#is this anything i started writing it whilst inebriated

[aldryrththerainbowheart]

HIIII OMG I LOVE YOUR WRITING. Its so comforting but also quite accurate to the character’s personality.

I wondered if u could make a part 2 of Drunk, with Adrian and the reader.

Be free with your imagination i am sure it will turn out great!

🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼

Hi anon, sorry it took me so long to answer but I had no ideas what to write for this request. 😳

My writing has changed a little since I wrote part 1 of this. Hopefully, it'll be still up to standard.

Days after the incident, Adrian was still haunted by the things he had said and might have said while inebriated. It seemed rather silly, considering you haven't mentioned anything about that night, kind as you were. However, the son of Dracula was shaken after exposing himself to you, in more ways than one.

At the memory of him practically showing his naked chest in your face whilst rambling drunkenly about his loneliness, he could feel his face warming up. He undoubtedly has that unflattering shade of pink on his right now. Adrian lifted his chin from his steepled fingers, pressing his forehead against them instead. Instead of moping behind the wooden table, he should be making dinner as he watched bits of dust dancing in the last rays of evening sun streaming through the Tudor windows.

At this moment, you're probably getting both their beds ready for the night. Pulling back the bedspread and making a fire in the fireplace. You made a habit of slipping a stem of lavender from the garden and putting it under the pillows. He can hear you fussing about it, even though you're one floor higher. The dhampir's senses were finely attuned to your every breath and every movement. It came to the point where it was torturous. He wasn't just trying to dull away the pain of his past, but these pressing feelings as well.

Damn him, again and again, he's becoming attached to people only to be left every time. No doubt you will leave too, once you're able to. He'll be nothing but a fond memory...

"How's the dinner? I hope there'll be someplace left on the stove for teap-"

He's dragged away from his gloomy thoughts by the sudden sound of your voice nearing the door. You stopped mid-sentenced when you saw him sitting at the kitchen table, instead of working at the stove. He felt an immediate pang of guilt.

"Apologies I've seem to be a bit addle-brained today."

Adrian offered an apology as he started pulling the cutlery from its hooks. Hopefully with his back turned and his hands occupied, you won't notice his rather obvious fluster.

"Ah, it's alright," you waved him off in a placating manner as you rounded the table towards him. "Head still spinning from the vine, I see." you teased him as he made a fire in the stove, almost making him set his brows on fire.

As you walked past him, you gently put your hand on his back to make him step away. A whisper of a touch, yet he was tingling all over, his heart beating irregularly.

He clutched the edges of the stove, ignoring the rising heat. It can't go on like this. He has to do something.

You prepared the dinner in relative silence. You chopped mushrooms as he prepared pastry into small pans. Soon, bulky savory tarts were pulled out of the stove. He watched you wolf down four tarts in the row, while his plate was left neglected, safe for the few pokings with the fork.

"Adrian?"

His head snapped to you at the sound of your voice. He noticed you were looking at him in concern.

"What is it? You've been spaced out for days now." It was your turn to study your plate as you mumbled, "Is it...about the kiss?"

He was definitely blushing now. Adrian took a generous gulp of water from his chalice as he contemplated his answer.

"Yes and no."

You looked at him in confusion and he sighed in resignation.

"I'm sorry...my friend. The thing is..." He caressed the grooves in the ground glass. Would she even understand? What kiss meant to him?

"There have been several attempts in my life. There have been people who stayed in this castle pretending to be my friend and then turning on me as soon as I became vulnerable."

Adrian closed his eyes momentarily, chasing away the tainted memory of their hands coiling around him like vines of a poisonous plant. The pleasure, and the pain. So, so much pain... He opened his eyes and there were your eyes, filled with some much tenderness he had to suppress the urge to look away again.

"But last night, you didn't... and you could, easily so."

"I'd never-"

"I know, I know," he gently cut you off by putting his hand over yours. Your palm was much warmer than his, dainty fingers covered completely by his long ones.

"Believe it or not, but you singlehandedly restored a great deal of my hope in humanity. What once had been destroyed..."

He hasn't allowed his mind to wander to dark places, not this time.

"I don't mean to bring up such depressing subjects. But when one leads a life such as mine, you tend to... figure some things out."

"Things?" You carefully prompted, pity overrun by curiosity at last.

Adrian smiled in a self-deprecating fashion. "Well, for example, I have now discovered that in this entire world, I only have one close friend. You are my only solace, the only person that I can talk to regularly."

There was Trevor and Sypha, of course, but they found solace in one another, something deeper than friendship. Adrian understood now, what those feelings meant. His next words were full of emotion.

"I don't know what tomorrow will bring. I don't know if more demons will come and I'll be forced to fight them off. I don't know if the world will end tomorrow... and that used to not bother me. I used to not mind the idea of death. To slip into the quiet sleep..."

He trailed off, and you squeezed his fingers in encouragement. He squeezed yours right back, so you know he's not spiraling again.

"However, whatever courage I have towards that cause always sours at the thought of what comes after. What does come after do you think?"

You looked over his shoulder in contemplation, you traveled places far away from here, no doubt. Thankful you're entertaining his silly musings, Adrian patiently awaits your response.

"I'd like to think it's a place where I meet all my loved ones once more." You gave him a warm smile.

He chuckles at that. "Interesting response."

"What about you? What do you think?"

Adrian shook his head, golden locks tumbling over his shoulders, "As I said, the fear of not knowing that is the only thing that kept me alive for quite some time. But now, now that I've spent some time with you, it allowed me to clear my mind of that sort of dangerous thought. I think I may have an answer, maybe not a very good one but..."

He gingerly trails his hand from yours to the curve of your elbow and you let him. He leans closer, tone bordering on a soft whisper as he looks into your eyes.

"It doesn't matter what comes next, that shouldn't dictate our actions while we are still here. If you want something, chase it." He puts the other hand on your cheek, making his intentions clear with his actions and his words. Carefully, so you can pull away at any time.

Please don't.

"You have allowed me, to come to this mindset," he sighs. "The thought that what I want is worthwhile to pursue. So I will pursue that which I want. I will pursue... you."

It is evident that his words left you speechless. You stare at him with your mouth slightly parted. Adrian lets out a small breathless chuckle.

Is it really that shocking? After our lips have already become acquainted?

"I know...I know that I'm... half human, half vampire, so at the very least I know it can work, but it's up to you, really." His thumb caressed your cheekbone, "I will continue to pursue you for as long as you allow me."

He can see your eyes glistening with emotion, and he hoped his words touched the part of your soul he wanted them to. However you still haven't said a word and Adrian needs you to voice your desires, or lack thereof, directly.

"I bid you command me now. My devotion is solely placed at your feet. I truly cherish you. Every step you take and breath you breathe."

You close your eyes and choke back a sob as he places one small kiss on your forehead.

With a voice clogged up with emotion, you finally release him from his torment.

"I... would love... nothing more... than to be pursued by you." You say as you give him a watery smile.

He lets out a relieved sigh as he presses his forehead to yours.

"Then pursue you I shall."

It takes only a moment for the atmosphere to change around you. With hunger, you never saw in his eyes, he whispers to you hoarsely.

"Come here, you..."

The kiss is devoid of any sweetness the first one had. This one is full of fire and blood and passion that takes your breath away. You don't have time to react as he pulls you to his lap. His kiss goes down your throat and settles in your belly like a fine liquor.

[lifesupreme-if]

Dear author,

Please tell Dylan I love her very much and that she's beautiful💜

Sincerely,

-Dylan simp

tell her yourself!!!!!!!!!! she'd be so happy!!!!!!!!

___

"heyy"

Delivered 1:43 AM

Lost in the thunder of the bass, the vibration of her holophone hardly makes an impression. It takes two more messages before she even notices the flicker of her screen lighting up, muted beneath violet strobe.

"yourerpwrryy"

"*prettyyyyyyy"

"Hold on," she calls out to the dancer, stumbling clumsily to a halt. He leans against the wall, hooking skinny thumbs into the pockets of his hotpants. Waiting, easily. He's done this before.

To receive a declaration of love from the one that holds your heart, is to light up completely. To receive a drunken text at 2 in the morning, is good enough. For Dylan, anyway.

She studies every heavy-handed letter smashed into your text, tucks stringy hair behind her ear as if ready to dive deeper in. Sucking in a hopeful breath, she responds. Quickly. Lightly. Don't want to overthink it this time.

"Are you having a good night out?"

Three dots. You're typing.

"beauroful eveb"

"night in. claude came over we and syeph are drinking"

"what are youdling beauriful <3"

But there's something different, in the way you talk to her now: something there that you wouldn't have said before. No hesitation. Pretty. Beautiful. Maybe she's wrong for wanting you to mean it, but she doesn't reject it. Her heart soars.

What was she doing? She gazes through a sparkling crowd, one of prosthetic limbs and body glittered tits, until she spots him: A gangly braindance star, motifs of the Mox tattooed up and down his arms. Another night spent looking for skinship in all the wrong places. Another night spent longing for your company, instead.

"Nothing much. Pics or it didn't happen!"

As her screen comes to life with the image of You, she gawks. Gapes. Finds a warmth in her chest that spreads, squeezing her tighter than anyone she could take home tonight. The picture is blurry, but your visage in unmistakable. The forehead scar from a job gone wrong. A smile she could live in forever. You're beautiful, she thinks. You're pretty.

And she loves you.

"gotta go to sleeppretty2goodnight<3"

"i love tou"

"Uou"

"You"

"I love you, too," she breathes, and for once, she doesn't cry. There's only joy to be celebrated here. She wouldn't like to ruin it with tears.

"What?" Her forgotten companion still looms, lingering now against the door to the back booths. His fingers rap against his thigh in anticipation, aggravation, good old-fashioned impatience. "Are we doing this or not? 'Cause you're acting pretty weird now. You don't have an input, do you? I'm not getting my ass beat for some gonk's girlfriend."

Dylan's cheeks heat up, burning with a hint of mortification. Or reality. Whichever hits harder. "No, I don't... er, sorry—" She heaves a sigh, shoulders dropping heavily. "We're not doing this tonight."

"Thanks for your time!" As if she could cushion the blow, she waves a hand to his back as he disappears into the crowd. "That was a stupid thing to say. Ugh."

Left alone to brave the bustle of the room once more, the neon overhead and electric pink murals have lost their modern charm. There's only one place she'd like to be now, only one person she wants to call home.

Speaking of, as her phone buzzes softly in her hands, calling forth her infinite attention for you.

"very much"

"i love tou very much. night"

The soft skin of her lip bursts as she gnaws delicately, the smile on her face stinging as she begins to taste blood. You love her. You said you love her.

"Tell me that again in the morning and see what happens. :P Goodnight."

A final, cheeky reply as she heads out into the night, the cool air chilling the sweat on her skin. She'll be cautious with your heart. After all, she's had to work for it for so long.

[delfiore]

am i not the one you’re dreaming of, my angel?

pairing: kate bishop x reader (indie band!au)

synopsis: lead singer y/n y/l/n and bassist kate bishop of the band widowhawk balance the weight of the limelight whilst trying to figure out what exactly they mean to each other after a kiss at a party that shouldn’t have happened.

a/n: it hurt me to the core writing this because i rly don’t want to see my bby kate sad :’)

word count: 3.1k

warnings: hEAVY ANGST BUCKLE UP, toxic relationship, cheating, lots of unresolved issues and insecurities

now playing:

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

Your phone dinged, signaling a new incoming message. You really didn’t feel like replying to it as it was only eight in the morning, and you were content in having breakfast with your bandmates. However, it seemed like a very serious message from Natasha, the band manager, with punctuated sentences and no emojis; it must have been serious.

Natty💞:

“Y/N, I am seriously concerned about these boy-toy situations of yours. Bad press for you will reflect badly on the band’s image. I suggest you keep your private activities on the low.”

“Uh oh, Lena, your sister’s on my ass again.” You grinned and showed Yelena your phone.

“She’s just doing her job, Y/N/N.” She shook her head, smiling. “Is it about your new man?”

You nodded and took another bite out of your toast. Attached to Nat’s message was an article and a paparazzi photo of you kissing another singer on a sidewalk.

“Don’t you get sick of all these men that you keep screwing? Must be exhausting trying to learn all their names.” Wanda giggled teasingly.

“Who says I knew all of their names?” This made the girls giggle, all but one.

“But you must know this one’s.” Yelena said.

“Yes. Gallant Matt Murdock.” You exhaled, and leaned back against your chair. “Buys me flowers, and calls me ‘sweet girl’. I guess it’s nice, but knowing him, he doesn’t want anything serious out of this.”

“Do you?” It was the first time Kate spoke since they started breakfast. “Want something serious with him?”

Your eyes were calculated when they returned to Kate’s, as the raven-haired girl fumble with her fingers on the table with a pouted expression.

Kate Bishop was a hopeless romantic. She liked to imagine herself buying you flowers, calling you ‘sweet girl’, and kissing you on the sidewalk for all of the world to see. She had been in love with you and your charm, the way you captivated the crowd with your fluid movements, your energy, and your voice. To her, you were the entire world, but to you, she was only your best friend. You weren’t always the confident frontwoman of Widowhawk that the world knew though. She remembered the nights towards the beginning of the band when you would knock on her door, your face smeared with tears and your hands shaking because it all was getting too overwhelming. She remembered the way you clasped your hands tearfully around hers and made her promise never to leave you alone. She never did, and you were grateful.

“I’m just having fun, Bishi.” You finally said, and stood up from her chair. “It’s not like you don‘t know what that’s like. What about the girls you keep bringing over?”

“I literally brought over two people, okay?” Kate mumbled.

“And many more that remain unknown.” You stood up and grabbed your keys. “I’ll be back. Got some damage control to do.”

Maybe Kate was just imagining things, but the brush of your hand against her arm, an accidental stroke against her bare skin after you walked past, made it seem that maybe there was something more, like that night at the party all those months ago wasn’t just a figment of her own imagination.

You were clearly inebriated, and so was she. The music was so loud, and all she could focus on was you. She let you wrap your arms around her neck, pressing your forehead against hers. And where you pressed a desperate kiss against her lips, she happily reciprocated, because Kate had been dreaming of this moment for so long.

The tour was nearing, but practice for it was nowhere nearly done. The band was speeding through the setlist, but everyone knew it couldn’t be done today.

“Dude, can we take a break? My arms feel like they’re going to fall off.” Yelena complained, shaking her sore arms behind the drum kit.

“Alright, great job, guys. Let’s take five.” Wanda clapped twice.

Kate was in the middle of setting her bass down when you lead her outside. The perplexed look on her face made you giggle.

“Close your eyes, and put your hands out.” You instructed.

She followed suite, and soon felt something hard against her palms. Slowly, she opened her eyes again to find a long velvet box, blue in color. As she pried the box open, the twinkling of the necklace in the shape of an arrow captured her attentiveness.

“Happy birthday, Bishi.” You said softly, and when she looked up at you, you smiled. There were no teasing edges to the curves on your lips, no half smirk that usually accompanies darkened eyes, only warmth and fondness.

Kate loved archery. While the other kids played soccer or softball after school, her mother would take her to the shooting range, where she would hit targets after targets with a bow that was almost as big as she was. She took you to the shooting range the first time after she realized she had a crush on you.

“I love it. Thank you.” There were so many thing that she wanted to say, but she settled on less.

“Here, let me.” You reached for the necklace and wrapped your arms around her neck with each end of the jewelry in your hands.

You were so hard to read, it made her explode sometimes. The more you became confident in your own skin, it was as if the more you hid from the rest of the world, and from her. Though she was supposed to be the one you confessed all your secrets to, she could barely make out your intentions with your arms wrapped around her neck like this, yet again.

When you retracted your arms, she felt the need to bring you closer to her, as your warmth fleeted. “Thank you.” Kate whispered.

You released her, and blinked slowly, as if to say “No problem.”

“No one’s more important to me than you, Bishi.” You said.

You wrapped your arms around her, and kissed her cheek before heading back inside.

Kate couldn’t forget what you said to her. Your words lingered in her head, and she wrote a reply.

“If our love is so wrong, tell me, why does it feel so right?

Am I not the one you're dreaming of, my angel?”

When she showed the band the demo, Wanda and Yelena were ecstatic that Kate was writing again, but you didn’t utter a word.

You continued to give her the silent treatment, and Kate didn’t know what she did wrong.

Even during interviews, she’d be the one you look to when you fumble with an answer. Yet, you never spared her a glance when the interviewer insinuated the band’s success was due to your relationship with Matt Murdock. When fans crowded you on your way on the street, it would be Kate’s arm you held onto, yet you kept your head down and walked in front of her, a bodyguard taking her place beside you.

“Wanda! Over here!”

“Yelena, I love you!!”

“Y/N! Y/N! How are you and Matt?!”

“Y/N! Is it true that Matt proposed?”

“Kate, are you in love with Y/N?!”

Kate only kept her head down as she walked, looking up occasionally to check in case you trip amidst the chaos, but you were guided securely by the bodyguard whose arm wrapped protectively around your shoulder.

Two months go by and the last show of the tour arrived. Fans were started to notice Kate’s deteriorating state, the way she didn’t seem quite sober enough to get through a show. She liked to drown her sorrows in alcohol and other women because yes, the truth was, she was in love with you. She poured her heart out into the song and you didn’t even bat an eye.

“I want to leave the band.” She announced.

“What?” Yelena was the first to jump in. “Kate, you can’t! We’re in the middle of recording!”

“You don’t need me. Just hire another bassist.”

“Are you fucking serious, Kate Bishop?!”

“What’s going on?” You entered the studio, alarmed at the commotion.

“She wants to leave the band.” Yelena growled. “You, both of you better figure your shit out right now! I’m not letting this band go down just because you two fucking cowards won’t face the truth.”

The Russian stormed out of the room, Wanda tailing her and her comforting words faded in the hallway.

“You couldn’t wait until all of us were in the room to break the news?” You said quietly to hide the crack in your voice.

“Why should I? You don’t care.”

“Don’t say that.”

“STOP LYING TO ME!” Kate yelled, swinging her drunken arms at you. “All you do is lie!”

