, turning his back on the injustice, intent on storming out.
A steadfast grip reigns him in by the arm, the apprehender none other than the long-haired wild cat Boudica.
“Do not resist,” the warrior woman advises, a tinge of sympathy in her voice, “you know I have to bring you in.”
“Listen to the lady,” mocks Dismas, striding up to his left, enjoying his fall from grace a bit too much, “wouldn’t want to see ya get hurt.”
“Don't worry,” Tardif smirks, “I won't.”
In another horribly brash decision, the brutish delinquent suckerpunches the scarf-wearing bandit, an elbow jab delivered swiftly between the eyes.
The rebellious Tardif is feeling rather proud of himself, much better once he sees Dismas stagger backwards, blood pouring down from his crooked nostrils.
“Makin’ yer little lap dog do everythin’ fer ye as usual I see,” the axeman taunts, an insult aimed at Reynauld, but he stares at his dark-haired lackey, the injured man snarling, his scarf hanging around his neck to reveal his gruesome face scars.
The ex-highwayman wipes his lip, red droplets speckling the stone floor, drawing his firearm in retaliation, shoving the barrel against Tardif's back. “Go on. Say it again. I dare ya. ”
“Insolent savage,” Reynauld roars, demanding obedience from his flock, “can I teach you nothing of humility?”
“Oh, there is one thing I’ve learned,” Tardif intones, raising a middle finger, “Fuck ye!”
“Tardif, please,” Junia begs, breaking her silence, unable to watch this descent into madness any longer.
“My lady,” the persecuted hunter beseeches, “is this how I am to be repaid for all my years of devoted service? Being stripped and unmade? How many times must I lie naked before ye?”
Junia had been like a mother to him, as much as she could be before being coerced into the tireless position she wields now. A part of her will always see Tardif as a frightened little orphan boy, will seek to protect him above all else, hoping to one day absolve her own sins.
“Reynauld … ,” Junia councils, turning to face her fellow bishop, a chord struck within her, “is this punishment not too harsh? Surely, there must be another way.”
“You are too soft on him,” Reynauld decrees, knowing what angle his disciple was playing, “Let us see how he behaves after a few fastidious nights in prison. Perhaps, if he is remorseful of his actions, I will reinstate his title. Until then, get him out of my sight.”
—-
Dismas shoves Tardif forward, leading him down the stairs, further into the dungeon below.
He’s still sporting his pistol, poking it against the captive’s spine every chance he gets, Boudica’s escort trailing behind them, bottle-necked in such a tight space.
They’re underground, the seedy basement just as historic as the church itself, the old layout left unrenovated since it was built, but then again a prison didn’t have to be inviting. Tardif had visited this place a few times in the past, almost desensitized to it's eeriness.
“That's far enough,” the ex-bandit calls, halting their progress just shy of the empty cell, “Boudica, strip him down.”
Once more, the redhead gives her comrade an emphatic look, the brute raising his arms up in surrender as she moves to relieve him of his weapons.
His belts are unclasped one by one, feeling less like a man and more like a thing, a tool robbed of it’s usefulness, a blade dulled and discarded. The hellion hefts his possessions around her shoulder, hooking his weapons onto her own series of straps while he endures this demeaning penalty.
“That should be everything,” the refurbished warrior announces, taking a step back, dressed to the hilt in his gear, signaling her task complete.
Dismas moves to inspect her work, noticing she's missed one item in particular.
“Forgot this,” Dismas says, ripping off the brute’s scouter.
“That stays wit’ me,” Tardif says, eyes forthright and stern, schooling his tone.
“You growin’ attached to the bloodsuckers or somethin’,” Dismas snickers, raising a brow, dangling the parasite's cage around by the clip, “wouldn’t that be the scandal of the century.”
“Don’t like people takin’ wot’s mine,” Tardif growls, putting on his best poker face. If they take Pierre from him now, the highwayman would probably squash him out of existence or worse.
“Teh, s'pose you two can keep 'nother company,” the ex-highwayman says, tossing the tiny creature at him, “Fine, take it. Don’t say I never gave ya nottin’.”
Tardif catches it, clutching the cage tight to his chest, masking his relief as Dismas shoves the brute inside his cozy new home. The gunslinger means to trip him, but the braided man is too big and his balance too practiced. At most Tardif stumbles, keeping his footing.
“Always knew you were destined for a grimy prison cell,” Dismas smirks, eagerly latching the door closed, locking it with a clatter.
“Always knew yer were destined to take it in the ass,” Tardif parries, face a vindictive glower.
Dismas is understandably incensed by the accusation, snarling as he aims his gun, intending to blow the lips right off his wise-cracking tongue.
“Enough,” Boudica shouts, knocking his gun away with her glaive, the firearm discharging against the bars. The bullet ricochets, missing it’s mark and Tardif silently thanks the Light for the hellion’s quick-thinking reflexes.
She leers at Dismas, anger notched across her nose, hurling a harsh reprimand, “He is our comrade at arms. He deserves some respect.”
“Ain't no more, remember,” the bandit sneers, tearing away from their confrontation to retrieve his pistol from the floor. He curses when he spots a nick in the metal casing, an imperfection caused by her meddling, one he’ll have to grind down if there’s any chance of buffing it out.
“That has yet to be seen,” Boudica says, watching the trigger happy hostile carefully.
Dust filters into the air, the side-shaven bandit following the trail of smoke to track where the pellet struck mortar and stone, prying at the hole with his finger.
“If you ask me,” he drawls, rife with ire, blowing against the debris, “He should rot in here. Better yet if we watch him hang.”
“Only if ye join me there,” Tardif quips.
“You wish.” The gunslinger laughs, twirling his pistol around before holstering it, “Maybe that lil’ bloodsucker there will do us all a favor and drink ya in your sleep.”
He spits at ground near the cell, taking his leave, whistling a funeral march, a trait usually customary of the knight superior.
With him gone the hellion can finally relax, her outward visage finally giving way, allowing her true self to shine.
She strides up to the thick-headed ex-hunter, scolding him through the palisade.