You stopped in your tracks at her outburst. “Kate, are you drunk?”

“So fucking what?!” She continued. “You lied when you said I was the most important person to you! That kiss meant nothing to you, but I meant everything to me! I’m nothing but second-best! Well, guess what, Y/N? You ruined me! You fucking ruined me because I’m in love with you and all you do is toss me aside!”

You were stunned. Kate had never talked to you like this before. She was the type to hold her tongue and talk it out afterwards if she doesn’t like something. It was one of the things you loved about her, so for her to burst out at you like that was unheard of. But of course, you thought you deserved it. You deserved it because you’ve been shitty. Your best friend, the one you bore all your secrets to, except for the biggest one which you never had the gut to tell her.

But it was smothering you, and it seemed to be smothering Kate as well.

Without a word, you stepped into her space, and brought her face to yours with both of your hands on her cheeks. You kissed her slowly, feeling her stiffen before sighing and reciprocating your affections.

Before she could tug you closer though, you pulled away.

Kate cursed at herself mentally. She had let you take over her again. She couldn’t help it.

“You’re wrong if you think that kiss meant nothing to me, Kate. I haven’t been able to stop think about it.” You gritted your teeth, and stroked her cheeks. “I’ve been treating you like shit. I know that, and I’m sorry. I wanted to—I really wanted to . . . but I was scared, Bishi.” You whispered, resting your palm on her chest. “I was scared about what this all might mean. You’re my best friend and we’re in a band together and—“

You looked up at her slowly, seeing that sympathetic gaze returning to her eyes, how her features soften, her lower lip puckered into a small pout.

“You could have talked to me. I felt invisible to you.”

“I know.” You nodded, feeling a lump in your throat. “I’m sorry. I was scared of what everyone else might think too . . . But I want to try. This. Us.”

This was all Kate wanted to hear. Five years of knowing you, four years spent agonizingly longing after you, and it all came came down to this moment. She’d be stupid to pass it up.

So Kate pulled you closer, longing to taste those beautiful lips again.

Kate was living a fantasy.

She was touring the country with her band, playing shows to thousands of screaming fans every night, then she got to go back to the accommodation and embrace you in bed.

She didn’t know how she got so lucky, but she enjoyed it as much as she could, and she has never been more in love with you.

“Morning, baby.” Kate whispered quietly as she planted soft kisses on your cheek.

You grunted and turned over your shoulder, feeling for her face. “Morning, my love.”

She kissed you. “I got you breakfast.”

“From downstairs? No, thank you. I’ve had quite enough hotel breakfast to last me a lifetime.”

“I know. That’s why I got you a croissant and coffee from the café a few blocks from here.” She held up a paper bag and smiled excitedly.

“How did you find time to walk around already? It’s like 8am.” You chuckled, and stroked her arm.

“Eh. Time doesn’t mean much anymore when you’re on tour.”

You smiled, slowly coaxing her on top of you. “I’ve got my breakfast right here.”

Kate bit her lip coyly. “Well then, bon appétit.”

With a giggle, you wrapped your arms around her neck, trapping her hovering above you. “I want you forever,” you whispered.

People were starting to catch up on it too. Fans began to crop videos as evidence for your relationship, citing a lingering look exchanged or holding each other’s hands. They were quick to dismiss your previous relationship with Matt Murdock if it meant justifying your current one with Kate. How long have they been together? Who made the first move, they were friends first? Do Wanda and Yelena know?

Wanda and Yelena knew as soon as Kate saw them again after that confrontation. Yelena only laughed boisterously and she gestured at Wanda as the Sokovian groaned and pulled out a $20 bill. Her friends were on board with the idea as long as it didn’t interfere with the band.

Everything was perfect. Maybe too perfect. And Kate thought she knew that. She didn’t want to admit it, but she knew.

You started going out more, much more than you used to. You would come back reeking of alcohol and other substances that she didn’t want to think about. Still, every night, you would hold her, kiss her, and tell her that she was your entire world.

Kate didn’t believe you entirely. You were beautiful, charming, funny. Everyone was enamored by you. It wasn’t hard to imagine other people trying their luck on you. Sometimes she barely believed it herself that you were with her—this awkward, dorky and insecure kid that needed your comfort and reassurance afterwards every time you stepped out the door.

She started making love to you much more passionately. What couldn’t be said in words, she hoped would be said in her actions.

You were feeling overwhelmed by the affection she was giving you. This was what you should have wanted, but you found yourself wanting space after a particular intimate moment with her. The guilt you dragged around pushed you into parties more frequently. The alcohol would make you forget for a while, unshackling your ball and chain, but then they yanked you back down as soon as you sobered up.

The truth was you weren’t ready. Kate was giving you everything, as she always had, but you were still struggling in the quicksand of your own issues, and you couldn’t bare to watch the day you pull her down with you.

So you did the shittiest thing you could ever do to the person you love; sleep with someone else, Matt. You hoped the infidelity would strike a clean cut when Kate ultimately finds out about it.

“We need to talk.”

You sighed and closed your eyes, bracing for the inevitable.

“Sure, baby.”

“There’s something you should know.”

You furrowed your eyebrows, and nodded warily for her to go on.

“I slept with Maya.”

The words struck you like lightning. You were paralyzed. The sense of dread came slowly at first, then it crawled along your toes, creeping up your legs, up your abdomen, and then all at once, it pierced your heart in a wretched stab. This was the pain that you were going to inflict on Kate. You were feeling it, and it burned stronger as the second passed.

“I thought being with you would lessen my insecurities. Turns out I was wrong.” Kate barely managed the words, before looking up at you with teary eyes. “I made a mistake, Y/N, it was a stupid fucking mistake. I swear to god—“

“But you could have talked to me.” You whispered, your eyes beginning to fill with tears too.

“You’re right. You’re right, and I would do anything to make it right again. Even if it means—“

“I slept with Matt.” You gritted your teeth. “Many times while we were together.”

You didn’t know why you added the last part. Maybe you wanted to hurt Kate the way she hurt you, but it was way worse. It meant that you actively chose to come back to Matt, and fail her love for you, however fragile and fucked up it was. You lied, because you wanted to hurt her, but in the process you twisted the knife into your own heart too.

You would never forget the look in Kate’s eyes, a mixture of disgust, and disappointment, and anger, and devastation.

“You don’t ever change.” She whispered, shaking her head tearfully.

“Neither do you.” You replied, clenching your jaw to stop the tears.

She left without another word, and shoved past you. The door slammed with finality, and you knew it was truly over. You woke up to a text from Nat saying Kate will leave the band, and she did the time.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

Kate drew a deep breath, feeling the lining of her lungs burn as she filled them to the brim with air before exhaling. A stage assistant had informed her that she was on in five minutes. She peered through the curtain to see a full crowd. People had seen her as a bass player as part of a band, but never as a performer on her own.

The crowd roared as soon as she set foot on stage.

She played the songs she had been keeping to herself for so long, her voice for the first time entirely her own. It was scary at first, but it was so liberating.

She decided to record and release the song she wrote when she was at her most lovesick, the song reminding her better times. Out of all the songs on the album, people seemed to give it the most amount of attention, mainly because they had the most clues about who the song was for.

Kate sang, her fingers shaking but still picking her bass, a new one now. In the illumination of the stage light, and the twinkling stars from the audience, she was happy, and finally felt like she belonged. And maybe, because of that, she thought she might have spotted a familiar face in the audience, one she felt everything with, watching her with despairing longing.

“Am I not the one you’re dreaming of, my angel?

Am I not the one you wanna love forever?”

[lizzie-is-here]

acta, non verba

iron man three- part iii

summary: you meet up with tony, and start christmas off with a bang.

wordcount: 4.1k (shits wildin)

warnings: supposed death, violence, cussing, me not being able to write fight scenes

series masterlist

Under any other circumstances, you would’ve tried to go to the beach. Maybe get blackout drunk and make some questionable decisions.

However, you weren’t in Miami to have fun. You’d swapped out your normal top for a turtleneck halter top, but you were still sweating in the suffocating heat.

You’d agreed to meet Tony a safe distance away from Killian’s mansion, but it was kind of awkward to stand in the street in tactical gear. Wiping sweat from your forehead, you looked around again, wishing to get out of the open. You didn’t feel like standing in the open with guns and knives strapped all over your body.

Not to mention that you’d finally gotten your sword back. It was a bit of work getting it from SHIELD, but you were happy to have your baby back in your hands. Even if it was a bit old-fashioned, the look of shock on peoples’ faces when you unsheathed the blade made the sore arms worth it.

Thankfully, it was Florida, and people had either saluted you or been too inebriated to notice the SHIELD agent. You slipped a knife out of its hilt and twirled it in your hands, rolling it in your fingers and flipping it occasionally.

“Jesus kid, watch where you’re flipping that thing.” Tony had finally turned the corner, dressed in sunglasses and a hoodie, covered in homemade weapons. The contrast between the two of you was hilarious: a shorter woman in tactical gear and a man looking like he was headed to a kids’ paintball game.

“I see you stopped by the local Lowe’s,” you said, stifling a laugh. He deadpanned, and grabbed one of the makeshift weapons.

“See this? Exploding Christmas ornament.” He shook it near your face, causing you to step away from the unstable explosive.

“Festive.”

————————————————————

The two of you snuck towards the house, keeping out of sight of the several guards and avoiding any cameras you saw. You decided to let him have his moment, and trailed behind him as he Mission Impossibled his way through the gardens, occasionally shooting stray guards that got too close.

Stepping into the house, you saw a few women in skimpy bikinis. One was passed out on a ping-pong table, while another was arguing with a guard over the air conditioner. The woman laying on a couch drunkenly winked at you, and you smiled back. She was cute, but this wasn’t the time to get a date.

The two of you ignored the guard that Tony had knocked out on the table and made your way to a room that apparently belonged to the Mandarin. Seeing that Tony had run out of weapons, you grabbed one from the table and passed it to him.

“Can’t I have one of yours?”

“I don’t trust you with my weapons,” you hissed,

Opening the door and stepping inside, you were met with decor, cameras, computers, and… a bed?

“It’s a set. He’s acting,” you whispered, but Tony shook his head.

“We don’t know that. This could just be his broadcasting station.”

Two women were laying on the bed, jumping as Tony yanked back the comforter. He shushed them and backed into the corner, whilst you rolled your eyes and followed him. A toilet flushed from the room over, and you drew your sword from the strap on your back.

“Well, I wouldn’t go in there for 20 minutes.”

Whoever you expected the Mandarin to be, it definitely wasn’t a mild-mannered man with a British accent. You exchanged glances with Tony, who shrugged, gun still in hand.

“Which one of you is Vanessa?” Said woman raised her hand and the actor tossed her a fortune cookie whilst explaining their history, albeit in a much less menacing fashion than he had on television a few days ago.

“There’s two people back there,” one of the girls muttered, but before anything else could be said, Tony had stepped out from behind the curtain and had his gun at the “Mandarin”’s head.

“Bloody hell. Bloody hell.” Could this guy get any more British?

“I’m not moving. You want something? Take it, although the guns are all fake because those wankers wouldn’t trust me with the real ones,” he said, sounding relatively annoyed.

You, on the other hand, were elated. “I told you he was acting! (Y/N) (L/N), right as usual!”

This only served to irritate Tony further, who ushered the women into the bathroom and began interrogating the man. Eventually, he introduced himself.

“My name is Trevor. Trevor Slattery.”

“What are you? What are you, a decoy? You’re a double, right?”

Trevor was nothing less than insulted and began to blab on about how he was an actor, and about how the Mandarin was a cover-up for Killian’s failed experiments. You decided to look around the room instead and were behind a panel when a guard walked up behind Tony and knocked him out. You were about to go full Avenger on him, but he pointed the gun at Tony’s head.

“Come with me. Or he gets blown to bits.”

Goddammit, Stark. Always the damsel in distress.

————————————————————

When Tony finally came to, he was chained to a stripped mattress frame that’d been set up on one end. You were handcuffed, and your guns had been taken. The only reason you still had your blades was because you threw out some very creative threats when they tried to confiscate them. Something along the lines of eating their children and family.

You could easily break out of the cuffs, but instead decided to let Stark solve this one. If he kept getting into shit you’d have to get him a backpack leash.

When he saw Maya, he let out a frustrated sigh. She grinned and her smile could be heard in her tone, “It’s just like old times, huh? “

“Oh yeah.” Tony said, “With zip ties. It’s a ball.” Ew.

“Please don’t talk about your past sex lives around me, thanks,” you called from where you were chained to a pole.

When they ignored you and started arguing, you took the opportunity to survey the room. Enhanced tech, experimental designs. The place was still trashy, though. You’d figure that a millionaire like Killian would be able to do some home renovation.

Speaking of, you needed to introduce Steve to HGTV-

“You know what my old man used to say to me?” Jesus fucking christ it was this bitch again. “One of his favorite of many sayings… ‘The early bird gets the worm, but the second mouse gets the cheese.’” Apparently Aldrich Killian and Tony had met before, and apparently, it had not gone very well.

Tony had failed to meet him on the rooftop of a building one New Year’s Eve, and Aldrich had nearly taken his life. Instead, in his desperation, he formed a twisted philosophy that guided him to where he was now. He was a puppeteer.

Killian bent down and rolled three metal beads along the floor. The same ones that he’d used to project the human brain during his meeting with Pepper-

The projection showed the woman, restrained by metal cuffs and glowing. Not in a good way, more of an “I-got-turned-into-a-fire-monster” way. As upsetting as the footage was, you knew you needed to act impartial.

“Now, this is live. I’m not sure if you can tell, but at this moment the body is trying to decide whether to accept EXTREMIS or just give up. And if it gives up, I have to say, the detonation is spectacular. But until that point, it’s really just a lot of pain.” The resignation on Tony’s face stirred something in you, so you decided to tackle the heat off of him for a moment.

“Wow, so you’re like, a HYDRA fanboy?” you asked, gesturing to the projection.

Aldrich whipped his head towards you and stammered for a moment. “What? No? Why would you think I would be a fan of them?”

You shrugged, acting far too casual for a hostage situation. “I don’t know, they do shit like this. Human experimentation? I have to admit that they are better at it, though. One time, I got taken while I was on a mission, and they injected this liquid into me, and I swear I’ve never felt so simultaneously nauseous and horny at the same-”

“Enough! Jesus, you do not have a filter, do you?” he exclaimed, turning away as though disgusted. Maya looked disturbed, and even Tony turned to make a face at you.

You’d bought Stark a few seconds to plan and prepare, but the focus was on him once again. Now Aldrich was proposing that Tony work for him. If proposing was holding someone in a chokehold in your basement dungeon. He was also glowing, meaning that whatever experiments he’d been running, he’d done on himself, too.

“Let him go.” Hansen’s voice rang from the other side of the lab. She had a syringe pointed to her neck, filled with what you assumed to be some form of sedative.

“1200 CCs. A dose half of this size, I’m dead.” She was brave, even if this couldn’t end well for her. “If I die, Killian, what happens to your soldiers? What happens to your product?”

Killian tried to interrupt her and negotiate, but she was having none of it. For every step he took towards her she took two or three back, shoving the needle further into her neck, almost puncturing the skin.

“What happens to you, what happens if you go too hot?

That was the final button, and before you could stop him, Killian had pulled a gun and shot her. The shock on her face was present for just a moment before she keeled over.

Tony was shaking, Maya’s death already settling into his mind along with the others he blamed himself for. You knew he took each one personally, which was probably why SHIELD didn’t want him as an agent. If you got hung up on deaths, you’d just lose more people due to lack of focus.

“You’re a maniac,” he whispered.

Killian shrugged it off. “No, I’m a visionary. But I do own a maniac. And he takes the stage tonight.” With that dramatic closing, he left the room.

You and Tony made eye contact, silently scanning the room for cameras. You didn’t see any, but it was enough of a risk that you decided to whisper.

“Stark, I know this is bad, but we’ve gotta be smart about how we do this,” you murmured, shooting a glance at him. His eyes were fixed on where Maya had fallen, seeing straight through the table to where she lay.

“Is this what you used to do? “Watch people die and move on?” he asked. His tone lacked any hostility, just an ache that settled deep in the bones of anyone who has to watch people die.

You swallowed the lump in your throat and nodded. “I couldn’t stick around while SHIELD treated people like pawns.” He stayed quiet, waiting for you to continue.

“Sometimes, I wonder if they’re any better than HYDRA.”

Before you could dive deeper into the machinations of your moral dilemmas, two guards entered the room. They were burly, probably more for looks than actual defense. You raised an eyebrow, and feigned disinterest.

The room was awkwardly quiet for a while, until a watch on the table began letting off an incessant beeping noise. A guard picked it up. Was that… Dora?

“Careful there,” Tony said, “it’s a limited edition.”

He then turned to the other guard. “Hey, Ponytail Express.” The guard turned, and Tony began enacting his plan. “What’s the mileage count between Tennessee and Miami?” You guessed that he’d ended up in Tennessee after escaping his Malibu home, and wanted to call the suit from wherever it was stashed.

“832 miles,” the man said, not even stopping to think about the number. Tony complimented him as the other guard walked over, still carrying the Dora watch. Ponytail guy glanced at the annoying device before asking if it could be turned off.

“Break it you bought it,” Tony said. The watch was then dropped on the floor and stomped on by the bald guard.

“I think I bought it,” he said. He definitely didn’t. You were sure Tony had snatched it from the kid he stayed with in Tennessee.

Tony sighed, “Okay, that wasn’t mine to give away. That belongs to my friend’s sister. And that’s why I’m gonna kill you first.” The guards were disbelieving as anyone would be in that situation. Tony’s nonchalance should have tipped them off, but they had fallen into his game.

Tony flicked his hands outward, calling the suit with a dramatic pose. You sighed, knowing it could be a minute, and slipped out of your cuffs. No one in the room noticed, occupied by Stark’s continuous countdowns and threats.

“Trust me, you’re gonna be in a puddle of blood on the ground in five, four, three, COME ON! Two…” When silence followed, the two men exchanged glances.