“What were you thinking,” Boudica urges, a grimace upon her face, wrinkling the war paint on her eyes, “You knew your actions would displease Reynauld.”
As much as Tardif trusts the hellion with his life, he cannot burden her with the truth.
“I was thinkin’, ‘ey, if I wipe out all the monsters, then we get a much needed vacation.’”
Her expression eases into a frustrated sigh, shaking her head of dreadlocks, “You are brave, *Kló (Talon), like myself. I admire that, but also very *þrár (stubborn).”
“I’ll take it as a compliment.”
“I would expect no less,” Boudica says, her blue eyes serious despite the more light-hearted tone, “I will speak with lady Junia, see what I can do for you. Until then, keep your head down.”
Her words are reminiscent of the shrewd disciplinary lessons Junia would often instill in him, but Boudica had the fierce wild heart to back it up.
“Can't cause much trouble from in here,” the axeman shrugs, looking around the lame accommodations. Bits of straw are scattered about the cell, iron manacles nailed to the wall, a questionably stained bucket positioned in the corner. Well, at least there was a bed, though it wasn’t much more than a weathered slab of wood suspended by chain.
Her dark lips curl into a smirk, recognizing Tardif as the resourceful kind, an underdog never to be outwitted for long.
“Sure you could. I know you.”
“Heh heh, yer right.”
The well-meaning hellion reaches her painted hand through the bars, offering assurances, “Be strong my friend. I will visit again when I can.”
He accepts the gesture, their palms sealing together tightly, making a vow of his own.
“Ye better, else I'll hunt ye down myself.”
A flex of muscle is shared between them, his and then hers, their arms swelling with combined effort.
“If it ever comes to that, I will meet you head on,” she nods, shaking on it before letting go.
The two friends part ways, Tardif watching as her tabard disappears behind a wall of pewter, headed back the same way she came.
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countlessrealities · 2 years ago
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@advnterccs sent: Cutest headcanon: When Rick is alone in the garage, he'll end up either passing out or falling asleep at the work bench. And its only on the days when Morty has a nightmare, he'll come into the garage, find Rick there, and proceed to put a blanket over his sleeping form. Sometimes he'll stay to watch his grandpa sleep, even whisper out some of his frustrations to vent, but other times he just leaves without another word or mention of it. And Rick knows that Morty does this, but he refuses to acknowledge it but he's secretly very pleased with it. { For both Rick and Morty because i couldn't help coming up with one for both of them xD } What's the cutest headcanon you have for my muse? || Accepting !
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Omg, this headcanon fits so well the way I write them! They don't show care openly, but through little gestures / moments like this one. They never mention them or talk about it, but they both know what they mean and treasure them x3
Rick is basically the centre of Morty's universe, his best friend and his (although chaotic) point of reference. In a universe that it's nothing but chaos and randomness, Rick is the (more or less) steady ground Morty clings to. So it's just natural that he'd go find him when he needs comfort. Even if he never asks for it directly, or even if Rick can't give him anything (because he's passed out like in this case, or too drunk to notice, etc). Just sharing the same room, seeing each other, it's enough.
And I think that for Rick it's the same, and that's why he so often goes to pass out in Morty's room / on his bed. He needs the company, the comfort, the safety that Morty offers him just by being Morty.
They tend to take it to the extreme at times, because it becomes totalising and they are the only person for each other. And that's one of the sign of their codependency. But I still think it can be sweet, even when it's straight out pathological xD
I'm gonna add a little bit, just to make it cuter x3 I can see Morty, in winter, grabbing a blanket when he wakes up after a nightmare and heads down in the garage. He knows that the room is cold and Rick drinks too much, so he needs something to keep him warm. So he drapes the blanket over Rick's shoulders before sitting down to watch him and vent.
In the same way, in the aftermath of a rough adventure, Rick knows that it's more likely for Morty to have nightmares, so he makes sure to leave either some juice or a sweet snack for Morty to find when he comes down after waking up.
Those little things aren't acknowledged either, but they are both content and satisfied with their little unspoken arrangement.
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hezzabeth · 1 year ago
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"Everyone, make way! The Apple queen needs to rest before the grand ball tonight," Bridgadeiro screamed to the universe in general.
"Oh, Goup, we have to actually go to the Apple Ball now! And Revati will need a new dress," Mrs. Bun seemed to realize.
"I don't think we all have to go; nobody's forcing us," Vanilla said mildly.
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Half an hour later, Revati was back in the Bun family's kitchen, carefully slicing open each of the apples. Bridgadeiro had wandered off with his father to set up "the flower fireworks" for the ball.
"Let's see, you have broad shoulders with a large bust, very small hips," Mrs. Bun, who was circling Revati, remarked.
"She does have great legs, probably from walking everywhere," Vanilla added from where they appeared to be examining a bunch of dress designs on the wall.
Revati merely ignored them and used a fork to carefully pry out another Martian Opal.
"What pattern codes do we have? She can't show up in that sundress," Mrs. Bun asked.
"We could go with the satin wrap-around I wore last Australia Day," Vanilla remarked as Revati grabbed the last apple.
Twelve apples, four opal seeds per apple.
"No, the two of you will look too similar! I have a pattern I wore to granny's funeral," Mrs. Bun replied.
"A funeral dress? Really?" asked Vanilla.
Forty-eight Martian fire opals.
"It's long and decent," Mrs. Bun pointed out. The fire opals glimmered, still covered in the remnants of sticky pulp.
"You don't have to keep the seeds; they're just weird pattern glitches! One time we created a bunch of tomatoes with gold seeds," Mrs. Bun said to her.
"I'm keeping them," Revati said, scooping them up.
One of the first history lessons Amma taught Revati was the legend of the Mars rover.
"Long, long ago, when our world was barren and desolate, a robot from old Earth came. The robot's name was Curiosity, and for eons, he rolled across the dusty red surface. Then one night, he discovered in a dry crater the water opals," Amma would whisper.
"We could fuse them into a necklace using the creatrix; that would add some glamour," Vanilla mused.
"Fine, just don't chip them! Otherwise, we won't be able to read them later," Revati said, handing her the opals.
"Read them?" Vanilla asked, faintly confused.
"Martian fire opals have a natural property where you can record information! Obviously, I was given these for a reason," Revati said.
"See, if she wears the shiny seeds with the funeral dress, she will look perfectly fine," Mrs. Bun said.
Suddenly, the kitchen door swung open dramatically.
"This year's apple queen is not wearing a funeral dress to the grand apple gala!" Auntie Magdeline declared, marching in carrying a bundle of red shimmering fabric.
Auntie Magdeline shook the fabric out, revealing a scarlet ballgown. The shiny silk was covered in apples made out of sequins and beads. The sleeves were ruffled layers, while the neckline, dipped in gold, was scandalously low.
"Auntie! Where did you get that? I haven't seen a style this sexy in years," Mrs. Bun said.
"Lady Mill influenced a lot of the fashion around here, and she's obsessed with the innocent princess look," Vanilla explained to Revati.
"Tish! This is the dress I wore when I was the Apple Queen sixty-nine years ago," Auntie Magdeline said, holding the dress up to Revati.
Revati merely touched the fabric. The sequins felt like scratchy ants. Revati flinched her hand, recalling.
"It's pretty, but it looks itchy on the outside," Revati said instead.
"Oh, it's fully lined with the softest cruelty-free silk," Auntie Magdalena said, stroking the fabric as if it were a favorite child.
The kitchen door suddenly swung open with a bang, and Auntie Saffron appeared.
"Sister cousin! I can't believe you would even think about giving this tourist the Esopus Spitzenburg," Auntie Saffron cried, gesturing towards the dress.
"You named a dress?" Revati had to ask.
"A dress? The Esopus Spitzenburg was worn by our great-grandmother to meet the Mill Emperor," Auntie Saffron said, patting the dress.
"It was handcrafted using a thousand killer butterfly cocoons. The sequins were forged using smashed ruby roses," Auntie Saffron added in a quiet, dreamy voice.
Her eyes then snapped upwards, meeting Revati's. Hateful cold eyes.
"The Esopus Spitzenburg was put into a trust to be worn by Bun women during events of historical significance!" Auntie Saffron said, trying to grab the dress off her sister cousin.
Revati had seen such eyes before.
"Are you seriously trying to intimidate me with this whole old, cruel matriarch act? I've faced psychotic killers," Revati snapped back, clenching the dress.
"You are not now, and nor will you ever be, a Bun woman," Auntie Saffron replied coldly.
"Really? Well, Bridgadeiro adores me! I'll just have to go and make a baby with him, and then I'll share some of its DNA in my placenta," Revati replied sweetly, and Auntie Saffron dropped the dress with shock.
"You wouldn't dare," she growled as Revati triumphantly held the dress up.
"Can I go to the rose room to try this on?" She asked Auntie Magdeline, who was grinning from ear to ear.
"Of course, dear! Just clap your hands twice to turn off the government surveillance system," Auntie Magdeline said, and Vanilla handed something to Revati.
"Here, see if the seeds go with it," she said.
The creatrix had spun a fine necklace in the shape of a spiderweb, the opals studding its surface.
"I'll be right back," Revati said, heading to where Dityaa had slept the night before.
"Are you really going to let that little snippet talk to me like that?" Auntie Saffron huffed as Revati walked down the hallway.
"Well, as you pointed out, she's not actually a Bun woman, sister cousin. I can't tell her to do anything," Revati heard Auntie Magdeline's voice reply.
The first thing Revati did when she entered the rose room was clap her hands twice. Then, carefully, she took off the Kaskthaali necklace, tucking it into the sundress's pockets. Next came the Martian opal necklace; Vanilla had somehow made everything much easier.
Revati had only ever seen Martian opals a few times on the road, usually embedded in the walls of natural history museums. Before the widespread data cloud, they were often used in Martian libraries to store books. It was Nanni who explained that the key to unblocking them involved warmth from human skin. The necklace hung heavy; forty-eight tiny opals had a lot of weight. The warmth began to spread up her chest and towards her chin. It reminded Revati of Bridgadeiro's hand trailing down her neck.
"Greetings Lady IO, this is a pre-recorded message from Captain Delphi of the lost Princess resistance," a lady's voice suddenly erupted from the necklace.
"Oh god," Revati groaned; of course, her sister had joined some sort of resistance army. She probably thought it was romantic.
"Now that you've successfully destroyed the hidden AI appliance base on Cairnes, it is time for your next assignment," the necklace chirped again.
"Successfully destroyed? Thousands have died," Revati hissed at the necklace.
"We have recently uncovered the identity of the scientist responsible for your unique abilities," the necklace said, and the wall in front of the rose room's bed lit up. A still image of a man with thick light blue hair and a handlebar mustache stared down at Revati.
"Lord Artichoke Mill. We have secured your position as the Apple Queen, which will grant you passage to his private estate. During the ball, a distraction will occur, and you will extract Lord Mill, taking him to the pre-discussed rendezvous point," the necklace finished.
Suddenly the opal grew cold, and the image disappeared. Revati grabbed at the gold chains, completely flabbergasted. Surely the one-handed man with the apples couldn't have been so stupid? No one in their right mind would mistake Revati for Dityaa.
"Is everything alright in there? Does the dress fit?" Mrs. Bun's voice suddenly called.
"Just a second!" Revati cried, tugging at the chain, causing the necklace to break, and the opals to scatter all over the floor.
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astrajinn · 1 year ago
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Duel of the Fates part 1
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N/A: Okay, I will only narrate the fight from Astra's, Obi-Wan's, and Anakin's perspectives, okay? Jar Jar's perspective will not be included.
The three entered the room and positioned themselves behind Anakin, except for Astra, who stood by his side due to being the shortest.
—The Force is strong in him—declared one of the masters, causing Astra to smile at the boy.
—Will he be trained?—asked Qui-Gon.
—He won't be trained—declared Windu—. He's too old—assured.
—Even if you add up the age of everyone here, Master Yoda is still the oldest—whispered the girl, eliciting a laugh from the boy.
—He is the chosen one; you must feel it. Just like Astra, there can't be one without the other.
—Hmm, uncertain future, the boy has, and with her, I can't see it—mused Yoda.