“How did we get this shift?” Mood. These guys would be okay if they weren’t prepared to kill you.

Tony barreled on undeterred. In the meantime, you’d grabbed your guns from where they’d been kept and readied a handgun, preparing for a shootout. The restrained man glanced to the window, and suddenly began another countdown.

“Five, four, three, two, one!” he shouted rapidly. The glove of the Iron Man suit came whizzing through the window and took its place. Tony blasted the guard that was still standing and caught himself on the wall. As Ponytail Guy stood again, you knocked him out with your gun, and stepped over his body as you heard more guards stroming down the hallway.

“Where’s the rest?” Tony asked, glancing around. You guessed he meant his suit, but were interrupted by gunfire.

You began shooting anyone in sight, letting them focus on Tony as you picked them off one by one. They were coming from every entrance, and you started forcing your way up stairs to avoid the open space.

You made it up to the balcony and disarmed one guard as Tony tackled the other. You punched him in the nose and threw a punch to his sternum. Flinging yourself up onto his shoulders, you flipped back and slammed his body front-first into the railing. Standing up and brushing yourself off, you watched as Tony held one of the guards at gunpoint. The man instantly threw up his hands, stepping back.

“Honestly, I hate working here. They are so weird.” Tony only wiggled the fingers of the gauntlet, and the man dropped his gun, booking it down the nearest hallway.

You turned to him, holstering your gun and grabbing a spear point knife from its hilt on your belt. The two of you began making you way down a hall.

“That was easy,” you said, stepping to the side to avoid getting hit by the incoming suit.

“Better late than never. Also, no it was not.” The suit was now forming piece by piece, and the hall opening up to the gardens.

Tony caught the face plate, and with the suit fully assembled, you could finally split up. He went to fly after the plane, which had the Iron Patriot suit onboard, but the thrusters misfired and he stayed firmly on the ground.

“Aw, crap,” he growled. The suit was many things, but all-terrain was not one of them, and you couldn’t help but laugh as he stumbled down the stairs. A call rang in over comms, and Rhodey responded.

He explained that Killian had caught him, and that someone else was in the suit. Tony told him to come to the main house, neglecting to tell him that the suit wasn’t fully operational.

Both of you headed back to the house, intent on finding Trevor. Some guards had run in, hurrying the remaining girls out of the room. Tony blasted one as Rhodey burst through the window, shooting down the other. Trevor had a late reaction, sipping on his beer.

Rhodey was quick to threaten him, and Slattery was just as quick to get himself out of trouble.

“I never thought people had been hurt. They lied to me,” he said, bewildered. Rhodey was confused, but Tony rushed past any questions.

“Here’s how it works, Meryl Streep. You tell him where Pepper is and he’ll stop doing it.”

“Doing what?”

Rhodey then placed the muzzle of the gun on the man’s ear, burning him. He said that while he didn’t know where Pepper was, he knew about whatever plan Killian had formed.

————————————————————

Under Trevor’s instruction, you, Tony, and Rhodey had taken his speedboat and it the water, While you drove, the other two called the vice president and warned him that the Mandarin campaign may try to draw him in, and that the Iron Patriot was being used to get close to the president. The vice president promised that he’d alert security, and the discussion turned to who to save.

“We gotta make a decision. We can either save the president, or Pepper. We can’t do both.” Tony wasn’t taking either option, however, and spoke to Jarvis about clearing the lab of his Malibu home before checking the charge on the suit he was wearing. He unhooked himself from the jumper cables and stepped into the interior of the ship to control the suit remotely.

After infiltrating the plane, he took out one EXTREMIS individual and saved some of the flight attendants that had fallen from the plane. From the wheel, you could hear him screaming about how one of them was a “chunky monkey,” whatever that meant.

Rhodey went to check on him, and you listened in best you could. From the sound of it, he hadn’t been able to get the president, but he wasn’t dead yet. Tony asked JARVIS about it being time for something, and you sped towards your destination.

————————————————————

Once the boat arrived at the a massive ship, you used all of your stealth skill to sneak the speedboat close enough to sneak onto the larger ship. The three of you snuck around shipping containers, peeking around corners and avoiding spotlights.

You turned one corner and spotted a guard, ducking as quick as you could. Turning to Tony, your eyes widened.

“Zip up your fucking hoodie!” you hissed.

Tony looked confused, “What, why?”

“Because you have a giant glowing circle in the middle of your chest, asshat!”

Rhodey had peeked behind the corner and turned back around as Tony begrudgingly zipped his jacket.

“He’s strung up over the oil tanker.” Well, at least the President Ellis wasn’t dead yet. “They’re gonna light him up, man.”

“Viking funeral. Public execution,” Tony whispered. You frowned.

“No, it’s more than that. It’s a fear tactic. Killian will endorse a new president, and with the Mandarin under his control too-”

“He’ll own the war on terror.” Tony finished your thought for you.

Your merry group decided to split up, with you going off on your own to act as backup when shit inevitably hit the fan. You slipped into the shadows, moving without making a sound. Like it or not, this was your specialty.

The two men were much less stealthy, clambering up steps and getting immediately spotted as they stepping into the light. As gunfire opened up, you rolled your eyes. Just as you were about to head in, you saw pinpricks of light approaching. Were those… suits?

Countless prototype Iron Man suits came flying in, firing at the enhanced individuals. One landed close to you, and you grabbed on as it flew you to where Rhodey and Tony were surrounded.

“Merry Christmas, buddy,” Stark said, patting Rhodes on the back. With a flourish, the suits scattered, each using unique skill sets to eliminate any enemies.

“Can I have one of your guns now?” the billionaire asked, holding a hand out expectantly. You tossed one at him, knowing you’d probably never see it again, and watched as he donned another suit and flew away, before another came up to you and Rhodey.

“Can I give you a lift, Colonel? Miss?” came JARVIS’s voice. Rhodey sighed, and let out an embarrassed mumble before embracing the machine.

“No thanks, J. I’ve got it handled.” You refused to do the same, and ascended via grappling hook instead. As cliche as they were, they were some of your favorite tools. While Rhodey ran to help the president, you unsheathed your sword and went to cover for him. Two EXTREMIS individuals were running straight at the two of you, and you took on one as the other followed him down onto a shipping container.

You cracked your neck and flourished the sword, before charging the woman. She made a grab for the blade, but you kept swinging and cut straight through her hand. Even with enhanced healing, she screamed and bent down. You took the opening and stabbed down, kicked her body off of the railing before it could damage your beloved sword.

Rhodey, in the meantime, was swinging himself and the president onto the platform next to you, before asking for the suit back. He turned towards you and threw a look at the sword.

“Hey, don’t knock it until you try it.” You shrugged, “Go ahead, I’ve got it from here.”

As he and the president flew away, you started looking for Tony and Pepper. When you finally saw the man, it was just him and Killian on a walkway. Tony was bent over the railing, but the only thing down there was fire…

Oh no. Pepper.

You ran as fast as you could, completely disregarding your safety at this point. You slid down metal beams and swung along wires, making your way towards the two. They had begun fighting, and Tony’s anger was evident in every attack. He went through suit after suit, avoiding dozens of close calls in a vicious attempt to avenge Pepper.

Just as you made it below them, Tony had entrapped Killian in Mark 42, and detonated the broken suit. You caught him as he slid down, swinging him onto the next platform and avoiding the falling debris. He jumped into a suit as you rappeled down, sprinting down the metal supports as the fire raged behind you.

Once you were both on the ground, you kneeled next to him and placed a hand on his back. He’d won, but it cost him the love of his life. Pepper had grown to be such an important person in your life, and you knew that it would be months, maybe even years before you accepted her loss.

Just as you were about to try and comfort him, the burning metal in front of you groaned. You rose to your feet as a very crispy Aldrich Killian emerged from the fire, limping and crackling.

He began a monologue about how he was the Mandarin, but before he could strike, he was smashed sideways by a metal pole. Or, more accurately, by an unharmed and firey Pepper Potts. You sighed out in relief, while Tony sat awestruck.

Then, shit went sideways. When did it not?

A suit began firing at Pepper, attacking her due to the system targeting EXTREMIS heat signatures. She glared at Tony, before jumping and punching through the suit, deactivating it. She then turned her attention on Killian, backhanding him a good few yards before spotting a missile on the ground.

She kicked it, sending it hurtling towards his head, before shooting it midair. The resulting expolsion singed the hair on your arms, and you took a few large steps back. Pepper took heavy breaths, before looking back at the two of you.

“Oh my God. That was really violent,” she said, somewhat in shock.

“You scared the devil outta me,” Tony started, “I thought you were-”

“I was dead. Why? Because I fell 200 feet?” she quipped. “Who’s the hot mess now?”

“It’s still debatable,” you said, nodding your head towards Tony, who was still sitting on the ground.

He nodded. “She beat me by one second. It’s probably tipping your way a bit. Why don’t you dress like this at home? Hmm?”

You left the two lovebirds to work through this new hiccup, and walked over to the giant Christmas tree. It was made solely of lights, and had somehow survived the explosions. You kicked out the middle pole and grabbed the star before it could smash on the ground, the momentum from the falling decoration spinning you in a circle.

You decided to keep it as a souvenir and tucked it under your arm, yanking the cord and looping it. As Tony and Pepper hugged, he snapped towards you.

“Hey kid, look up.” You did as asked, and were met by the remaining suits self-desctructing. It was reminiscent of fireworks, and even though you were stuck on a boat, in the middle of the ocean, after defeating a global terrorist threat, you couldn’t think of a better way to start Christmas.

a/n: 4k words 👁👄👁 girl that’s crazy for me. anyway I finished this at like 2am so have fun <3 I finally get to write my favorite movie from the mcu franchise, so expect the catws parts to be longer

[kyuus4ku]

𝗪𝗜𝗡𝗘 𝗔𝗡𝗗 𝗦𝗢𝗔𝗣 𝗕𝗨𝗕𝗕𝗟𝗘𝗦

chuuya nakahara

genre: minific ; fluff

warnings: mentions of blood, a little bit of profanity

word count: 2.1K

Your head throbbed with a dull sting as you carried your aching back to sit upright on the bed. Rubbing your eyes in exhaustion, a sharp sigh escaped your lips. You had a long week, and the missions the boss sent you on weren't easy ones. As one of the Port Mafia Executives, the number of reports you had to write and dirty tasks you had to deal with were numerous, but it seemed as if the pressure that initially weighed on you was subsiding, or perhaps you were just slowly getting used to it.

Nevertheless, it was easier than before since you could work alongside Chuuya.

It seemed as if you both shared each other's burdens of the stress imposed on you everyday. Other than that, it was nice having a partner who knew exactly what you had to deal with at work. It sort of saved you the trouble of explaining and elaborating on details of how your day went, since the both of you stuck together most of the time. Even your colleagues were well-aware of how close you were. Disregarding the countless times Dazai, who was your esteemed colleague but also your close friend, had mockingly declared that you both acted like 'a pair of pathetic, lovesick teenagers,' the fact still remained that you and Chuuya were highly respected at the Port Mafia because of what your ideal duality was capable of accomplishing.

But today, you didn't bother thinking about work. It was the last thing you wanted on your mind. You turned your head to your side, and found that Chuuya was not sleeping next to you. You got out of bed and started humming a tune whilst making your way to the bathroom to freshen up. Your head was cluttered with thoughts about what your plans were for today, since it was one of those rare opportunities to spend some quality time with Chuuya, who wished to do the same with you, too. Just as you were about to get out of the bathroom to look for him, you heard a voice coming from behind the shower curtain.

"Oi," Chuuya's morning voice rang groggily, "what happened to wishing your boyfriend a simple 'good morning'?"

You tittered lightly and proceeded to open the curtain, only to find Chuuya comfortably relaxing in the bathtub with a glass of wine in his hand. A grin broke through his expression as your eyes rested on him.

"Good morning, idiot," you chimed sweetly, "how long have you been in here?"

Before he could respond, you held your index finger up in realisation as you recognised that strong scent hanging in the air. Chuuya looked at you innocently as he tried to think of a way to justify the fact that he used too much of your favourite vanilla soap in the bath. You also realised that there were more bubbles than usual, so you quickly deduced the situation and frowned at him in fake disappointment.

"I'll get you more soon," he added awkwardly before you could say anything.

"How much did you use?" you inquired seriously, attempting to scare him.

"Half the bottle... sorry... it took a while to bubble up... I was really confused," he scratched the back of his head guiltily.

"I'm kidding, Chuu~" you chuckled softly. You proceeded to remove your clothes and carefully slid into the tub to sit across him. He had prepared another glass just for you. Pouring a portion of one of his most expensive wines into it, he checked to see if you were seated comfortably.

"What's the occasion?" you asked as the sweetness of the alcohol washed over and soothed your tastebuds. The bitter aftertaste and the way it flooded over all your distressing thoughts about work summed up just how much you liked it.

"I'm a great boyfriend," he said airily, a smirk curling up the corners of his lips.

"Nah... admit it," you replied nonchalantly, "you just love spoiling me."

Chuuya laughed at this, not bothering to differ with your statement. The both of you sat in silence for a bit, casually sipping from your beverages and engulfing yourselves into your thoughts, while slowly getting a little light-headed from the gradual intoxication of the wine. The alcohol seemed to be doing a great job of relaxing your sore joints, and bringing Chuuya into a flurry of lukewarm emotions which stood in contrast to his usual agitated mood.

However, this changed as Chuuya broke his train of thought when he noticed the bruises lining your right shoulder. His eyebrows furrowed in concern, so he leaned forward and reached out his hand, gently brushing the tips of his finger against them and catching you off-guard at the same time.

"What happened here?" he asked, observing it carefully as your hand reached out to push away his. You didn't really like it when he showed too much concern over such trivial things, even though you deeply appreciated it. Since working in the Port Mafia often posed threats to the both of you physically, these sort of minor injuries were normal, but he never failed to dote after you. He took care of you as best he could, and you did just the same for him. This was one of the million reasons why Dazai often referred to you both as 'the cheesiest couple to walk on this godforsaken planet.'

"It's nothing," you held your hand over your shoulder, pressing the bruises lightly to see if they still hurt as much as they did a few days ago, "It's just from that dumb fight that broke out a few days ago. Remember?"

"Where was I?" a look of annoyance replaced his concerned expression, "why didn't you ask for help?"

"I managed it just fine," you replied rather abruptly, trying your best to brush it off. You two often argued about such things, but today, the last thing you wanted to do was fight over something so minor.

Chuuya stared at you seriously while you tried to avoid his gaze. Your heart raced a little at the thought of a potential argument breaking out, so you decided to diffuse the tension since it was supposed to be a day of rest, and... slight inebriation.

"Chuuya," you subtracted the ego your expression held, and assumed a calmer, more tender tone, "it's nothing to worry about, okay?"

He pursed his lips as his eyes travelled down to your bruises, then back up to meet your gaze, "please, be more careful, for fuck's sake."

He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. The pace at which your heart was beating slowed down to keep up with the alcohol's minor effect on your body, and Chuuya's sharp features, with its present undisturbed guise, had a strange way of setting you at ease, too.

Maybe it was just the wine talking, but you didn't let anything stop you from soaking up every fibre of this moment.

"Hey, don't act as if you didn't come home with blood all over your clothes a few weeks ago. It was a fucking bloodbath over here, and all I got were a few bruises," your playful teases overtook the silence which the both of you were too captivated by for a while.

"Shut up. Don't make me remind you about how you were freaking out," he mentally mustered up the theatrical skill hidden deep inside him to imitate your voice, "'Fuck, there's blood everywhere! Chuuya, how are you feeling? It's okay, I'm going to patch you up... where the fuck are the bandaids!? Oh my- okay, wait, I'll be back, don't move. Oh, wait, you can't- sorry, just give me a moment-"

"I had all the right to freak out, dumbass!" you cut him off and giggled as he shook his head dismissively, trying his best not to smile but failing all the same.

"On a serious note," Chuuya uttered after some contemplation, "if something like that happens again, call out my name."

"In the middle of a fight?" you tilted your head, perplexed.

"Yeah," he responded plainly.

"What are you going to do? Bitch-slap them?" you asked with a mischievous grin, unable to take him seriously.

"Make them regret it," Chuuya replied bluntly before a devious smile broke through his serious expression, "of all people, you know what I'm capable of."

"I do," you assured him, "but why?"

The question was genuine, and he decided to respond with brutal honesty.

"I don't take people's wellbeing lightly," he said, sipping on his wine while keeping his gaze locked onto you, "especially the people I give a damn about. So if anyone ever crosses that line— I'll kill them."

You felt something shift inside you.

His aggression and fierce loyalty seemed to overwhelm you. No one had ever spoken for you like that.

He took note of your silence, and wondered why you became quiet all of the sudden.

"What's wrong?" he asked you, gesturing for you to come over to his side. You did accordingly and made yourself comfortable in between his legs by stretching out your own, so that the both of you made good use of the space in the bathtub. The back of your head rested on his chest as the two of you blankly stared at the bubbles that surfaced the soapy water decoratively. He took away the wine glass from your hands and placed both the glasses on the cabinet nearby, where your essential oils and premium soaps were housed. He reached out to the lowest shelf for a pack of cigarettes and a lighter.

"Nothing," you replied calmly, "thank you."

"For what?" he asked, slowly getting a cigarette out of its box, careful not to get the tobacco rod wet.

"Don't know..." you replied dreamily, "no one's ever..."

Your voice trailed off. Chuuya sensed that you weren't in the mood to respond, so he reached his hands in front of your face with a cigarette in between his fingers, and placed it in between your lips carefully, with his face peeking over your shoulder to ensure that he had the permission to do so. As he gently handled your jaw in one hand and the lighter in the other, he lit it up for you.

"There's no reason to thank me," he leaned back once again as you painted the air with wisps of smoke. You remained silent as you handed him the cigarette. He held it in his hand and opened his mouth again, "this job really sticks a fuck ton of needles up the soles of your feet, so I can't help but feel worried about you."

"I'm worried about you, too," you replied as he passed you back the cigarette, puffing out clouds of smoke smoothly, "you know that, right?"

"Of course, I do," he scoffed, surprised at your question, "you're the one who doesn't seem to get that."

"Huh? What do you mean?''

Chuuya took a while to come up with an answer because he was trying to pick out words that he meant from the bottom of his heart.

"I signed up for this shit. I signed up for worrying about your dumbass and wanting to slice the throats of anyone who hurts you, let alone, touches you. So there's no reason to push my concern for you away; it won't go away. I'm just like that. I just care for you that way."

You giggled at his statement; that was the only way you seemed to know how to respond.

"What's so funny?" he growled grumpily.

His statement rewinded and played itself over and over again in your head.

"I feel like the luckiest person alive when I'm with you," were the words that came out of your lips breathlessly.

"Damn, it took you that long to realise?" he chuckled lightly and wrapped his arm around your abdomen to bring you closer toward him, "I'm going to keep you safe... whether you like it or not."

You turned back to peek at his casual smile and leaned towards him to place your lips on his; his fingers travelled up the back of your neck and into your wet hair as he pulled your head closer to his. Your body was physically enchanted by his embrace, to the point that your fingers started playfully drawing curly, deformed doodles on his bare chest. The essence of tobacco and wine were exchanged as your lips continued kissing his.

The rest of the day was similar to that morning you spent in the tub, except that it involved a slightly more chaotic type of drunkenness by which you two wreaked havoc wherever you could in the comfort of your home. It was an activity you two started looking forward to every weekend: just the two of you, drinking wine in the bathtub lined with vanilla-scented bubbles.

author's note: Heyo! This is pretty much my first post on this blog. I'm not very new to writing but this is my first attempt at drabble/short story writing revolving around an established character lol I hope you liked it! I'll make up a masterlist after I've written more fics/drabbles so I will do my best to come up with good content! Thank you for reading(◡‿◡✿)

[utterlyinevitable]

Could you do

11 for Ethan x Odette

20 for Ethan x Becca

from the First vs. Last writing prompts?

I hope it's not too much. Thank you! ❤️

Thanks so much for the request! 💕 i just went with whatever came out. apologies for any mistakes or nonsensical rambling. 

> first vs last list <

Small Moments (Ethan x Odette)

11. First touch 

A companionable hand squeeze. A rub of the shoulders here or there. His hand in hers as she’s bandaged him up. All of them quick, natural brushes of support; small sentiments of understanding. Something they don’t think anything of, it’s all part of the job - the bond they’ve formed. 

The first time Ethan and Odette really touched one another for longer than a fraction of a second is when her arms wrapped around him. The biggest embrace she’s ever given. Hands lingering and rubbing instinctive soothing circles along his back. Her neck craning to let his heavy head rest on her shoulder; Ethan’s slumped body using her for support. 

This is the kind of support she’s seldom given anyone else. Not like this. Not hunched over on the gym floor, wrapping her body around a broad man keening into pieces she’s trying so hard to keep from fully shattering. 

She’s never done something like this before, for anyone. 

Ethan’s never let anyone see him like this, let alone let himself need this. 

Odette holds him as he cries. Her hands working his back, shoulders, forearms, anywhere to help sooth the heaving chest whilst he leans against her. 

Neither really think about what they’re doing - breaking down fine barriers - It just is. It’s what’s needed. 

It’s just the beginning of how much they need the other. 

Last touch

“Okay. I’m going,” Odette announces with finality. 

She’s staring at her suitcases. Out the corner of her eye she can see Ethan raising a brow in wordless questioning. 

She’s been muttering the phrase as she packs the entirety of the last two days. 

“I mean it this time.” 

Ethan doesn’t say anything, just moves closer. Until he’s a breath away from her. 

“I know.” 

His arms wind around her waist, cradling her close. 

Naturally Ode leans into him. Her hands trailing up his clothed arms delicately; as if taking the muscles to memory. Drawing light patterns until her fingers graze the freshly cut hair at the base of his head. 

“I wish I could take you to the airport,” he says. 

“I know.” 

Neither thought she’d have to move across the country this soon. 

“I’ll be fine,” Ode tries so hard to reassure.  

“It’s not you I’m worried about.” 

Two sets of darkened and cloudy eyes meet when Ode cups Ethan’s cheek. “You’ll survive.” 

They both know she’s right. They’ll both survive, but they don’t want to. 

“I’ll visit as soon as I can.” 

“Please don’t push yourself. We knew what we’re in for. Edenbrook needs their Chief more than I do.”

Ethan presses his desperate lips to hers, as if telling her he doesn’t give a damn what the board or the hospital needs; he’s conveying what he needs. Which, as always, is her. 

Just as it deepens and her arms are wrapped so tight around his neck, their phones sound. Ethan’s with a hasty buzz and Odette’s with a resounded ring. 

With one lasting peck she picks up her bags and walks out the door. 

Liquid Courage (Ethan x Becca)

20. First time seeing them super drunk 

He’d thought he’d seen her drunk before. 

The boisterous sounds of her and her friends giggling in the corner of Donahue’s for all to hear. Singling and making a ruckus and doing whatever it is they do. He’s also quite certain he and Becca have drowned their sorrows into oblivion together. 

He knows the way her ears and neck flush red. The way her brown eyes near black as they’re consumed by her pupils. The lopsided smirk and perpetual parting of lips he knows can’t end well for him. 

Ethan recalls - purely convinced - of her inebriation in Miami and his too. How else had they ended up the way they did. 

He’s seen her lose herself in the music; singing at the top of her lungs. But, as he’s come to realize, he’s never once witnessed her beyond reproach. 

His phone rings at such an unsociable hour. 

Ethan should be asleep but restful nights are far from plenty. 

Against all reason, he answers. 

It’s in the heavy breaths and confidently shattered tone that Ethan knows. Understands he’s never once encountered her properly drunk before. She’s drunk enough to phone an ex... what? 

Becca’s certainly seen him at his lowest point. The guilt washes over Ethan at being a part of hers. 

Last time seeing them super drunk

“Another already?” he chides as he approaches his wife - his wife! - at the open bar, signaling to the bartender he’d like whatever she’s having. 

“I should be asking you the same thing.” Her smile is crooked and Ethan can already see the stain of red wine lips overtaking her lipstick. The flush of her neck and chest peeking out from beneath the mesh of her ivory gown. 

“My tolerance is higher.” 

“Sure.” 

Ethan can’t help but wrap his arms around her and place a kiss to her balmy forehead as they wait. 

“I also did not start the day with mimosas,” he mutters against her skin. 

“Two words;” she holds up two fingers to accentuate her point “Family. Colleagues.” 

He chuckles, “Point taken.” 

They both give a nod in thanks as they take their drinks, drawing a long sip that parallels the exhausting day. 

“What else is on the list?” 

Once again Becca starts to count things off her fingers. “Did the rounds. Did the pictures. The first dance...” her smirk grows disastrously wide and her eyes glitter under the fairy lights; “I think we’re good to indulge.”  

And indulge they did. 

Refined shots with her friends. Champagne toasts formally and informally by anyone who was willing to listen and sing the praises of such a fine couple. Unabashed indulgent kisses in front of everyone. 

Not a care in the world. 

Ethan and Becca snuggled in the back of the car driving them up to their private cabin on the property. 

The two of them fumbling through the door and shedding the clothes they’ve been in for nearly fifteen hours. 

Naked and slicked with days old sweat, they fell into bed. Becca fitting perfectly in Ethan’s arms as they drifted off into sweet, publicized, marital sleep. 

_____________________________

a/n: thank you for reading 💕

@openheartfanfics 

> complete masterlist <

Perma:

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

@adiehardfan @headoverheelsforramsey @dickgraysonsscrumptiousbooty @reputaytion-xiii @jerzwriter  @kachrisberry  @aishwarya26

Ethan:

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

[fortheloveofwonderland]

Perfect Sense - Emily Prentiss x Tara Lewis

A/N - on the eighth day of shipmas fortheloveofcriminalminds gave to me…Temily Fluff! All Shipmas fics will be posted at 7.30PM GMT. Requested by Anon. Find my Shipmas masterlist here. Find my full masterlist here. My taglists are open for Shipmas, Spencer x Reader and all works so let me know if you want to be added.

Requested: Yes l No

CW: just had a need to write some silly, fluffy, drunk, giggly Tara and Emily. Drinking and silliness.

Plot: In which Garcia and JJ find out about Tara and Emily's secret relationship thanks to a drunken girls night.

WC: 3.4K

—————————————————–

The team didn’t very often get to blow off steam; their hectic schedules didn’t leave them with much time to breathe let alone anything else.

Serial killers never took the night off.

They’d been out of the state on cases more and more recently, barely spending a night at home before they had to hit the road again.

Tonight was the first night they actually had off in weeks and the girls had all been in agreement upon going to a bar and having some fun.

It felt so good to be out, to not be staring at the same four walls in a hotel room that inevitably looked just like the last one and the one before that. They didn’t get to let their hair down very often, and two members of the group in particular had let go more so than the others.

“Do you ever just think though? Like really think I mean.” Tara leant on the table staring at Garcia with glossy eyes, her words a little slurred. Garcia raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow at her.

“Think about what Tara?” Garcia questioned with a smirk.

“You know just…thinking. Like really, really thinking.” Tara was nodding as if that was supposed to help.

Garcia looked to JJ on her left.

“Do you know what Lewis is talking about?”

“Not a clue.” JJ shook her head with a laugh.

“I know what you mean Tara. Like thinking, really thinking.” Emily reached out to put her hand on Tara’s shoulder, missed and nearly fell into her lap. She tried again, making her target on the second attempt.

“Thank you Emily, I'm glad someone is on my wave…wave...?' Tara scratched at the back of her head in contemplation. She was an incredibly smart woman, but the wine she’d consume had really gone to her head.

She made an odd humming noise. “Same page. I'm glad someone is on the same page.”

“These two just don't get you.” Emily shook her head, eyes just as glossy as Tara’s.

“See,” Tara looked accusingly at JJ and Garcia, well at least that was the look she was going for. “Someone knows what I mean.”

“I'm glad someone does.” JJ muttered under her breath.

“You’ve just got to think sometimes.” Emily looked at them now and pointed a finger at JJ or Garcia, neither of them really but it was pointed somewhere in their general direction.

“You guys are wasted.” Garcia chuckled, shaking her head at her teammates who were more than a little intoxicated.

“No, I think you will find it's you…Penelope Garcia who is the wasted one.” Tara folded her arms with a defiant nod of her head.

Emily started giggling to herself and JJ let out a large grunt of laughter.

“Yes Garcia is the drunk one.” JJ laughed.

Tara grunted a little as she leant back in the chair. She let her head flop back, hair falling over the wooden back of her seat. She drummed her fingers in an absent-minded fashion on the table in front of her.

Garcia and JJ exchanged a look and they couldn't help but laugh at their teammate’s inebriated states. Sure Garcia and JJ were tipsy but they were nowhere near the states of the other two. They would like to says its because they could handle their drink better but that wasn't strictly true.

Maybe Garcia and JJ were partially to blame for the states of their teammates, ok so they were solely to blame. It had started off as just a bit of fun, giving Tara and Emily doubles whilst they drank singles and then JJ had come up with the idea of giving them Sambuca shots whilst JJ and Garcia did shots of water pretending to be Sambuca.

They hadn't planned on Tara and Emily getting this drunk however. They just wanted them to loosen up. Suddenly Tara was sitting back upright, holding her head in her hands and swaying a little in her chair.

“I'm dizzy now.” She mumbled into her hands.

JJ and Garcia chuckled.

“I'm not surprised.” Garcia stood up shaking her head.

“Right Tara I'm pretty sure it's your round.” Garcia rubbed her hands together.

“Wasn't it my round my last time?” Tara looked up at her through severely glazed over eyes.

“No it was my round last.” Emily nudged her in the arm and a combination of Emily pushing her harder than she meant to and Tara not expecting it sent her flying off her chair.

“Oww.” Tara grumbled hitting the floor with a thud.

JJ had to bite her lip to stop herself laughing and Garcia just rolled her eyes. Emily leapt up and ran over to Tara’s side.

”Tara! I'm so sorry are you ok?” She sounded remarkably sober for a second, as if the idea of the Tara being hurt had been enough to erase a night of drinking.

“Yeah.” Tara groaned a little looking up at Emily and blowing her hair from her eyes.

Emily pulled the other woman up to her feet.

“Actually it was my round last.' JJ told them but she wasn't sure anyone was listening to her.

Emily sat Tara back in her chair carefully as though Tara was made of glass and she might break.

Garia was chuckling to herself it was such a weird sight.

“Yeah maybe you two don't need anymore.” Garcia turned to JJ. “Just you and me Jayje, join me in a drink?” Garcia slipped out from the table trying to ignore Emily who was cooing over Tara.

“Anything for five minutes away from tweedle drunk and tweedle drunker.” JJ shook her head with a laugh following Garcia towards the bar.

“I’m starting to think this was a bad idea.” JJ patted Garcia on the back as they walked.

“You and me both.” Garcia sighed. “I didn’t realise Tara was such a lightweight.”

“Yeah and what's with Emily? I don't think I've seen her this drunk before.” JJ ordered her and Garcia both a drink with the bartender and leant on the bar.

“It was all fun and games getting them drunk and that but we're the ones that have to get them home.” Garcia sighed, they really only had themselves to blame for this.

“Bless them though at least they're having fun.” JJ tried to see the brighter side.

She paid the bartender and took a hefty sip of her drink. “Just look at them, they…oh my gosh!” Garcia gasped staring at her two teammates who she expected to be giggling over something moronic but what they were doing instead made her freeze.

“Oh gosh what?” JJ turned to look too. “Oh gosh.”

“What are they doing?” Garcia was impressed she hadn't dropped her drink. She felt as though her jaw had hit the floor.

“I think that…they're making out.” JJ was just as thrown as Garcia. Yes they were definitely making out, somewhat messily by the looks of things. One of Emily’s hands was buried in Tara’s hair, the other holding her face firmly. Tara had her arms snaked around Emily’s neck as they kissed.

“Well yes I can see that.” Garcia still couldn't move. “But why?”

“I have no idea.” JJ wanted to look away but she couldn't bring herself to. The strangest thing was, this didn't strike either of them as a one-time thing, this looked like two women who very much knew the other intimately. This was not a one off.

“Do we…go over there? Or just leave them to it?” Garcia finally moved, tearing his eyes away to look at JJ.

“I kind of want to know what's going on.” JJ didn't take her eyes off the two who were now somewhere lost down each other's throats, instead she was suddenly walking back over to their table, Garcia hot on her.

JJ coughed loudly as she came to a stop in front of Emily and Tara but they didn't seem to hear her, they were too indulged in each other's mouths.

JJ rolled her eyes.

“What is going on?” JJ practically shouted trying to get their attention.

Finally Tara pulled away from Emily a little, letting her hands fall back into her lap. She looked up at JJ with a dopey smile.

“We were making out.” She told JJ like this was an everyday occurrence, which it pretty much was but JJ and Garcia didn't know that.

“Yes, we can see that,” Garcia rolled her eyes; she knew Tara was drunk but that hadn’t been at all helpful. “What we mean to say is, why are you making out?”

Tara frowned at Garcia like she didn’t understand the question, which was highly likely considering how much alcohol she’d consumed, and then she turned to look at Emily who was also frowning.

The two women stared at each other, seemingly forgetting Garcia and JJ’s presence.

“I don’t understand the question.” Tara slurred, squeezing Emily’s knee as she did so.

“Me either.” As if in retaliation, Emily reached over and gently stroked Tara’s cheek. Tara purred at the touch, actually purred and Garcia and JJ were more confused now than before.

“Seriously, can one of you tell us what’s going on?” JJ spoke up, pulling the two women back around.

It was like when they looked into each other’s eyes no one else was around. And to Garcia and JJ, that was really odd.

Emily and Tara simultaneously turned back to the other two, looking at them like they had gone mad. Yes, Garia and JJ were the ones that had gone mad.

“We were making out, that’s what was going on.” Emily told them once more.

“But why? God you two really have had too much to drink, I think it’s time to go home.” Garcia shook her head, helping Tara up out of her chair and wrapping an arm around her waist.

JJ followed suit and helped Emily up, holding her the same way and they led the two drunker team members out into the cold winter night.

Once outside, Tara freed herself from Garcia.

“Emily walk with me!” She spun around in a circle with her arms in the air and only stumbled a little.

Emily made an odd little sound, something that sounded a lot like happiness JJ thought and then she was freeing herself from JJ and running over to Tara, practically falling into her arms.

Tara wrapped Emily tightly into her body and they twirled together, the other two watching on.

Emily buried her head into Tara’s neck and inhaled deeply.

“Oh Tara you smell so good.” She mumbled into her skin but everyone heard her. Tara placed a gentle kiss into Emily’s hair, tightening her grip on the other woman.

“Thank you Emily.” She blushed slightly, JJ and Garcia saw this.

“What is this?” Garcia didn’t know who she was talking to, anyone really. She just wanted some kind of answer.

“Will you stay with me tonight Tara?” Emily looked back up at Tara, her eyes illuminated by the streetlight above her.

Tara cupped Emily’s face and kissed her briefly.

“Any time Emily you know that.”

“Can they not hear us?” JJ turned to Garcia who shrugged stupidly.

“Or see us?”

“Oh shush.” Tara called over to them, over the top of Emily’s head.

“Yeah talk about a mood killer.” Emily slipped her hands into Tara’s letting their fingers entwine.

“I’ll race you down the block Emily!” Tara suddenly screeched and then with a quick squeeze of Emily’s hand she took off running.

Emily was giggling wildly as she began running after her.

JJ blew a long breath out of her mouth.

“Do we go after them?’ She shrugged, completely baffled by the night's events.

“Probably a good idea before one of them hurts themselves. Jeez, I will not be doing this again in a hurry.” Garci ran her hand through her hair and followed in Tara and Emily’s footsteps.

“I’m going to catch you Tara!” Emily laughed.