—I will train him. Anakin will be my Padawan from now on.
—An apprentice already has, Qui-Gon. Impossible to have a second if the girl depends on you.
—The code forbids it.
—Another master could train me. Master Dooku, who trained Master Qui-Gon, has no Padawan under his care.
—I am ready for initiation—Obi-Wan hurried to say.
—The council will decide when someone is ready.
—He's stubborn and has much to learn from the Force, but he's capable. He won't learn anything more from me.
—Skywalker's destiny will be decided later.
—This is not the right time. The Senate will choose another chancellor, and Queen Amidala will return home, putting pressure on the Federation and possibly escalating the confrontation.
—It would make the attacker of the queen reveal himself.
—Go to Naboo with the queen and discover the identity of this dark warrior. That's what we need to solve the mystery of the Sith.
—You must be joking; she can't go—yelled the youngest.
—Young Starling—you were called.
—Jedi shouldn't even get involved in government affairs. If it will be—she knelt in front of the council and pleaded—Please, I implore you, send someone else.
—The decision has already been made. Either accept it and accompany them or stay in the temple waiting for their return—Windu pronounced as Qui-Gon carried her.
—May the Force be with you.
With this, the four left, and the masters looked at each other.
—Her attachment to him is too great—commented Master Mundi.
—She is still young, has much to learn—Yoda reminded.
—Respect for elders is one of those things—Windu mocked.
—You see disrespect; I see a frightened girl who wants to save her father—said Master Yaddle.
—She acts as if she were going to die—pointed out Master Shak Ti.
—Perhaps not to that extent, but none can deny that Astra has shown the ability to perceive certain things unconsciously—Yaddle recalled—. Perhaps we were wrong not to listen to her.
Meanwhile, the group reached the hangar, where Naboo's entourage awaited them to go to the planet and resolve what was happening.
—Do you think they will train me?
—Sure they will, and if they say no, Qui-Gon will do it. He promised.
—But no one will train you.
—I am already part of the order; they won't leave me without training. In the worst case, I know someone who would teach me without hesitation. Alone, I don't think it's a good idea to go on this mission.
—Everything will be fine.
—How do you know?
—Because the best Jedi in the galaxy accompanies me.
—Astra, please get on the ship.
—Yes, Qui-Gon—she nodded, getting on her speeder and entering the ship.
Once underway, Anakin was left in the care of the pilot while the Jedi, the captain, the queen, and her handmaidens were in another room talking.
—Upon landing, the Federation will arrest her and force her to sign the treaty.
—I agree. I don't know what she hopes to achieve with this—Qui-Gon emphasized.
—Reclaim what is ours.
—More like putting a blaster to everyone's head. Should we wait for them to pull the trigger and find out which one is loaded? This is suicide—said the girl, twirling her lightsaber in her palm and stopping it repeatedly.
—The girl is right; we don't have an army, and there are not enough men.
—I can only protect her, not fight a war for you.
—You wouldn't even have to protect her if she had stayed still in Coruscant as she was asked to—she complained, restraining the urge to punch her.
—Jar Jar Binks—the monarch called.
—Misa, Your Highness?
—Yes, you have to help me.
The queen explained her plan, and somehow Astra had hope that they could get help from the Gungans, who, according to Jar Jar, were a warrior people with a good strategy despite their strange way of speaking. When they landed, Jar Jar went to talk to his people, Obi-Wan went with Qui-Gon, and Astra stayed with Anakin and Padmé.
—Do you think the plan will work?—the boy asked.
—I couldn't tell you. I have a pretty clear idea of how stubborn this supposed queen is. But as for the king, I can't say if he hates everyone on the surface or just dislikes Jar Jar.
—You're still on the same thing—Padmé sighed resignedly.
—I'll keep on it until you open your mouth to tell the truth—she declared, walking toward her father—. Take care of him, Padmé; he still doesn't know how to fight.
—Sometimes I don't know if he loves me or sees me as a helpless animal—the boy asserted with some regret.
—Jar Jar is taking too long—pointed out the padawan.
—Do you think he abandoned us?—the girl questioned.
—No, you saw how they treated him last time. I doubt he'll stay in a place like this.
—Even if it's the place where he was born?
—Even if it is. Here he comes.
Jar Jar emerged from the water, shook himself off before reaching them with not very pleasant news.
—No one there, the city is deserted. Maybe a fight, perhaps.
—Have they taken them to the fields?
—I think they eliminated them—suggested the captain.
—Misa, don't cry.
—They live in the water—reminded the girl—. The droids would take a while to find them. Maybe they managed to escape.
—Do you know where they are, Jar Jar?
—In these cases, the Gungan sanctuaries are always. Misa will take you; let's go. Misa will take you.
Everyone began to walk through the forest towards the sanctuary. Jar Jar led the way, followed by the supposed queen. Then came the four Force users along with the captain, the queen's handmaidens, and some soldiers. There weren't many, to be honest, but there were enough to attract the attention of the Gungans when they arrived at the sanctuary.
Jar Jar spoke with one of the guards whom he apparently knew, and he led them in front of the king, announcing only the queen.
—Your Excellency, Queen Amidala of Naboo.
—Hello, Great Chief, Your Excellency.
—Jar Jar Binks. Tell me, who are the others?—he asked, annoyed.
—I am Queen Amidala of Naboo; I have come in peace—the "queen" spoke.
—Ah, an important Naboo. You bring the chattedroids; you are very naughty.
—I've looked for them because I want to form an alliance.
—Your Excellency—Padmé spoke, stepping in front of the supposed queen, causing a smile in the youngest present.
—Who is she?
—I am Queen Amidala, she is my decoy. My bodyguard, my loyal protector. I apologize for deceiving you, but it was necessary to protect myself. Although we may not always agree, Your Excellency, our two societies have always been at peace. Now, the Federation is destroying what it cost us so much to build. If we do not act, we will lose everything, forever you must support us—she knelt before the king— I beg you to support us. We are your humble servants.