“No way, I am far too fast for you! I am …whooooa!’ Tara tumbled in her heels, tripping over a crack in the curb, or a bit of rubbish on the street or maybe even just thin air; regardless Tara tripped and tumbled to the concrete pavement.

“Shit!” She groaned loudly.

And somehow, blame it on the drink, Emily didn’t see her, or she did and her brain didn’t react quickly enough, most likely the latter, Emily tripped over Tara and came tumbling down on top of her.

JJ didn’t know whether to cry or laugh or both.. Was this all really happening?

“Ouch.” Tara and Emily groaned simultaneously, rolling around on the hard sidewalk.

JJ and Garcia caught up with them, standing over them, casting a shadow on them as they wriggled about in the street.

“Are you two ok?” Garcia put her hands on her hips, not sounding all that bothered.

It wasn’t that she didn’t care; it was more that she was a little fed up of drunk Tara and Emily now if she were honest.

“Hmmmmpfff.” Emily grumbled, nuzzling her head into Tara.

“Ouch…my…everything hurts.” Tara whined, also snuggling closer to Emily.

“It’s ok, I’m here.” Emily’s voice was so soft and loving, with just a hint of a drunken slur. She wrapped Tara into her, cradling her frame and cooing soothingly into her hair, which at this point in the night was all over the place.

“Don’t let me go please Emily.”

“Never.”

“Seriously guys, you have had far too much to drink, this is getting strange now.” JJ went to reach to help Tara up off the floor but she pulled out of JJ’s grasp making a groaning noise of disapproval.

“What’s strange about it? We’re just having a little hug.” Tara mumbled, sounding a little like she was falling asleep.

“I’m so lost.” Garcia ran her fingers through her hair again.

“Why are you lost Penelope? We’re just around the corner from the bar.” Emily looked at her like Garcia was the crazy one.

“I know that…that’s not what I meant. We need to get you home.”

“Emily I’m tired.” Tara yawned, making a much louder noise than she probably needed to and apparently ignoring Garcia entirely.

“Shall we get you back home?” Emily stroked back her hair from her forehead.

“Is that not what I just said?” Garcia shook her head, incredulous.

Emily and Tara looked up at Garcia and JJ now, wide eyed, as if they had just realised they had company. Tara gave that dopey smile again.

“Hi guys, how long have you been there?” She was running her fingers along Emily’s forearm as she spoke.

“I know you’re drunk but this is just silly now…its like you’ve had a bump on the head. Come on we’re leaving, get up.” JJ grabbed Tara by her arm but Tara grumbled at her, fidgeting away and Emily managed to pull her back down.

“I want to stay with Emily.”

For a minute or two, Emily and Tara looked between Garcia and JJ in confusion. And then, almost as though the thought slapped her around the face, Tara’s eyes widened in realisation.

She turned back to Emily, shaking her a little and then she burst out into fits of laughter.

“Emily, I get it now… I get it!” She sounded so excited that she’d finally figured it out.

The odd looks Garcia and JJ were giving them, the way they looked so confused. It all made sense now.

“What? Get what?” Emily was a little taken aback, but Tara’s laughter was contagious and so she too started to laugh.

“They don’t know.” Tara was holding Emily by her shoulders, staring deep into her eyes.

“They don’t know what?” Emily frowned.

“They don’t know…about us.” Tara was laughing so much, had she been sober it would have hurt.

She found this absolutely hilarious. And then Emily got it too.

JJ and Garcia didn’t know about them, how had they forgotten? They looked back up at JJ and Garcia now, all sweet smiles and glossy eyes. Tara shrugged in an apologetic manner.

“We meant to tell you.” She was still laughing.

“Tell us what?” Garcia was still so confused.

“About us.” Tara leant her head on Emily’s shoulder.

“Us?” JJ raised an eyebrow. “As in the two of you, together…like a couple?”

“Bingo!” Tara grinned as Emily’s arm snaked around his waist.

“Is this for real?” Garcia gasped.

“We meant to tell you, but I guess we forgot.” Emily snickered, biting her lip.

“How could you forget something like…” JJ trailed off, knowing full well she wasn’t going to get any straight answers out of these two tonight and maybe it was best left for the morning. “You know what, never mind…come on, it's really cold and it's late. Let’s get you home.”

This time when she reached to help Tara up, she was only met by a small whimper and Emily let go of her grip on Tara to allow her to be lifted away.

Garcia then helped Emily up off the floor and as soon as they were both up, Tara and Emily fell back into each other’s arms.

“So tonight took an interesting turn. Do you think this…do you think this is for real?” Garcia whispered to JJ although she was sure Tara and Emily were far too enraptured with each other to hear her even if she were shouting.

JJ chuckled, she couldn’t help it. Because watching Emily and Tara up ahead, the way they held each other’s hand so tightly, how they walked so closely their shoulders brushed. How every now and again they would turn to each other and just smile, bright, warm smiles like they were right where they were meant to be.

And it all made perfect sense. Emily and Tara made perfect sense together. Everything slotted into place now and JJ thought it was possibly one of the sweetest things she’d ever seen.

She turned to Garcia as they walked, a smile on her lips.

“It makes sense.” She said simply and Garcia found herself nodding, because really it did. She couldn’t believe she hadn’t seen it coming.

“Perfect sense.”

***

Tara yawned, snuggling her head into the crook of Emily’s neck, that place that always felt as though it was made just for her head.

Emily pulled the duvet up further, ensuring Tara was fully covered and she sighed contently.

“Do you think JJ and Garcia are mad at us?” Tara whispered, still slurring a little. She had her eyes squeezed tightly shut, wishing the world would stop spinning, just for a second.

“Why would they be mad?” Emily was caressing the soft skin at the back of Tara’s neck. She felt Tara’s whole body deflate in her arms.

“Because we didn’t tell them.”

“They know now Tara, everything will be fine I promise.” Emily kissed the top of Tara’s head in the hopes of calming her down.

She didn’t want Tara to worry, JJ and Garcia were their friends, they’d understand why they’d felt the need to keep it to themselves.

Tara took a deep breath and shifted a little so she could look up at Emily.

Tara’s eyes were hooded; still a little glazed from alcohol and framed by her long delicate lashes. And in that moment, Emily didn’t think anyone had ever looked so beautiful.

“How do you know Emily?” her eyes searched Emily’s for answers.

Emily smiled at her girlfriend, suddenly feeling so startlingly sober.

“Because Tara, as long as I have you, as long as I get to hold you in my arms and call you my own, everything will be fine. Everything will be better than fine. Everything will be wonderful.” Emily let her lips brush gently over Tara’s and Tara believed her. She believed every single word, because it was Emily and Emily would never lie to her.

“Emily I think you are just about the most perfect woman I have ever known. I love you Emily.” That was the most coherent Tara had been all night.

Emily’s heart felt like it had been ignited with Tara’s words, with the look Emily was giving her right now.

Emily Prentiss felt like the luckiest woman in the whole entire world.

“I love you too Tara. For now until forever.” She kissed Tara once more before Tara nuzzled back into the crook of her neck, sighing deeply and within moments, both women fell into a blissful, alcohol induced sleep, safe each other’s arms.

—————————————————–

Taglist -

@muffin-cup

@andiebeaword

@mggsprettygirl

[wylanvnneck]

Hi!! I was wondering if you could write the angst prompt number 1 with jurdan??🥰

Angst Prompt #1: “The worst part is you didn’t even notice.”

Fandom: TFOTA

Ship: Jurdan

Masterlist | Prompt List

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

High pitched giggles peal through the air and the noise makes the 21 year old Cardan Greenbriar wince. He’d been away from his hometown of Elfhame for 2 years now, having happily left it and his controlling family behind after graduation to go live in his dorm room back at Insmire University with his crazy roommates. Yet here he was, back again for a week-long visit in honour of his old friend Locke’s engagement.

He and Locke had never been all that close to begin with, but he had been his oldest friend, and it did seem like a good idea to come back for a bit and see how much things had changed in the years since he’d be gone, which didn’t seem to be all that much. 

Locke was still the same fox-faced wastrel that he had been, except that he was now engaged and the other member of their old gang, Valerian was still as snarky as usual, a perpetual sneer on his face whenever someone attempted to speak to him. Seated at a round outdoors table surrounded by his High School acquaintances, Cardan feels nothing but boredom.

He grips the neck of his wine glass even tighter when he sees the source of the giggling emerge from Locke’s house where his engagement party was being hosted. Taryn Duarte the Bride to Be and her posse of friends strut out into the garden from the inside of the house where they’d been gathered together doing goodness knows what for the past half hour. A glimpse of blue hair catches his eye and he recognises it as belonging to a girl named Nicasia that he used to be friends with back in High School, a million years ago.

Taryn’s six inch heels click against the asphalt of the garden path and the sight of her familiar icy brown eyes and dark hair brings up a volley of almost forgotten feelings within him. Not feelings for the rather cold female before him, but for who she reminded him of. Her twin.

Involuntarily he finds himself scanning the group of women for any sign of Taryn’s sister before coming up short and then chastising himself for looking in the first place. Jude belonged in the past where he had buried her. He takes another sip of the red wine in his hand before shifting his attention back to the conversations happening at his table, a politely unimpressed looking Garrett talked in low tones with his friend Van, both of them engrossed in whatever they were discussing, and a slightly inebriated Valerian was attempting to flirt with the disgusted woman seated next to him. 

Resisting the urge to let out a growl he downs the contents of his glass in one go before standing up to re-enter the house and get a refill, needing some kind of distraction.

He’s just finished pouring some more Merlot into his glass from the otherwise empty bar table when a rustling sound travels from somewhere nearby. He glances up at the staircase by the other end of the room, catching sight of a silky white fabric and dark brown hair before whoever it was disappears from view. Stange, he’d thought all of the other guests were outside. Setting his glass down on the table he climbs up the stairs, curiosity getting the better of him. 

Having reached the landing he searches for any sign of where the person might have gone, walking a little further down the hallway on the left before seeing the big French windows leading out to the balcony flung open, the cool night air drifting in.

Cautiously, he approaches, his body going on high alert when he notices who it is that’s standing out on the balcony, hands loosely clutching the metal rails and face turned up towards the starlit sky. Her chestnut hair is tied in an intricate braid hanging down her back and she’s wearing a slim fitting black top and flowy white pants which sway gently around her legs and she looks even more gorgeous than she had in their High School days. He takes a moment to catch his breath before slowly trudging forwards to join her.

She turns when she hears footsteps approaching, a slight frown marring her expression before she recognises him and it clears. Her gaze is as disarming as it used to be.

"Shit, man, don't just sneak up on people like that," a corner of her lip quirks.

He holds up his hands in mock surrender, "Oops, sorry."

“I didn’t know you were coming.” He catches the questioning lilt in her statement.

“It was a last minute kind of thing, I wasn’t sure if I’d be coming either, until yesterday.”

She nods and he positions himself next to her but at a safe distance, one hand coming to rest carelessly on the balcony rail next to hers.

He watches her let out a soft whoosh of breath, looking down at the garden where people were now dancing to the music that had started playing on the expensive speaker set under the bright fairy lights. There’s laughter and cigarette smoke wafting upwards, but from their little spot up above, everything seemed to be much farther away than it really was. 

Eventually, he breaks the silence. “So, Taryn and Locke, huh?”

“Yep.” She replies. The look on her face is one he can’t quite decipher.

He clears his throat and speaks in a tight voice. “Are you...upset by that? I know you and Locke used to be close.” 

He recalls the rumour that used to fly around during their senior year, people whispering about Jude and Locke having a thing. He also remembers the sharp pain that he’d felt when he’d heard that Locke had asked Jude to be his date to their Senior prom and that she’d accepted. Cardan vaguely remembers asking Nicasia to be his date to that very same prom, but the only thing that comes to mind when he thinks about that night is the haze of jealousy that had clouded his mind when he’d seen Locke twirling a grinning Jude around the dance floor.

“Me and Locke? God no. He was just a friend. Although, I think even that was only because he kept showing up and trying to talk to me in Senior Year for no apparent reason.” 

Cardan feels a surprisingly strong sense of relief wash over him at the fact that Jude was never interested in Locke that way, before his eyebrows knit together a moment later. He’d drunkenly confessed his ginormous crush on Jude to Locke at the start of their senior year, and immediately regretted it the next day. It wouldn’t surprise him if Locke had been cozying up to Jude simply to get on his nerves. It definitely seemed like something the manipulative scoundrel would do.

Not that it mattered anymore. Years had passed and he’d probably lost his chance. If he’d ever had the chance in the first place.

“I heard you’ve been off at uni all this time. Insmire, huh?” Her words are light but he’s slightly astonished that she’d been keeping track of where he’d been for the past few years. 

“Yeah, it was the break I needed.”

“What are you studying?”

“My dad wanted me to do Business for when I inherit his company, but I’m also doing a course on Classical and Ancient Languages, purely because I wanted to.”

“That’s great, Cardan.” Her sincerity is clear. “I remember how controlling your dad was. It’s great that you’re finally getting to be your own person.”

He’s sure that his astonishment at her words is blatantly obvious because a barely detectable flush travels up her neck and she averts her gaze. Not only had Jude Duarte been keeping track of where he’d been, she’d also noticed his strained relationship with his father all those years ago. A thrill rises up inside of him.

“Thank you.” He pauses. “So what have you been up to these days?” he asks, like he hasn’t been checking her social media pages at least once every few months, unwittingly grinning whenever he came across one of her rare posts with her and her few friends hanging out together outside of her own University in Nightfell. 

“Oh, same as you actually, getting a taste of independence at Uni. Doing a course on Criminal Justice.”

“That sounds amazing. Tell me all about it.”

And she does, her eyes lighting up as she talks about a subject that she enjoys studying and half of his attention is taken up by what she’s saying and the other half is just focused on her, on the way the moon illuminates one half of her and how the breeze is playing with a few loose strands of her hair and the way her mouth is moving whilst she speaks. They chat for what feels like ages before the conversation eventually flows to a comfortable halt and they hear the clanging of plates and glasses below as the other guests start on dinner, and he knows they’ll have to leave this place of idyll at some point.

He hates that. That they’re on borrowed time and that they were separated by too many years and very separate lives for their situation to be anything different now. And yet, he needs to tell her, to let her know, even if it can’t change anything.

“You know, back in High School I used to daydream about this. You and I, just talking.” He knows that the tips of his ears are probably flaming red, just like the rest of his head, but he forces himself not to look down and to keep meeting her stare. Her eyes widen when she registers what he’d said.

“I-What?” Her shock is apparent.

He breaks eye contact with her, withdrawing his hand from the spot next to hers on the rail, the disappointment coursing through him undeniable. He’d known that she’d never noticed him, but it still hurt to see the bafflement in her reaction.  

“I had a crush on you for ages, pathetic pining and all, and the worst part is you didn’t even notice.”

She flounders, mouth slightly agape, for once not having a response and the smile that curls his lips is one without mirth.

“Well, it’s been nice talking to you Jude,” he grits out, swiftly turning in an attempt to flee with what was left of his dignity.

He’d made it to the top of the staircase before hearing her voice calling after him. 

“Cardan! Cardan wait, goddammit.”

Reluctantly, he stops, bracing himself for the awkwardness of the next few minutes. She’d look at him with pity, explain to him that she wasn’t interested, or maybe that she had someone else. That last thought lances through him like a punch to the gut. During his self-indulgent social media searches he had never seen any posts that indicated that there was someone special in her life, but that didn’t necessarily mean that there wasn’t anyone. After all, Jude Duarte was a special type of woman, the type of woman that you fought for.

Too bad that he’d figured that out too late.

The sound of her boots clacking on the floor gets closer and closer and he turns around just in time for her to throw her arms around his neck and drag his head down to connect their lips, their noses bumping together in the process. Time stops, and his every High School fantasy comes true when he feels her tangle her tongue with his and it’s a little sloppy at first, especially since she had caught him off guard, but they find their rhythm and flames lick through his entire being. Frantically, he grabs a hold of her waist and pushes her until she’s against the wall, her fingers coming up to tangle in his locks as he strokes her sides.

She pulls away to breathe and they’re both panting harshly as if they had run a marathon. 

“I had a crush on you too. I hated it and I tried to fight it because you used to pick on me in middle school.” 

Had he? It was so long ago that he really couldn’t remember, but he also knew that he was precisely the type of person who’d want to hurt the girl that got under his skin.

“Really?” He grins ruefully.

“Yes, really.” She reaches up and playfully smacks the back of his head before carding her fingers through his hair in the same spot to soothe it.

‘Well, my middle school self humbly begs for your forgiveness.” He leans forward and presses their foreheads together, locking his gaze with hers.

“Apology accepted.”

And then they’re kissing once more. He may not have been prepared for a moment like this, but he was sure as hell going to hold on to it and never let go.

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

Some soft boi Cardan for you lovely peeps. I hope you see this and that you enjoy, Anon. Thanks for the ask!

Tagging: @cupcakesandkittens , @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln, @thewickedkings , @kittkatandbooboo , @min-unicorn, @fangirlprincess09, @thefolkofthefic

Let me know if you’d like to be added to or taken off of the tag list🌻

[blessedboo]

F&MU | Angel Reyes.

Angel Reyes x Reader

GIF Credit: To the original creator - (I think @angels-reyes​)

Summary: A situationship w/ Angel based on the lyrics of F&MU by Kehlani. 

Requested: No. 

Warnings: Swearing/Language. TOXIC. Mutual pining. Angsty. Smut (18+ NSFW Content) - on the rougher side, hate-fucking, light choking etc. 

Word Count: 1.7K - Got a lil’ carried away, hehe.

A/N: I want to emphasize that I do not condone nor romanticize this relationship! It was a perspective I wanted to explore, to try something new and get out of my comfort zone a little. This was a BITCH to write, I don’t deal with angst well + it’s my first songfic. Nonetheless, I hope you enjoy reading it! 

We both know it's never really goodbye I swear it's like we do this all the time, yeah That shit be turnin' me on, I cannot lie, lie

“Say the words, and I’ll fucking leave,” Angel spat, his face inches away from yours.