With these words, everyone in the entourage knelt to demonstrate the honesty in the words of the young queen, much to Astra's annoyance, who had to get off her speeder to do so. The king thought for a moment, leaving the attendees expectant, and out of nowhere, to their dismay, he burst into laughter as if he had heard the best joke.
—You guys don't think you're better than us Gungans— he exclaimed while still laughing—. I love hearing that. Being friends would be fabulous— he shook his head in a strange way, amusing the Force users and confusing the others.
The Gungans planned their strategy with the members of the guard who knew the terrain better. Obi-Wan spoke with Qui-Gon, and Astra tried to see what would happen with the battle, although it was almost impossible for her to notice anything. In her mind, there was torment; she saw the destroyed temple, saw a woman crying in the arms of another, and then nothing. No matter what the Force showed her, she saw nothing that gave her peace, nothing that indicated that everything would be fine. At some point, it became evident since she was floating almost half a meter off the ground, and the grass around her sometimes seemed to wither and quickly grow back. She felt a liquid run down her nose before falling to the ground when someone touched her shoulder.
—Are you okay?—Padmé asked, handing her a handkerchief.
—I would be better if you hadn't distracted me—she reproached, cleaning the blood without any care.
—What are you trying to do?
—Find out if your suicidal plan will end up killing us all.
—I'm pretty sure everything will be fine—Padmé reassured her.
—What if it's not? The Force is capable of many things, but there is still no way to bring back life without taking another in return.
—Astra, Anakin, come here—Qui-Gon called.
Qui-Gon asked Anakin to watch and come to warn when the Gungans were on their way, and Astra asked to stay with Padmé temporarily.
—They're here already—Anakin announced when he arrived.
—They did it.
—You did well, Jar Jar Binks, you have united us with the Naboo—congratulated the king—. So, I will appoint you Bomboso general.
—General—exclaimed the Gungan before fainting.
—What is the situation?
—Almost everyone is in camps; some police and guards formed an underground resistance. I brought as many leaders as I could. The Federation's army is larger and stronger than we thought. It's a battle that I doubt we can win.
—Not without the right strategy—acknowledged the girl.
—It's impossible.
—Difficult, not impossible, and we have a small surprise factor.
—At this point, they must have discovered the ship.
—And they know how many of us were on it, and they know the strength of the Naboo army, but they don't know the strength of the Gungans. It's an opportunity we must take advantage of.
—It's true. The battle will be a distraction; the Gungans will make the droids leave the city. R2—the droid projected a hologram with the plans of Naboo—We'll enter the city through the secret passage behind the waterfall. When we reach the main entrance, Captain Panaka will create a distraction. After that, we'll be at the palace and capture the Viceroy. Without the Viceroy, they will be lost and confused. What do you suggest, Jedi Master?
—The Viceroy will have many guards.
—It will be difficult to reach the throne room, but once there, it won't be a problem.
—Although it's a good idea, there is a possibility with this distraction that many Gungans will die.
—We are ready to continue—assured the chief.
—We have a plan that will immobilize the army of droids. I'll send any pilots I have to neutralize the droid control ship.
—It's a clever plan, with a lot of risk; their ship's weapons may not penetrate the shield.
—And there is an even greater danger. If the Viceroy manages to escape, he will return with another army of droids, Your Majesty.
—Intelligence is not your strong suit, right, Obi-Wan—mocked the girl—The third step of the plan is to capture the Viceroy; he said it right after the part where we infiltrate the palace through the secret passages.
—It's the most important, everything depends on it.
The Gungan troops took their positions and began to march toward the battlefield. Meanwhile, the Jedi and several soldiers entered the city in small groups to go unnoticed. They positioned themselves against the wall, and Padmé used a flashlight to signal the captain, who responded indicating that they could pass. Qui-Gon crouched in front of the children and first addressed Anakin.
—Ani entrar busca donde puedas ocultarte y quédate ahí.
—Si—acepto.
—No salgas—volteo a ver a la niña—. Cuidarás de Padme quédate con ella y no la dejes atrás.
—Si Qui-Gon—confirmo al tiempo que los soldados disparaba distrayendo a los droides que quedaban en la ciudad.
Los Jedi encendieron sus sables y desviaron algunos disparos y Obi-Wan se quedó atrás de la fila decapitando a un droide que se acercó demasiado. Entraron por puerta hacia el interior del palacio y avanzaron cubriendo a Anakin a Padme y algunos soldados que se les unieron hasta llegar al hangar. El fuego de los blasters los recibió, los jedi iban delante repeliendo el fuego.
—Anakin cúbrete—exclamo Qui-Gon.
—Todos a sus naves—ordeno Padme a los pilotos.
Estos corrieron a sus transportes intentando que no les dieran. R2 llego a una de las naves y un juego de ganchos lo subió; seguidamente empezó a emitir pitidos para atraer a Anakin. Las naves despegaban tan pronto Los pilotos subían a ellas
—Estas latas ya me están cansando—se quejo la más pequeña decapitando otra.
—¿Qué pasa princesa? ¿Te quejas de tu plan?—se mofó Obi-Wan.
—Mi plan era quedarnos en Coruscant ¿Quieres seguirlo?
—¿Siempre son así?—Padme disparo.
—Creo que moriré antes de que esos dos se lleven bien.
Anakin subió a la nave con R2 y vio a las dos más jóvenes luchando junto con los mayores, intentando deshacerse de todos los droides. Astra apago su sable y uso la fuerza para sujetar al último grupo de droides y lanzarlos afuera del hangar.
—Hubieras empezado por ahí—se rio Padme.
—Mis habilidades tiene un límite—informo repitiendo la acción de girar el sable en su mano—. Debemos seguir.
—El virrey debe estar en la sala del trono—
—¡Grupo rojo! ¡Grupo azul! Síganme por aquí—ordeno el capitán a lo que todos se dirigieron a la puerta.
—Oigan, espérenme—pidió Anakin intentando bajarse de la nave.
—Anakin, quédate ahí. Estarás seguro—informo Qui-Gon
—Pero—trato de protestar
—Quédate en esa nave.
—Quiero ayudar.
—Ani obedece, volveremos por ti, lo prometo—desplegó su deslizador y subió a él.