Accompanying his dominating presence, ragged breaths furiously beat down on you. Maybe it was the way his dark eyes bore into yours with such intensity, maybe it was the gruffness of his post-sex voice; whatever it was, it turned you on. 

“Get the fuck out, Angel.”

In other words: stay. But, he didn’t have to know that. 

Angel’s eyes widened whilst his nostrils flared. You knew he wouldn’t like that answer, yet you gave it to him anyway. When Angel didn’t get what he wanted, it made it all the more fun when he did. With you, he took what he needed whenever he needed it, and you willingly gave yourself up for reciprocal pleasure. He wasn’t going to leave, he never could, and neither could you. 

A couple of hours? A few days? Sure. 

But, you always wound up in each other’s arms soon enough. Someone had to fuck the misery out of you, and it was always Angel.

In reality, the sex could only suffice for so long - it just made the emotional toll that much worse. The more you used each other, the greater the storm grew. 

As his jaw tightened, a darkness loomed over him. It was a shadow of pent-up frustration, weariness … and lust. He hated himself for giving into you, chasing you. Angel’s entire being was wholly infatuated. No, addicted. 

The damage was bad, but it hurt so good. 

Angel grunted as he spun you around and shoved you against the wall. His hard chest pushed closely against you from behind. Shaky breaths escaped your lips before you bit down on your bottom one. 

“Fuck,” you whimpered.

Angel buried his face into your neck, his lips sucking and nipping at the sensitive skin. His thick, ringed fingers slowly skimmed from the back of your bare thighs to the curve of your ass. The hem of your shirt rode up under his salacious touch, and stopped just above the lacy, red thong —  his favorite. 

Two fingers slithered through the slit of your clothed center, pushing upwards ever so slightly. As you gasped, you felt him smirk at the feel of your arousal before hooking onto the fabric and pulling them down the length of your legs.

“If you want this back,” Angel’s lips grazed your ear, his hushed, low tone sending shivers along your spine. 

“Come get it, baby.” 

Angel stuffed your panties into the inside of his kutte. The sound of his boots walking away resonated within the cold room, leaving you to your own devices. 

And can't nobody else do that for me Know I make it hard to ignore me Got the attitude, then put it on me Put it on me, yeah

The situationship you had with Angel was one that no former partner could compare to. Angel ignited a wildfire within you, an overwhelming flame that set your body, mind and soul ablaze. 

Playing with fire, you were bound to get burned. 

This back and forth was draining, but the need for each other was insatiable. If you two were going to go down, you were going to do it together. Especially if it meant him “going down” on you.  

You had each other in an unspoken claim, but neither of you were willing to commit. You two treaded the fine line between hot and cold, love and hate. 

Was it the fear of getting too intimate, too attached? Was it the impenetrable walls that had guarded both of your broken hearts? These were the questions you often asked yourself, but never long enough to consider being something real with Angel, something … fulfilling. 

Sex was just a means to an end - the end of being anything more. 

It was the other’s attention that you both craved. This was the fuel to the fire, a root to all of your fights more often than not. Selfishly and heartlessly, he did whatever he could to get yours, and vice versa. 

Whether it was Angel making out with a chick on his lap, or some dude grinding on you as you sat on the bar top, it was always a heated competition. There was no interest in either counterparts, but nothing riled Angel up more than another man’s hands all over what was his, and his only. 

By the end of night, a tipsy Angel was moody and broody, and that’s exactly what you wanted. Angel fucking you was at its best when he took his anger out, where aggression met fervour in a sensual dance of two naked, sweaty bodies. 

Angel’s primal instincts kicked in as he stormed over to you in full stride. His eyes never left yours, even while he yanked the guy away from you. Angel roughly grabbed onto your knees before spreading them apart and stepping in between. He had a possessive grip on your chin, tilting it upwards in an uncomfortable angle. 

“Traviesa,” he spoke through gritted teeth. “Mouth. Open.”

Angel’s thumb dragged across your bottom lip, and you did as you were told. He held your face in both hands as he sloppily tongued you down. He groaned while sucking on your tongue, pulling it in between his teeth until he finally let go. 

“If I ever catch you doing that shit again, I’ll be fucking her instead,” Angel pointed to the inebriated blonde he had left behind. “Got it?”

You nodded hastily, your lips slightly quivering at Angel’s behavior. Angel caught a glimpse of your actions, being one to notice everything about you. He sighed as his overpowering demeanor faded into an expression of hurt, a certain sadness hidden behind those brown eyes. 

Angel cupped your cheek before placing a soft, chaste kiss on your forehead. You leaned into the warmth of his palm, which was quickly replaced with a feeling of nothingness. 

“EZ will take you home tonight,” he said coldly. 

As your eyes shot open, you saw Angel had made his way back to her. 

"I hate you", turns into "I love you", in the bedroom We fuck and make up like it's Maybelline We do petty things Then mess up the sheets, yeah   Can't lie, the sex fire when you in your feels (woo) Spice it up a little (ooh) Yeah, you know the drill (know the drill)

You were straddled on top of Angel, buttons flying off of his flannel as you tore it off. Angel chuckled darkly as he thrusted his hard, clothed dick onto your panty-covered pussy. You moaned out his name, your nails dragging across his bare chest. Angel palmed your ass and groaned as he rolled his hips against yours, impatiently grinding into you from below. 

“Still hate me, mami?” 

Angel’s fingers roughly shifted your panties to the side, plunging two of them deep inside your cunt. His hand rubbed tight circles on your throbbing clit as he watched his rings dive deeper into your wet pussy. 

“Ah, yes!” You cried out as you finger-fucked yourself onto him. 

“Mm-hm. Then fuck me like you mean that shit,” Angel rasped against your lips, catching your moans in his mouth in a long, steamy kiss. His hand wrapped around your throat, squeezing gently as he pulled you closer. 

“I want you to ride me. Take that cock. Your cock, mami.”

You made quick work of freeing his thick, curved length, gasping as you finally slid onto him. Angel dangerously whispered a litany of filthy thoughts into your ear, thrusting himself as his cock helplessly twitched inside you. 

You whimpered, his thickness filling you to the brim over and over again. He drove his dick into you mercilessly, panting wildly with every brutal snap of his hips.

“Fuck. Fuuuck. My fucking pussy. I own it,” he growled. “Tell me it’s mine!”

Angel’s heavy hands groped the swells of your breasts, feverishly massaging and pinching your nipples with crazed purpose. Bringing one into his mouth, his tongue swirled seamlessly around it, providing a sensation of pain and pleasure as he tugged it in between his teeth. 

You shrieked in response. “It’s y-yours. All yours, baby. Ahh!”

Your pace quickened as you bounced up and down whilst fucking yourself onto him. Your walls clenched around him, squeezing him of his ability to hold on any longer. Angel hissed as he slapped your ass, lewdly spreading your ample cheeks apart, grunting as he saw his fat cock sinking into you, swallowing him whole. 

“What is? What’s mine? Oh shit, oh fuck.”

Slap!

“It’s this tight little pussy, right? Dripping onto me. Creaming my fucking cock. That’s what’s mine.”

Your sobs and whines made Angel throw his head back as he indulged in his euphoria, animalistically slamming himself into your needy cunt whilst chasing his release.  

“You’re gonna make me come, mi dulce. Make me come, that’s it. Just like that, fuck!” 

—

It had been a couple of minutes since you had collapsed into each other’s arms. Both of your backs rested against the headboard, the blanket loosely wrapped around your torsos. 

Angel sleepily took a drag off of his cigarette, a billow of smoke exhaled through his nose. He ran a frustrated hand over his face as he sighed deeply. 

“Who did you go out with tonight?” 

“Why does it matter, Angel?”

“It fucking does. I want an answer.”

“Fuck off.”

“Fuck you,” Angel agitatedly shifted onto his side, putting out the cigarette before switching the lamp off. 

This was nothing out of the ordinary. Simply how most days started, and most nights ended.

I make you mad, mad, mad Why I gotta fuck you up to make you fuck like that? Pickin' fights so you can put it down like that

With every kiss, poison lingered on your tongues as they clashed together. The mutual agony fed off of one another in meaningless throes of passion, your intricately woven bodies latching onto the delicious hurt of it all. 

As a consequence of trust issues and insecurities, neither of you felt worthy of the other, nor deserved a chance at true love. Not after treating each other the way you had been; it was too late - Angel was in too deep, and so were you. 

Because to you, having a warm body was better than having nobody. 

It destroyed him to be around you, but it killed him to be away. It was a vicious cycle, an unforgiving cyclone of toxicity. 

However, all is fair in love and war. And what a war it was.

____________________________________________

MAYANS TAG LIST:

@ifoundmyhappythought @woahitslucyylu @starrynite7114​@claytoncardenasbabymama @multiyfandomgirl40 @justlikebreathing @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @chibsytelford @fvckthisbxtchup  @angelreyesgirl  @sheeshgivemeabreak @awildcur @gemini0410 @lady-pswrld @hennessyauntie @thesandbeneathmytoes @abbiesthings @lilac-tea-time @itsamedeemoney @peaches007​ @rebel-without-cause-x​ @mrs-losa​

[Just ask if you’d like to be tagged!]

[commander-diomika]

Pairing: Azu/Cel Sidebottom

Word Count: 1900

Rating: Mature (for drug references and mild sexual content)

Additional Tags: Drugs, Sort Of, Kissing, drugged kissing, Kinktober, thembofication, Fluff,

Prompt: Bimbofication / Collaring / Cockwarming

Summary: “I don’t know…” Azu said slowly. She wasn’t even sure where Cel had gotten the Rod of Bestow Curse, and their plan to gradually zap their intelligence down sounded… dubious. But then again, Azu wasn’t exactly a science-minded sort.

“Even I’m not silly enough to try this solo, Azu, and don’t you think it would be fun to do together!” Cel brandished the wand with an alarming enthusiasm. “I was just thinking about it, because when I take these off-” Cel tapped their goggles with a crystalline ding, “-for a little while after I feel, inebriated but not quite, until I adjust again, so I’m just curious about what happens if instead of calibrating out of the feeling, I persist with it!”

“Please, Azu. For science.”

It was just like the time with the Mega-joos, Cel explained to Azu. They just wanted to try something out.

“I don’t know…” Azu said slowly. She wasn’t even sure where Cel had gotten the Rod of Bestow Curse, and their plan to zap their intelligence down gradually sounded… dubious. But then again, Azu wasn’t exactly a science-minded sort.

“Even I’m not silly enough to try this solo, Azu, and don’t you think it would be fun to do together!” Cel brandished the wand with an alarming enthusiasm. “I was just thinking about it, because when I take these off-” Cel tapped their goggles with a crystalline ding, “-for a little while after I feel, inebriated but not quite, until I adjust again, so I’m just curious about what happens if instead of calibrating out of the feeling, I persist with it!”

Azu crossed her arms across her unarmoured chest. She did suppose that Cel had a point. The idea had a similar air to when Azu wanted to take a mysterious potion just to see what it did. She didn’t really feel like she could argue against Cel’s logic. (A very familiar feeling.)

“And if it all gets too much, I know, you can just restore me! I won’t be in any danger, and you can keep an eye on me, just like how I observed you last time! And nothing bad happened then except for a bit of broken furniture, and I’m not even big enough to break anything. Unless I somehow beast morph whilst- no, I’ll leave all my gear outside of the room and perhaps it would be good if your first responsibility is just to keep me in the one place so I don’t do anything rash with my potions.”

That sounded… remarkably sensible. But still, doubt niggled in Azu’s chest. “What if you stay that way? Something might go wrong with the restoration.”

“I have every faith in your healing! Besides, I’ve examined the wand carefully, it will definitely do what I want and nothing more, and it’s a basic enough spell to fix this kind of thing! Zolf does it all the time!”

“Why don’t you ask Zolf then?” Grasping, she knew.

Cel pressed their lips together, suddenly looking sheepish. “I don’t- You know that I like Zolf very much, Azu, but he’s not as much- well, to be honest, I just thought it might be something fun for us to do together.” When Cel dropped their chin and a puppy-dog pleading entered their eyes, Azu knew that the battle was lost.

She sighed. “Very well. Allow me to prepare the necessary spells.” Glee spread on Cel’s face, and Azu felt her chest warm with the rewarding light she always felt when helping. “Do not start without me.”

…

Cel took their goggles off and gently placed them on a side table. They closed their eyes and sighed, swaying a little.

“See, this kind of thing feels like we should have some drinks, too, but that would be adding another variable.”

“It’s probably best if I don’t get drunk.” Azu agreed. Cel’s room at the inn was comfortable if not lavishly appointed, a friendly fire in the grate, a bed and several armchairs just big enough for Azu to feel comfortable in.

“Right! Here we go! My research says this curse will affect my mental faculties based on a percentage of the original capacity, that is, not in an exponential but rather linear fashion from the original-”

Azu simply settled into a chair to watch as Cel pontificated. In the several days of downtime the group had been afforded at the inn, Cel had grown a shadow of stubble for a change. It was quite endearing.

“- but I am curious as to whether the-” Cel stopped suddenly, squeezed the wand in one hand, steeling themselves.

“The time for curiosity is done! It is time for answers!” they announced dramatically, then cast the wand in a sweeping motion over their tall frame. A sickly energy throbbed in the room for a breath, then nothing. Cel simply blinked owlishly.

“How… how does it feel?” Azu asked slowly.

“Not sure yet!” Cel said delightedly. “Give me a minute!” They stalked around the room in an energetic lap, once, twice. “I don’t feel any different. I’m going to do it again.”

Before Azu could advise against it, there was another eerie pulse. Standing in front of the fire, Cel’s eyes fluttered shut as they swayed. Azu felt the muscles in her legs coil, ready to spring into action in case Cel toppled, but they quickly steadied and snapped their eyes open.

“Should I take notes? Nothing in my research said that my memory will be affected by this experience but there is every chance that the sensations I feel can only be captured in the moment?” Cel went over to their desk and pulled up a sheaf of paper and started scribbling, muttering to themselves, seemingly having forgotten Azu was even there.

This continued for the next half an hour, cursing themselves twice more. On the third grasp and wave of the wand, they laid their head on their desk and gave a groan.

“Ooft. Dizzy.”

Concerned, Azu came over. She looked over Cel’s notes. The writings were becoming increasingly garbled; not any less legible but written in a confusing mix of languages, and the diagrams were becoming more… well Azu wasn’t sure how to describe it, but there was something abstractly expressive in them.

“Are you alright?” Azu asked.

Cel lifted their head off the desk, a smear of ink on one stubbly cheek. “Yes! I’m just goingsdahfdg-” They raised their eyebrows. “I’m fiweuhadermersh.” They clapped a hand to their mouth, rubbing a little more ink onto their face and jumped to their feet, remarkably spry.

“Do you need healing?” Azu asked, concerned. She wasn’t even sure how they were doing that with their mouth.

Cel walked around the room again, shaking their head. Azu watched them, and slowly settled into Cel’s desk chair. Cel didn’t seem worried or distressed, in fact as they turned and stalked back over, there was something determined in their eyes.

“I’m ok! I just- I think I just had to learn how to speak again.”

Azu frowned as Cel slowly lowered to their knees and laid their head in Azu’s robe-clad lap. “Bit swimmy,” was all they managed, and Azu instinctively petted their hair.

“The experience is not dissim- dissim- that different from some of the psy-psy-psychoa- trippy, you know, the little ground fellows that make you see things that aren’t real.” Cel mumbled into Azu’s lap. Azu continued to stroke Cel’s hair, feeling alarmed and trying not to show it. Azu knew that when people were under the influence of the little ground fellows, you should try your best to be a calming presence.

“It’s kind of nice. I often feel like I have two or three voices, layered inside, you know the talk inside your brain?”

“Internal monologue?” Azu ventured.

“Yes! The inside voices, all talking over each other, saying pros and cons simul- all at once and now it just feels…” They gestured with one hand then brought it up to rest on Azu’s thigh. “Quiet. I think if this happened, some other time, somewhere else…. I would feel afraid. I’m not afraid. I’m safe. And it’s ok to just feel… quiet for a little while. With you.” They nuzzled their nose into Azu’s thigh, their gaze unfocused as though they looked through Azu to something distant.

Azu watched Cel’s face carefully; cheek still smushed into Azu’s lap, their eyes darted up, their pupils blown wide and dark. “Kiss me?”

Azu blinked, petting hands stilling. “No, Cel.” She spoke gently, as one would to a demanding child. “It wouldn’t be right. You’re not in your right mind.”

“No, no no,” Cel went to shake their head but was really just nuzzling more firmly. “It’s still me! Cel! I’m not any less Cel! I’m fully Cel! I’m just, I don’t have the layers of inside-thinky-brain-talk that always talk me out of saying something like ‘I think we should kiss and I think that would be fun and nice!’ I’m pretty much always thinking that kissing would be fun and nice but there are so many reasons why I don’t usu- don’t say it!”

Azu was flummoxed. Cel’s only rule had been “don’t let me mess with my potions.” Cel hadn’t set up a single rule about what happened if the increasingly uninhibited half-elf hit on them.

That felt like a huge oversight on both their parts, really.

But Cel was looking up so earnestly, tall hair mussed from rubbing on her leg, and Azu was inclined to agree that kissing was indeed fun and nice, and very rarely far from her mind, too. Cel was making an awful lot of sense, as they usually did, even in this state.

“Ok.” Azu said softly. “Just one kiss, for us, if you promise you won’t regret it later.”

Cel came to stand. Whatever was happening in their mind, their body was still perfectly coordinated as they loomed over Azu and took her face in their slender hands.

“Azu.”

It’s very nice to be loomed over by them, Azu thought, looking up at Cel’s inky face.

“Kissing is nice. I don’t ever think I should have not-kissed someone.” Cel said, and for all their clunky phrasing, their voice was steady, gaze intent.

Azu tilted up her chin in invitation, and Cel dipped their mouth to Azu’s. The kiss was warm, and easy, Cel’s lips parting, letting their tongue trail and explore Azu’s lips, her tusks. Azu barely opened her mouth and felt Cel’s tongue slip inside, curious and soft. She met it with her own, careful not to push or overwhelm Cel’s narrow mouth, feeling the soft stubble on Cel’s upper lip against her own.

When Cel sighed in pleasure, Azu gently leant back.

“I think that’s enough, Cel.” Azu’s heart was beating fast in her chest. She wanted to surge upwards, plunge her tongue into Cel’s soft mouth, squeeze them and unwrap them and run her hands over every inch of them. But not like this.

Cel pouted, then screwed up their face in a slightly pained expression. “That was very wonde- beauti- nice. Wonderbeautynice.”

“Would you like a hug?” Azu offered. That, Azu felt she could offer without the heat in her veins overwhelming her. She stood, spreading her arms, and Cel wordlessly melted into them.

“I think I’d like my words back now, Azu. My inner words too. It was wonderbeautynice without them with you, though.”

Holding Cel her in arms, Azu let her heart open to Aphrodite’s light and lifted the curses on Cel. They sighed, squeezing their arms even tighter around Azu’s broad frame.

“That was such a kiss, Azu!” Cel leant back from the hug, not taking their arms from around Azu’s shoulder’s. Azu was relieved to see the sparkle in their eyes returned. “But you know, I don’t think I have quite enough data to say what kind of kiss it was, and I was wondering, if you would indulge me just a little further tonight, could we do it again?”

“For science, I take it?” Azu asked through her smile. With the light of Aphrodite and Cel’s bright gaze on her, Azu felt warm from crown to navel, fiery heat below that. She lifted her hand and rubbed tenderly at the smutch of ink on Cel's cheek.

“For science, absolutely.”

[sword-of-the-writer]

Oh Lumi I love "You take the bed, you need it more than me" 🥺 Can I request that one with felix pls? Im so sorry if you get too many felix requests, but you write him so well!!

This is 1.4k words I don’t even know how I did that but like 😳 (thats why it took me ages because adhd brain inhibits me from just knocking it out in one sitting)

I hope y’all like it 🥺

—

Silent Travels || Felix Fraldarius

The clouds grew dark and weighed heavy above, tentative drops threatening to fall more with each passing moment.

Felix Fraldarius was called for by his father to return home for undisclosed reasons. In an even more surprising move, the young lord had asked you to accompany him when the professor insisted he not go alone.

Why had he asked you and not, say, Sylvain? No one could say, really. Well, perhaps some could, but they didn’t, which perplexed you even more when you had asked.

But now it had been well into your travels, threats of rain looming overhead, and an unbearable silence had fallen between you. It was a 2 day trip on the fastest route, so you silently hoped that it wouldn’t be this painfully quiet the whole time.

“Felix? Why’d you ask me to come?” You finally pipe up “why not... like... Sylvain?”

The man sighed, though he didn't look in your direction. “Really? He’s more of a nuisance than anything. Especially since he’d just flirt with my house maids again.”

That’s a fair point. You probably should have considered that.

“I didn’t ask you because you were an obvious choice, you’re just far less annoying than anyone else.”

The icy tone of his voice warned you not to dig further. You knew he wasn’t interested in small talk right now.

“So, where will we be—“

“There’ll be an inn on this road eventually.” He interrupted.

“Okay.”

Another long hour of quiet befell the two of you before arriving at the aforementioned inn. It hadn’t become significantly darker considering the gray clouds overhead, but it still had grown much colder.

In truth, Felix had been averse to banter not because he found you annoying, but because he was annoyed he fell victim to the professor’s meddling. They hadn’t just told Felix not to go alone, but specifically told him to bring you.

The thing was, he didn’t want to outright tell you this... it would raise more questions than answers. The ravenette treated you with significantly less poison in his words and with significantly more gentle gestures. Significant for him wasn’t much, really, but the ones who knew him well caught on fast. Dimitri, Sylvain, and Ingrid knew it, and now supposedly the professor too.

You waited outside with your two horses as Felix went inside to pay for a room. The rain that threatened to fall all day was beginning to leak from the clouds in heavy drops. Good timing.

Felix emerged with a huff and brows furrowed together angrily.

“My father neglected to send along travel expenses, and the professor didn’t give me much either. It seems we can only afford one room if we want to eat in the morning.”

“Oh.. hm.” You reply, though not fully processing the logistics of the situation “what about the horses?”

“Did you not see the stable?” He all but snapped at you.

“I meant the cost, Felix.”

“Oh, er, boarding them is free. It’s feeding them that’ll cost us. Luckily that’s something the professor thought of.”

“So she packed food for the horses but none for us? Funny that.” You snicker, effectively lightening the mood.

“Funny.” Felix parroted. “Now let me take the horses to a stall before the rain starts falling steadily.”

“I can do it.” You insist, but Felix quickly takes the reins from you and doesn’t acknowledge your statement.

Without another word, the ravenette walked away with the two horses. He didn’t give you the room key in return, but you hadn’t noticed until you stepped inside.

The inn seemed lively, despite the gloomy weather. Drinks were passed to and fro and many were engaged in lively conversations. A complete 180 to the past few hours of travel you experienced.

You took a seat at an empty table whilst waiting for your travel companion. It wasn’t in the center, but it wasn’t exactly too far from all the action either. The time spent idle you couldn’t help but think that Felix was likely having a hard time untacking the less cooperative of the two horses. That was precisely the reason you offered to do it, but you weren’t going to mention it now.

Suddenly, and less than gracefully, a clearly inebriated man had sauntered his way up to your table.

“Ohhh! What’s a pretty little thing like you doing all alone here, hmm?” He slurred, slamming his tankard of beer down on the table as he took a seat

“Um, well I’m just waiting for—“

“Waiting? Oh, no no no!” He shook his head “No one should keep such a woman waiting!”

“Well I... he’s just—“

“Fuck off old man.” Felix had reemerged, ice in his tone and fire in his eyes.

“Ohhh, so your man makes an appearance!” The man taunted, seeming less and less sober as he chose to insult Felix.

“He’s not my—“

“And what about it? What were your intentions if I hadn’t shown up? Can’t you see how uncomfortable she is?” He spat, not letting the man get in a single word.

“Well, I was just—“

“Just nothing. Fuck off!”

You had stood at that moment, concern riddled across your features and a hand placed on Felix’s shoulder to keep him from lunging at the man. Tugging a bit at his shirt, you managed to pull him away from the fight waiting to happen.

“Let’s just go to our room and get some rest, okay?” You suggested, leading away the still furious boy away from the crowd of people.

The two of you moved in unison over creaking floorboards down the hall to find the room which the number on the door matched the engraving on the key Felix had received.

It was a small room, modestly decorated and, in your opinion, quite cold. It wasn’t necessarily what you had in mind, but it didn’t disappoint considering it was their only lodging option.

After a long moment, Felix broke the silence. “You take the bed, you need it more than me.”

Right... that was a prominant feature of the room: one bed.

Unthinking, you blurted out “Couldn’t you have gotten a room with two beds?”

Silence met your words as Felix thought this over. He hadn’t outright mentioned he was not a lone traveler, but he assumed the inn clerk had seen you outside. Clearly they had just assumed the two of you were a couple. And that man from before had too...

Felix attempted to clear his throat in a nonchalant manner, but it seemed to backfire as he almost choked. If you looked clearly, you could see the pink that dusted his cheeks.

“What’s done is done,” He tried to shrug it off. “I wasn’t thinking. Just take the bed.”

“Do you plan to sleep on the bare floor?”

Your tone was lighthearted, poking fun at his mistake. Had anyone else made such comments Felix surely would have snapped at them. Instead, he just shook his head.

“Seriously, at least take some pillows and blankets. Or we can go ask the inn worker.” You insisted.

“I’ll be fine.”

“Stop being so stubborn! I don’t want you to get bad sleep and be even crankier than usual.”

“The hell do you mean by ‘even crankier’?!”

You gestured vaguely as if to imply “you’re literally being cranky right now”. He turned away from you and crossed his arms, clearly understanding your meaning but ignoring it nonetheless.

“It’s not a small bed. We could probably both fit.” You finally say, breaking the long held silence

“I’m going to act like you didn’t just say that.” He replied dryly.

The realization that you spoke your thoughts aloud hit you like a ton of bricks. You hadn’t thought much of the implications at first, but now your face had become noticeably red.

“Whatever. I’ll be back.” Felix exited the room, presumably taking your suggestion.

Flustered, you allowed yourself to flop down onto the bed. You moved your hands to your face and felt the warmth of your cheeks.

Felix returned not long after with news of the two of you switching to a more accommodating room. He didn’t mention the disappointed look on the inn clerk’s face when he had explained the situation to them...

The rest of your travels were met with the same degree of silence as before, though now it was a much more awkward silence. Rodrigue later brought this up, but Felix denied any implication that the older man threw at him.

[twiceblackvelvet]

One Night Stand

A/N; someone requested this but for some reason i can’t find the ask in my drafts among all of the other requests but hopefully they find it anyway. enjoy me writing way more than i expected and ending things on an open note in case people become interested and i get to write a second part.

Nights like these very rarely happen. In fact, they never do. Usually, you’d be sat at home with a glass of wine, binge-watching yet another drama, and stuffing your face with whichever snacks you could find in the cupboards. An unhealthy combination, sure. But it’s what comforts you the most after spending way too long dealing with people during the day. 

But tonight, your friends have practically dragged you out of the pit you’ve created in the middle of your sofa that you tried endlessly to convince them had not in fact molded to the shape of your body, it just looks like that naturally. Apparently, a new bar opening offering free entry is enough reason for you to break your usual habits and let your hair down instead.

It’s been so long since the last time you went out to a nightclub that you’d forgotten how much work goes into just getting there and looking somewhat acceptable. Spending hours on end searching through your closet for a dress that you had been told must cling to your skin and not look like something a librarian would wear. 

Maybe, it’s just time to get some new friends who won’t rip your everyday style to shreds for a quick laugh. 

You’re not even sure why you agreed, really. The thought of drunken slobs throwing themselves all over anyone within proximity in the hopes of getting lucky at the end of the night is not something you’ve ever found appealing, thus, you’re yet to gain your one-night stand card. Not that such a thing exists, but according to numerous sources, or rather just all of your friends it’s an important step in the life of an adult. You’d rather keep both feet firmly outside of that circle and never dip your toes into the daunting pool of regret and possible after-effects of bedding a complete stranger. 

Despite the lingering feeling deep down that this night would not end well, after a few pre-drinks to get you in the mood, excitement soon washes away any worries. Even the one’s telling you that you’d likely spend half the night pulling your friends away from anyone they find attractive only because they’re wearing beer goggles.

Stepping out of the cab and into the cold night air makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up and brings about your first regret. The short black dress you decided upon makes it impossible for your body to find any warmth as you walk toward the queue hovering outside waiting to get inside. It’s shorter than you expected, which you’re all grateful for but there’s still a good amount of people there.

After a few minutes of pacing on the spot, your teeth have begun to chatter and the alcohol that had previously warmed you up has started to lose its effect. 

“How long until we’re in?” You decide to ask, aimed at no one in particular, just hoping for a positive answer from anyone that the cold suffering will end soon.

“It’ll be about ten more minutes babe, don’t worry.” One of your friends shouts from behind you. The loud music from inside blaring out into the street makes it impossible for you to know which, you’re just grateful it’s not going to be too long before you can get inside and feel warmth once again. 

Bodies begin to shuffle closer towards the door and soon two burly men dressed head to toe in black come into sight, the words security plastered across one side of their chest. One of them, more muscular than the other and with a far more intimidating face places his meaty hand upright in front of you to pause the steady flow of patrons being allowed inside. 

“Do you have any identification?” The smaller of the two men who now that you’re closer is in fact still huge in comparison to you croaks out, his voice not matching his appearance. You notice he has a cut above his eye, likely from someone drunkenly thinking it’s a good idea to fight the hulk’s cousin after one too many. 

Your hands roam around inside the small clutch bag you’d decided upon pairing with your outfit and pull out your driver's license and point it towards both of them. They eye it suspiciously, but you can see the cogs in their heads quickly trying to decipher whether your year of birth makes you legal to enter or not.

“Great, thanks. Go right ahead.” The larger man speaks and ushers you toward the door. 

Before stepping inside, you turn in place to face your friends who are also being inspected head to toe. A strong breeze gusts past all of you and without thinking too much about upsetting them, you walk in alone and leave your friends to the freezing weather. You quickly holler that you’ll meet them inside, but it’s unlikely that they heard it. 

Walking through an extra set of doors, you’re greeted by a dark interior with painted black walls,  a bar placed dead in the center of the room with low lighting hung above it. Red seats line the counter and one half of the room and your feet move without you thinking about it towards one of them. The other half is an open dance floor full of people moving along to the music, some less on the beat than others but they’re trying. 

A small woman, no taller than 5’2 with brown short hair appears out of nowhere in front of you, a sharp smile placed on her face which you easily recognize as the fake customer service greeting she’s likely learned from years of experience handling people in an intoxicated state.

“Hey! What can I get you?” Her voice is soft, too soft to be working in this kind of environment.

You decide to look further down the bar at some of the other people seated next to you and spot a woman holding a glass filled with a light blue liquid. Truthfully, it looks like something you’d clean your kitchen floor with, but it’s calling out to you for some reason. 

“I’ll have whatever that is.” You point toward the girl and the bartender gives a quick nod before heading off to pour the potentially poisonous concoction you’ve just ordered on a whim. 

As you watch a couple of people throw down some moves that would be acceptable if they were from a five-year-old child, not a grown adult, small hands wrap around your waist that startles you for a second until you come face to face with your friends who’ve finally made it past the two roadblocks patrolling the doors.

“Here you are, this place is nice, right? Have you gotten a drink yet?” 

“Yeah, I just ord-” 

Before you can finish your sentence, the bartender returns and places the drink down in front of you. 

“The first one is on the house, have a good night!” Her words are far more excited than previously, probably more than they should be for someone offering out drinks for free during opening night. Part of you wonders if this is her way of flirting or maybe just hoping for some extra tips.

“Thanks for the offer, really but I’ll pay, I’m not looking to date anyone right now and you’re not my type, sorry.” 

Her eyes widen the more you speak and you realize that perhaps you’re the one who is in fact sat in the very wrong tree and barking like an idiot.

“I’m one of the owners here, the flyer outside says the first drink is free for everyone. Sorry to disappoint you, sweetheart, but I don’t swing your way.” 

She’s already turned around on the heel of her foot before you can force out an apology. However, her swift exit doesn’t stop your cheeks from heating up and a mild headache from forming out of embarrassment. Your friends’ laughter all around you isn’t helping the situation either. 

“Next time, maybe save that for someone who bats for your own team.” A husky voice from beside where you’re seated speaks lowly into your ear. 

As you swing your chair quickly to face where the words came from, all you find is flowing brown hair trailing off toward the dance floor. You watch the body strut away, and by watching, you definitely saw something far more appealing than a kind yet uninterested bar owner. Her hips sway casually as she floats in between several bodies moving to the music and enters the bathroom without waiting in the line formed outside of the door. 

A few angry customers shout after the girl, but she doesn’t bother to listen to their calls informing her of the queue. Whoever she is, her attitude is one of not caring about anything other than herself. Usually, this would be a major red flag under any other circumstances, but something is drawing you towards her even though you have no idea who she is or what she looks like other than her back profile. 

Your friends order their drinks one after the other, all of which is a cocktail of sorts that will definitely cause the world’s worst hangover for each of them individually, however, that’s their problem. The lights near the dance floor quickly change colors to strobe blindingly through the crowd that’s formed, drinks have been spilled already causing some already inebriated bodies to crash land on the ground only to rise up once more to sway from one side to another. 

You can’t help yourself from watching the bathroom door every few moments, hoping to catch a glimpse of the mystery woman and confirm whether she’s everything you’ve managed to imagine in the few moments since she decided to teasingly whisper into your ear. But, the line outside quickly moves and disappears meaning she has already left and you’ve missed it. 

Before you know it, several hours have passed, numerous drinks have infiltrated your liver and your sight has become less and less able to make out whether the person in front of you is that close or if they’re actually halfway across the room. Your body has been dragged to the center of the dancefloor and whilst you are trying to keep up with the rhythm of the music, your loose limbs have a mind of their own and sure enough, you too end up looking like an inflatable tube blowing in the wind in any direction you decide to throw it. 

At least two of your friends have decided that ramming their tongues down someone’s throat is a far better way to spend their time. You’re strangely quite envious of them.

Just as you’re about to stagger off back to the bar to relieve your throat of the dryness that has formed and maybe rid yourself of some of the sweat you’re unsure of which belongs to you or someone else, a hand slides it’s way around your waist and pulls you backward. Your body now pressed against another in a tight embrace that had you been sober you’d struggle to get out of, however, in this state, it’s even more difficult to break free.

“Why didn’t you follow me?” 

When the words hit your ears, you recognize the voice from earlier and a cold shudder settles itself throughout your spine. The mystery woman has somehow managed to find you amongst the full capacity crowd whilst you couldn’t even keep up with her in the midst of a small bathroom queue. The teasing tone still there but her husky voice now replaced with a more hoarse yet sultry one.

Without even thinking about it, you force your body further into her own and spin around all at the same time. Turns out, that was a mistake as it sends both of you flying toward the ground at a pace that makes it impossible for either of you to break your fall. You may not have gotten to see her face previously but in your current position of laying on top of her, you’re now offered a close up to what your drunken mind can only describe as perfection. 

Her wide eyes bore into your own, they’re a dark shade of brown and intensely eye you the same way in which you’re doing to her before quickly flitting toward your lips for a split second. Your own eyes can’t help but do the exact same to her in return. Pink plump lips that are daring you to take them in with your own, but you manage to resist, or rather, she pushes you upward and stands before helping you off the ground too. 

She’s taller than you first thought. A loosely fitted blazer covers a black crop top that lies just above an abdomen that threatens to bring tears to your eyes from how toned it is. Dark pants tightly hug her long legs that you’re sure would look better without the material hiding them. You’re having difficulty removing your eyes from her magnetic form when she cups your chin and raises it so she can meet your eyes once more.