Las puestas se abrieron y estaban por salir, vieron a una figura encapuchada con la cabeza baja que los estaba esperando. Cuando se enderezó revelo sus ojos, entre amarillos y rojos, con una furia maldad que la pequeña no supo descifrar.
—Déjenos con él—pidió el maestro caminando entre los soldados.
—Todos, la ruta larga—ordeno Padme caminando hacia el otro lado con los soldados y doncellas detrás.
Qui-Gon Obi-Wan y Astra se colocaron firmes frente al hombre, quien retiro la capucha de su cabeza, revelando a un Zabrak de piel roja y tatuajes negros. Los jedi por su parte, retiraron sus capas y las tiraron al suelo para tener mayor libertad de movimiento. El sith encendió su arma, un sable de doble empuñadura, al mismo tiempo que los Jedi encendían los suyos y se colocaban en guardia.
—Astra quédate con Padme, tu deber ahora es protegerla—sentencio Qui-Gon.
—Papá—susurro asustada apretando la empuñadura del sable.
—Todo estará bien, Rani ve.
En contra de sus deseos, Astra paso detrás de su padre y su alumno para llegar hasta Padme que lidiaba con unos droideka con campos de energía.
El zabrak avanzo hacia los jedi y el primero en atacar fue Obi-Wan que salto sobre él para quedar a su espalda e intento darle un golpe de esta forma antes de ser bloqueado. La destreza del Sith era innegable, ya que podía repeler los ataques de los dos Jedi al mismo tiempo usando un arma bastante compleja.
Por otra parte, Astra no la estaba pasando mejor, los droideka no les permitían avanzar y ella sola no tenía la habilidad suficiente como para repeler todos los disparos. Aun así hacia su mejor esfuerzo mientras que los soldados y las mujeres disparaban intentando darles, pero el campo de fuerza que estos poseían lo hacía casi imposible.
On the other side of the hangar, Anakin was checking the buttons on his ship, trying to find the trigger to help Astra and Padme with the droids. R2 emitted a complaining beep, and he responded.
"That's what I'm trying to do; I don't know where the trigger is." He pressed a button that made the ship move forward. "Oops, not this one. Maybe it's this." He pulled a lever, and the hatch closed. "Wait, here it is." He took control and maneuvered the ship before pressing the trigger to shoot the droids.
"Let's go," indicated the queen, running into the palace with the soldiers behind her.
"It's on autopilot," he yelled when he saw it was about to take off. "R2, deactivate it." He put on a helmet.
"Padme, was that Anakin?" asked the girl, floating by her side.
"He'll be fine; it's safer than here."
"If you say so."
While the Jedi continued to battle the Sith, the blows went back and forth without rest. They couldn't hit him, but they also didn't give him a chance to attack. Until a moment when the Zabrak jumped while blocking a low blow from Obi-Wan and kicked Qui-Gon in the abdomen, throwing him to the ground. This gave the Sith the opportunity to move away towards one of the hangar doors leading to an auxiliary power plant. There, he used the Force to lift a cut piece of a droid and damage the circuit to allow him to pass. However, he couldn't afford to be distracted, as the Padawan was right behind him and didn't miss the chance to attack him again. The master ran to his aid, and before entering, the Sith hit Obi-Wan in the same way he had done with his master, throwing him far from the entrance, leaving only the master with enough time to step back. The series of bridges and generators supplying power were over a deep pit that, from where they were, seemed to have no bottom. The battle continued in this place, with the Sith retreating to a control panel from where he did a backflip to reach one of the bridges, followed by the Jedi.
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Chut Chut PateesaHow are you?
Once again here with you, I want to let you know that all the chapters of this first season will be published before or at the latest by December 31st, that is, before this year's Festival of Lights.
-Astra, run, I think he's finally going to do it. -Obi-Wan, is he going to shave his beard? -What? No, silly, Anakin challenged Jar Jar to a game of Sabacc, and Jar Jar is winning. -Are you kidding? I have to see this.
Well, my beloved Padawans, as always, I ask you to like, comment, follow me, beware of the Sith, and remember that "your focus determines your reality." And May the Force be with you.
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hvneymelons · 8 months ago
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Dante flashed her a toothy grin, "Exactly!" he replied, giving his drink yet another stir. When she commented on the food he nodded in agreement. There was nothing that Leon could cook for him that he wouldn't devour in mere seconds. Ever since they were younger, when Dante was no more than a pipsqueak, he felt this desperate need for his cousin's attention. Throughout the years you'd think he'd grow out of it, but even now as the girl raved about the food review, he felt the need to empathize just how amazing Leon's dishes were. "Oh, you would have loved the food from the chef's old restaurant." Dante mused, salivating at the mere thought, "The precision with which he cooks is otherworldly." Dante didn't have to think too long on his response, but did it deliberately, pursing his lips upwards as he glanced up. "I'm pretty basic. I like some good ol' nacho cheese and bacon. Maybe some chives to dress it. I'd say parsley, but I personally don't think that has any taste." He leaned over towards her, covering his mouth as if to tell her the biggest secret in the world, and whispered "I honestly think it's all just a facade. Parsley, you know? There's no distinct flavor to it, and they just add it onto everything. Like - what gives?"
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Well Leilani's worries began to ease a bit when he didn't seem to recognize who she was. Maybe he just didn't have enough time to piece it together yet or he wasn't really going to. She nodded as she looked in his direction at his suggestion and she smiled. "Alright, you heard 'em, i'm going to get some pickles with that too!" She said to the bartender. "I heard a lot of good things about the food here so I guess if someone makes a suggestion then it's something I should really listen to." She mentioned to Dante, smiling at him. Maybe this is all she needed, was just a talk with him so that she could ease into the topic or was it smarter to just lay it all out with a blurt? Probably not. That was probably going to scare him. "What do you like to eat your fries with?" She asked.
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natsglorifiedsimp · 3 years ago
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Sick & Nightmares
A/n: To the anon who asked more of the mama up AU. Here you go.
This timeline is connected to Mama up and Who's gonna tell her? If you wanna read it there it is :>
HAPPY FATHER'S DAY TO TONY
Not me forgetting to add the taglist💁🏻‍♀️ IM SO SO SORRY😭
Taglist: @diaryoflife @xxromanoffxx @lissaaaa145 @fxckmiup @simp-erformarvelwomen @mmmmokdok
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"It was supposed to be a light fever" your dad complained. Tony, your dad was carrying you in the medbay because you were extremely not energetic than usual and Friday detected that your temperature was going up.
So here you were in your father's arm, nose congested, head feeling a little heavier than usual, and very much all you want to do is sleep.
Bruce was checking you up and you didn't have any care. All you did was wince and whine when your head was moved by Bruce.
After a few minutes that felt like an entire day, your dad finally cradled you back into your arms and you tiredly clutch his neck. Sniffles and coughs echoing throughout the hallway.
"It's cold" you whimpered, clutching your dad tighter.
"I know hun. But you know what you're gonna sleep with Dada tonight" he mused, trying to cheer you up.
You muttered a tired 'yay' and it caused you to a fit of coughs. Tony rubbed your back and hummed a random melody to try and get you to sleep which worked very well.
You were now asleep mouth ajar, ragged breathing, and snot coming out of your nose.
Tony placed you in between him and Pepper so he could check you easier if anything bad happens.
'''
The night went well until it didn't. You became sweaty and your breathing went more ragged than usual. Your small whimpers cannot be heard by the two people sleeping beside you.
You widen your eyes and flinch a little realizing it was just a dream but it felt too real for you.
It was Natasha falling from a cliff. The scenery was violet and all was blurry in your mind. But the redhead was very clear.
Your eyes filled with unshed tears, the image clear in your mind. You wiggled your way out of the bed, the two lovebirds fast asleep.
You needed to make sure mama was okay. You silently went out of their bedroom and made your way to Nat.
You were sniffling making your way to Nat. Your head felt heavier because tears were shedding off your cheeks. Finally making it to her door you knocked before opening it.
"Mama" you quivered, not liking that it was dark.
"Mama" you whisper-shouted. When no response was made you decided to enter her room.
You shook her body to try and wake her up but the redhead flinched and prop up to see who was trying to attack her.
The sudden movement of the redhead and her fighting stance made you flinch and cry.
"Mama" you sobbed. Natasha shakes her head finally realizing it was a pale 3-year-old that was in front of her. She relaxed her stance and cradled you into her arms.
"I'm sorry baby" she cooed. "I thought you were a ba— you're extremely warm y/n" she exclaimed, putting the back of her hand to rest on your forehead.
You sobbed uncontrollably in the arms of the redhead remembering your dream and were glad that she was okay.
"You wewe dwed mama" your nose was so congested making your speech hard to comprehend.
"Dead? I'm okay y/n/n," she assured. "It was just a nightmare"
You finally looked at the redhead to make sure she was telling the truth. You sniffled and hiccuped through a lopsided smile and kissed her cheeks.
"See? I'm okay" she soothed. "Why don't we go back to your room?"
"No" you whined. "I want sleep hewe"
You looked at the empty side of the bed to see it was not empty. It was occupied by another redhead who you knew to be Aunty Wanda.
"Why is Auntwy Wanda hewe?" you questioned through uninvited coughs.
"Well," she trailed off looking at the sleeping woman beside her. "Were having a sleepover"
You narrowed your eyes hearing a little squeak from the redhead's voice. Natasha nervously looked at you to see if you'd buy her excuse.
"Can I sweep in between?" you questioned, head tilting to the side.
"Yes, of course" she agreed. "Let me just wake Aunty Wanda up so she could scoot over"
Wanda woke up seeing a distressed pale redhead and a clearly sick 3-year-old in her arms.
"She wants to sleep here"
Wanda immediately scoots over so she could make space for you. You wiggled your way out of Natasha's arms and took the free space Wanda has given.
You opened your arms making grabby hands for the assassin but she didn't notice.
"Mama" you whined. Natasha looked at you and finally complied with your needs.
You happily sighed and sucked your thumb for comfort and the other hands you directed to Natasha's face to make sure she wouldn't leave you when you are asleep.
Wanda let out a giggle seeing the scrunched-up face of the redhead.
"Way to go mama"
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romanoffsbish · 2 years ago
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Happy Feet
Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader
Requested by: @mostlymarvelsstuff
Sunshine/Grumpy Prompts
“No, no, please don't look sad. I can't handle that.”
“Will you dance with me? Please, pretty please!”
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Tony Stark was akin to royalty amongst the commoners, it shown on their stupid smiley faces as he perused about his party. To you though, the only royal thing the billionaire was, was a pain in the ass. If he's not always needing you to heal him with your powers he's forcing you into skimpy outfits for parties thrown with the sole purpose of stroking his massive ego.
This morning you'd woken up in a good mood, and the breakfast that Wanda made and then shared with you only served to make it better. You felt like you were on cloud nine after leaving the kitchen, and it lasted up until you had made it back to your room. The petty note on your door reading out: "Wear this or find a new place to live.," made you want to hurt someone—Tony—in complete opposition to your bodies trained capabilities. Then to add insult to injury the jackass played upon those powers by leaving you a "sexy nurse" costume.
—————
—————
So, when you finally made it to the party you were already in a sour mood, and just the sight of his cocky smirk had you ready to pounce but your best friend—the ever knowing spy—was two steps ahead of you., "Well don't you look positively ravishing.," she teases while forcing a mixed drink into your empty hands., "I know what you're doing Nat, and I want you to know you're only postponing the inevitable."
The redhead quirked a brow at you in search of elaboration., "Upon the witching hour the powers at be that fuel me require a sacrifice, and it will be Tony who graciously takes that spot.," the redhead laughs at your words, and the slight quirk of your lips as you sip your drink tells her that you were indeed joking., "Call me if it gets too messy will you?," she muses while going to leave, but she stops to whisper in your ear., "The hot witch at your six isn't even hiding her want—don't waste the night being a brooding healer, like a total walking contradiction.," and with a parting wink and evasion of your fist the redhead runs off to find the Shego—Maria—to her Kim.
You huffed, shaking off the need to turn and face the women of your dreams to see if Nat was telling the truth—you knew she was, but Wanda was just far too good for you, and in your current state you'd just bring her down. Wanda frowned when she saw you walk the opposite way towards the bar, and if not for the sudden emergence of Tony and his following men with suits she'd have followed you.
The music was too loud, your outfit too tight, and the capacity for your forced niceties was at an all time low as you sat alone on this couch. Bored eyes traveling the expanse of the room to find your fellow Avengers doing their parts, flawlessly even with their beaming smiles and soft tones as they engaged with the crowd, and if like clockwork your eyes made their way back over to the gorgeous Sokovian woman.
Wanda was stood their engaged in what looked to be a riveting conversation with one of the many rich patrons, but you could see just how much she wanted to escape the interaction. You had even considered interrupting them, but then you shared a quick glance with Natasha and her knowing smirk convinced you that the couch was surely the safest bet.
After another three men tried and failed to use the Halloween gala as a means to pick her up Wanda was actually beyond fed up. All she wanted to do tonight was to be with you, she even bought snacks and rented movies, but then Tony had to go an throw a last minute party. Then there’s been your evasions, her gaze has yet to be able to catch yours even when she knows it was you who’d been staring, and the one time she got close enough you were conveniently going to top off your drink.
With the use of her powers she quickly readjusts this silly man’s route, then she uses the lack of barriers as a way to get to you, and this time you’re too busy pouting with an arm over your face to notice her approaching. Heels clicking against the linoleum is to be expected, but being an Avenger and a night owl you’ve grown pretty aware of all your teammates foot patterings. You sighed upon realizing Wanda was hastily making her way to you, and you knew with the force that her feet hit the ground that running would be a really bad call.
Once she was stood before you the soft smell of the woods infiltrated your nostrils, and so you slightly lifted your arm to get a peek at her. Beautiful was all your mind could scream, and it took everything for Wanda not to smile, too afraid to let you know she could hear them. The costume she chose was simple enough, but you knew it meant the world to her to get in touch with her roots, and fortunately for you she looked rather beautiful while doing it.
You cracked a small smile at the witch who’s eyes had yet to stop studying you, she just couldn’t get enough of your beauty—you were a total work of art to her, and this outfit you were wearing was nothing short of stunning. It was just a bit of a shock for her to see since you live exclusively in baggie hoodies and ripped jeans. She loves you just the same in that way, but she also can’t pretend that being able to see you in such a way doesn’t leave her wanting more.
That smile of yours also had her heart skipping a beat since it was the only one you’d cracked tonight, and it is what gave her the confidence to speak., "Will you dance with me? Please, pretty please!.," Wanda pleaded with a hopeful smile, she knows it's a long shot but she's taking it anyways with her hand outstretched., "Wands, you know I can't dance.," you immediately rebut and her shoulders fall and a pout takes the place of her once beaming smile., "No, no, please don't look sad. I can't handle that."
Inwardly she feels the urge to chuckle at the way you whine like a child, but if she wants to get her way she has to play up the sadness., “Nobody’s wanted to dance with me.,” she dramatically lies and you look up at her with eyes that know the truth., “Yeah right Wands, you mean to tell me that all of those drooling men were talking to you about how to make the world a better place?,” she smiles innocently to keep up appearances, but really her happiness is stemming from the jealousy lacing your tone.
“Detka, I meant to say nobody that matters.,” your heart melted at her sweet confession, and without another moment wasted you took her extended hand, allowing her to pull you out of the dented couch and onto the dance floor., “Better not make me regret this witchy.,” she giggled at your baseless threat while she not so innocently pulled your front flush to hers, her lips laid a gentle kiss to your cheek before she was settling her face against your chest, and you prayed to the heavens above that she did not feel your heart beating irregularly.
The songs were fast, but being in your own world with the witch your movements were anything but, Wanda’s hands on your hips helping to keep the dancing tempered., “Wanda, honey, if you wanted to cuddle all you had to do was ask—we can even slip out now.,” she quietly gasps when she sees you caught onto her motives with the slow dancing to rave music., “Would you really do that though?,” she asks with a nervous voice, and you’re not sure why she’s feeling so insecure, but you know it’s up to you to settle her silly fears.
“Oh Wanda, I’d literally do anything for you.,” you softly admit while looking into the soft emerald eyes that were already staring at you, your anxiety instantly gone when she smiles., “Yeah?,” she asks, her lip catching between her teeth as she awaits your response, you nodded dumbly as the gravity of the moment rendered you speechless., “Then you can start by being mine Y/N.,” you smiled widely before leaning in to peck her lips., “I’ve always been yours.”
Wanda’s lips surge forward to close the gap, as minuscule as it was it still bothered her a lot, and your soft confession made her need for you almost unbearable. Seeing as how she never wanted the moment to end her hands that were already on your lower back pulled you in until you’re completely flush against her, and once you are one slides up to tangle into your hair to keep your lips on hers. Forgetting the fact that the space around you was bustling with partygoers your lips began to trail down her jaw when she could no longer hold the kiss.
Wanda was panting while you left behind the marks you’d always wanted to see her littered with., “Detka—I pro—fuck.,” you smirk against her soft skin, feeling a twinge amused at her inability to speak, but mostly you felt proud., “Go on.,” you lightly teased, pulling away and chuckling lowly when she whined at the loss of your lips on her skin., “I—.,” she pauses and you find her sudden shyness to be adorable., “Detka, I promise you that I will protect your heart for the rest of my days…,” any urge to tease her went out the window as you looked into her glossy eyes that held only truth., “I’ve seen the way others have mishandled you, and I vow to be the one who’ll heal your heart.,” she continues on with a strong conviction.
With the hand on your head she pulled your sweet face into her chest, and you couldn’t contain your tears anymore as your body warms at her promises of unconditional love., “Going to put my healer back together one day at a time.,” she sighs softly when she feels the way you smile against her chest., “I love you Wands.,” and at that she feels a tear run down her cheek, the words she’d always wanted to hear from you finally holding their truest meaning., “I love you too my grumpy girl.”
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1,776 Words
❤️ Kaitlyn 💃
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