“You didn’t answer me.” She says sternly this time. 

“I didn’t know you wanted me to follow you.” No thought goes into your response, you’re simply on auto-pilot mode and hoping she doesn’t vanish once more. 

“Well, I did. But, your loss.” 

She begins to stride away, once again. However, your arm flies out and grasps hold of her wrist before she can escape. Despite having way too much to drink, your strength still exists for a split second as her body ends up bumping into your own, hips clashing with one another.

“What are you doing?” She asks.

“Who are you?” 

The airy way in which the question leaves your mouth makes it sound like you’re asking something far more prophetic, or as if you’re expecting her to give you her life story in the middle of a packed nightclub. Truthfully, you’re just after a name. 

“Come with me.” Her words should be a question, instead, they sound like a command and you’re helpless to it as you trail behind her without worrying about the consequences or thinking about what it is you’re going through with. Placing in your trust in someone like this is not something you’d ever dare to do previously, but this feels right, somehow.

The two of you step outside of the club, her strides are way too quick for you to keep up with as she wanders down the street away from the loud music and your friends who you’re quickly trying to type out a text message to tell them not to send out a search party for you, though, you still don’t even know this girl’s name so perhaps that isn’t the smartest idea. You send it anyway and hope your blind faith in this godly woman who keeps checking you’re still behind her every few seconds is correct.

Her arm raises at the end of the street and a car pulls up. Everything about this feels wrong, yet, you get inside the vehicle with her anyway. 

“Sooyoung.” She bluntly states. The confusion your face makes it obvious that you have no idea why she’s saying this suddenly. “My name… is Sooyoung.” 

It could just be the alcohol talking, but you’re sure that it is the prettiest name to exist. 

“Do you have one? Or am I supposed to guess?” She follows up after watching you mouth her own, something you hadn’t even realized you’d been doing. You quickly slur out your name that makes it only barely comprehensible and Sooyoung just chuckles in response.

You can’t help but let out a small laugh yourself when you consider your thoughts earlier in the night about your entire crisis of still clutching tightly onto your one-night-stand card and how this complete stranger in front of you is about to snatch it away, no doubt.

“What’s so funny?” The teasing tone is back in place as one of Sooyoung’s hands rests carefully atop your thigh. Her hand is cold yet despite only just finding out her name, you feel safe with her placing it there. It feels like she’s trying to steady you with it.

“Nothing, I’ve just never done this before.” 

“You’ve never used Uber?” She cocks one of her eyebrows as she looks at you with an amused smirk. 

“Very funny.” 

Her face straightens out and turns serious for the first time since you’ve been graced with looking at it. You can tell she’s thinking about something but unsure of whether or not to speak it into existence. The ability to read people so far hasn’t disappeared no matter how much tequila you’ve consumed. 

“I guess you meant it when you said that Haseul wasn’t your type.” She quietly lets out after a few moments. She spots the confusion once more and continues. “The bartender, her name is Haseul. You told her she wasn’t your type.”

“Oh, no. She definitely is my type. I just… wait, what exactly do you think I meant by saying I’ve never done this before?”

Now it’s Sooyoung’s turn to feel lost by the conversation as she tries to decipher where things have gotten lost in translation between you both.

“Well, girls. You didn’t pick up on me wanting you to follow me and now you’re telling me on my way back to my place you’ve never done this before. I’m assuming that your usual type is the two meatheads working the door stopping people from smashing the bar up.” 

Loud laughter fills the small space of the car. The driver even looks into his rearview mirror to see what is so funny that you’re doubled over in pain from Sooyoung’s assumption. 

“Oh that’s good. You know, trying to take a straight girl’s home is a massive stereotype.” You’re not sure if the look you’re receiving from Sooyoung is of her being offended or still lost. “I didn’t mean I’ve never slept with a girl before. I meant I’ve never gone home with someone that I just met hours before.”

Everything suddenly clicks into place for both of you and Sooyoung bites her lower lip, likely feeling that same embarrassment that you did earlier with the woman you now know is named Haseul.

“I didn’t think you were straight, by the way. That’s not why you’re here with me. I just assumed from what you said.” 

The two of you continue to laugh at just how crossed you’ve managed to get the wires in the few minutes you’ve been traveling towards her home which was longer than you thought as soon enough, the driver is pulling up and asking you both to leave a good review. Sooyoung politely tells him that she will before helping you out of the car.

Had you known that going back to Sooyoung’s apartment meant that you had to conquer stairs, you may have turned her down. Well, you wouldn’t have because she’s the personification of flawless. But you’d have prepared your legs to feel less like jelly and more capable of completing the trek up to her front door.

She slides a set of keys out of her blazer and opens the front door inviting you to step in first. You do and are greeted by a  space with hardly any furniture. Sparse is the only word that fits her home. Anyone with a knack for home design would have a field day if they were to be welcomed in too. 

“I know, it’s not much. I just moved here from the city and I haven’t had time to finish decorating.” 

All thoughts about how Sooyoung could still be a serial killer who has lured you away from your friends to her apartment that is lacking any form of personal touch evaporates with her explanation. You set yourself a mental reminder to never drink whatever that blue liquid was again, it makes you feel way too trusting.

You move further into the apartment and see that it’s spacious and open planned. The kitchen is well lit with brand new appliances that look like they’ve yet to be used. A television far bigger than the one you own sits on the wall of the living room. Sooyoung sits casually on one of the two white leather sofas as she plays with the remote and turns it on to a music channel. A door blocks off both the left and right side of the apartment, likely leading to a bedroom and bathroom. 

“You can sit, you know. I don’t bite.” Sooyoung pats the space beside her as she speaks. “Well, unless you’re into that.” 

There’s a confidence to everything that Sooyoung says, it makes you feel envious that she’s able to pull it off without being cocky. If you tried, it would likely come out sounding pretentious. You sit beside her, though, there’s probably more space between your bodies than she was hoping for as she shuffles closer toward you. 

“So, what now?” Once again, words are leaving your mouth without you thinking about it. But, you can’t help in feeling awkward that she’s seemingly not made a move beyond putting her hand on your thigh since you agreed to leave the nightclub with her. 

“What do you want to happen now?” 

Truthfully, your lack of experience with the whole one night stand thing had led you to believe that people didn’t even get the chance to scan the person’s apartment that they’d decided to sleep with. Part of you expected Sooyoung to just tear your clothes off the second you walked through her door. Part of you wanted her to do that, then you wouldn’t find yourself in this semi-uncomfortable situation. 

The logical side of your brain that is screaming for you to listen to it is instead and telling you that Sooyoung is not a threat. She’s teasing, flirty, and probably thinking about all of the former things your mind has listed, but she has been respectful thus far and it doesn’t look as if that is going to change anytime soon. 

“I’m not sure, I told you… I’ve never done this before. I thought I’d be back inside another Uber on my way home by now.” You finally reply.

“Are you accusing me of being a five minute hit it and quit it kind of girl?” Once more, that look of being offended without actually being offended overtakes all of her features. Features you can’t help but admire in the clear lighting now rather than the darkness of the club. 

Her face is lacking any blemishes whatsoever, and despite being ready to enter her bedroom, you also wouldn’t like seeing her bathroom just to know what kind of skincare routine she has going on. The same plump lips you wanted to touch with your own are still inviting, but you restrain yourself once more.

“No…  But why would you want me to stay once we both get what we’re here for.” 

This time, it does offend her as your words hit her like a slap to the face and she huffs out a deep breath. 

“Maybe, and bear with me here because it could be a concept you’re unfamiliar with, but just maybe, I like you beyond tonight.” 

She stands abruptly and shuffles towards the kitchen area, her footsteps heavier than previously and shoulders slumped. You consider following her to apologize and ask if she wants you to just leave now, but she returns with a glass of water in one hand and a box in the other. 

“Here, take this.” She opens the box to reveal a strip of tablets and pops two out of the metallic packaging placing them down on the table in front of you both. “Painkillers  for when you wake up, your head is going to feel like hell no doubt.” 

She moves away once more toward one of the closed doors but again returns quickly, this time with a pillow and blanket in tow. She lays the pillow down gently and offers you the blanket to hold onto. 

“As much as I’d love to spend the night with you, and I would have by the way, had you followed me earlier in the night when you still had some sobriety about you. I’m not much into sleeping with drunk girls.” Despite not having a clue who Sooyoung was prior to tonight, you can’t help but feel both happy and hurt by her words. Happy she isn’t willing to take advantage of people in your state. But hurt because by god you’d love nothing more than to wake up next to her after a night of being beneath her. 

She turns on her heels to leave you once more but stops herself upon reaching the bedroom door. 

“But hey, I’ve always had a thing about morning sex, so, who knows? Maybe you’ll still get lucky.” She offers you a quick wink before closing the door. 

This time, she doesn’t return and you’re left to wonder about just what the morning with Sooyoung might have in store for you.

pt.ii

[ambientstars]

In need of a friend - part 1

(Dark!13 x f!reader)

Gif credit: @doctorwhogeneration

Note: I’ve decided to write a series. I’m not sure how long it will be just yet, but I’m excited for it! This series will feature dark themes and although I will put warnings for each part, I want to make it clear that I hold no responsibility should you choose to read it and have a negative experience. Anyway, ENJOY!

Warnings: memory loss and entrapment.

- - -

You awoke slowly, a sigh of content escaping you as you tightened the warm blanket around you. You’d never really been much of a morning person, always finding it hard to wake up and start the day at a reasonable time, so naturally, you allowed your eyes to stay closed and your mind to drift aimlessly for a while longer.

You noted the dull aching in your head and the dryness of your throat, swallowing harshly to try and combat the strain.

A frown forced its way onto your face as you began to notice you were somewhere unfamiliar, the feeling of the bed, although not uncomfortable, the scent of the sheets and the air around you, the silence of the room compared to the usual background noise of the busy streets outside your apartment.

Your eyes lazily opened, blinking a few times in an attempt to get rid of the sandpaper feeling and adjusting to the dim lighting of the room you were in. Huh that’s weird.

You wondered, briefly, if you had gotten drunk and gone home with a stranger, but that wasn’t something you’d be likely to do. In fact, you couldn’t recall drinking anything the night before that would’ve put you in an inebriated state. Even weirder.

The room was pleasant, cream coloured walls and basic wooden furniture that would be required in a bedroom. In the corner stood a bookshelf, a handful of well-worn books stacked neatly on one shelf, a small old fashioned radio on another. Next to the bookshelf sat a plant, a neglected plant you imagined due to the droopiness of the stems and the slight browning of the leaves, but it gave the room character and a hint of colour.

Your stomach growled and you slipped from the bed, your feet sinking into soft carpet. You tried to recall when you last ate, but your mind was fuzzy and the hours seemed to slip away the harder you tried to think.

You straightened out your tshirt in an attempt to remove the wrinkles that had formed in it due to you having slept in it, but to no avail, the creases springing back to their original position. You momentarily thanked a higher power that whoever’s house you were in, they seemed to keep a tidy place and they respected you enough to allow you to keep your clothes on while you slept off the events of whatever happened the night before.

You noticed curiously that the room you were standing in had no windows, the only light coming from the small lamp on the bedside table. That’s odd. Perhaps you weren’t in a house after all or maybe the room was an extension with no place to have windows. You thought it strange to have a room with no view to the outside world, no access for natural light or fresh air, but your stomach rumbled again and suddenly, the windows, or lack thereof, wasn’t a priority anymore.

Although you had woken up alone, you figured the owner of the home wouldn’t want to leave a stranger here alone, if only to protect their belongings from theft or destruction, so you made for the door in the hopes to find the mystery person and ask for food and potentially have your questions answered.

You reached for the cold door handle and frowned when you couldn’t pull the door open. You tried again, twisting the handle over and over, pulling and pushing the door with varying degrees of strength, but nothing worked. The door was locked.

Your heartbeat picked up speed and your breathing became quick and shallow, the room suddenly becoming smaller and smaller, closing in on you, or so it seemed as you realised you were trapped in an unknown room with no windows or open doors. No way out.

You laid numbly on the bed, your head pounding and your throat strained from crying for what felt like hours. Your eyes were puffy and bloodshot, your face flushed and tear stained, the frown line between your brows deeper than ever.

You were exhausted now, all the screaming and crying for help, banging on the door and the walls, just trying to get someone’s attention and beg for escape, for your life.

Grateful to at least have a comfortable bed and warm pillows and blankets to cocoon yourself in, you trembled quietly now, giving up with your pleading, realising that no one was listening or if there was, they didn’t care.

Time passed slowly, the silence of the room making it drag out longer, the loneliness crippling. You tried to remember a time you felt so alone and scared, but nothing could compare to the level of this situation.

Desperately you tried to remember what had happened to bring you here, digging so deep into your fuzzy memory, it felt like you might pass out.

“I’ll be there in 20 minutes,” you laughed into the phone, the annoyed groan of your friend on the other end. “I’ve just got to drop off a few things at grandma’s house first.”

“Well, hurry up!”

You knew she just wanted to see you again after spending your summer abroad, desperate to hold you in a bone crushing hug and sit patiently as you told the stories of your adventures in other countries.

You missed her a great deal and you were also excited to see her in person again, but grandma had had a fall whilst you were away that left her housebound for a while so you offered to bring her groceries every week until she recovered and could do it herself again.

It was later in the evening than you planned to be out, but catching up with work emails had taken longer than you’d thought it would and therefore you’d left your home later than scheduled.

You knew grandma would be asleep by now, so you planned to quietly put away the groceries at her house with the spare key she had given you and leave a note to say you’d stopped by and would call her in the morning.

You took a left at the corner of the street, deciding to take a shortcut to make up for lost time. Unfortunately, this shortcut took you down a handful of alleyways, creepy ones at that.

You spotted your neighbour’s cat, Marco, as you turned, smiling when he came to greet you. He pressed his face against your shin, purring loudly at the contact. You bent down and scratched the underside of his chin, cooing quietly at him as he sat at your feet and relaxed into the touch.

Suddenly his closing eyes snapped open and his ears picked up, his body now on alert. His eyes darted around and settled on something behind you, his body never relaxing.

You turned and stood up straight to face a woman, her face shadowed by the hood of her coat, her chest rising and falling quickly as if she’d been running.

“I like your cat.”

You took a step back, careful not to step on Marco’s paws and watched the stranger intently as she stood rigidly in her spot. “He’s not mine.”

She made a noise of understanding and turned her feet in your direction, something that made the muscles in your back tense.

“I’m sorry, I really need to be somewhere.” You offered a small polite smile and began walking in the opposite direction, continuing the path of the alleyway.

“Wait!”

Your shoulder was gripped tightly and you jumped, accidentally dropping the bag of groceries and hearing a jar smash on the ground, an apple rolling out of the bag and across the concrete.

Had you been kidnapped? You couldn’t remember any more. You felt no pain in your body and there were no signs that you’d been brought here forcefully, leaving you to feel even more confused and deflated.

Your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the door unlocking, your eyes fixated on the handle as it moved and the door slowly opened. You took a deep breath to keep yourself calm, you didn’t know this person or what they were capable of, so staying calm and thinking clearly was critical.

“You’re awake.” It was more of a statement than a question. “I brought you something to eat.”

The voice was soft and friendly, almost melodic. A blonde woman stepped into the room with a gentle smile on her face, holding a plate that held a sandwich in one hand and a cup of liquid in the other.

She walked carefully over to you as if she were trying to avoid spooking you and left the offered nourishment on the bedside table. She gave another, bigger, smile and without another word, retreated out of the room and locked the door again behind her.

You released the heavy breath unintentionally held in your lungs and looked between the food and water now available to you and the door that kept you trapped inside the room, bewildered.

Your capturer seemed kind and gave you the comforts you needed, her face soft and gentle, her frame petite - everything that went against what you’d believed a kidnapper to be.

You picked up the sandwich and hesitantly examined it to make sure it wasn’t filled with anything out of the ordinary, sniffing it to be sure that it didn’t smell like it could kill you and then finally, took a bite into the soft bread, the taste of raspberry jam on your tongue and a contented moan muffled in your throat.

[airiustide]

Zutara writing prompt request- Zuko and Katara hook up after a fire nation ceremony... short while after she finds out she’s pregnant?

A/N: Hey, anon! So, instead of doing what you requested, this whooooole thing turned into fluff, (with a few hints *whink whink*) nonetheless, it turned out sweet, with the right amount of flirtiness, and zuko giving lots of kisses.

Summary: Three months after a one night stand and Zuko doesn’t know how to face Katara. Not enough alcohol could give him the courage to confess just how much that night had conjured dormant feelings. But it just might be enough to take in what he learns next. 

He couldn’t concentrate clearly with everyone conversing so loudly. Space invaded by acquaintances and strangers alike. The grand ballroom was occupied by guests, a summit held with the world’s highest officials and leaders. Weeks of endless meetings and settled treaties finally moved to an evening filled with loud music and gourmet food. Every face he came across was a blur. His eager gaze sweeps across the extravagant room, draped in the gold and red of his nation’s colors.

Where was she? He repeated to himself, looking around anxiously, palms sweaty. There was a thundering in his ears and Zuko’s heart drummed in his chest. He swallowed the remaining contents of his ninth cup of wine, swiftly dismissing anyone who attempted to grasp his attention whilst he maneuvered the room in search of the one person he had been working so hard to find since this whole thing started. 

He could very well be kidding himself. Selfishly thinking that after all this time she might have a semblance of feelings for him as he did for her. Or perhaps sleeping with her before confessing only made him come off pathetic.

He was going to lose his mind thinking about it. Zuko rubbed a hand down his face, starting to feel shame swell in his chest. Why? Did he really fuck things up that bad? He’s always done his best not to let things eat at him, but Katara wasn’t just anything or anyone, for that matter. 

If she wasn’t there when he was at his lowest; vulnerable and despondent, maybe things would’ve turned out different. Day after day spent between the throne room and his chambers only to end it with...himself. The loneliness settled in like a dark mass, weighing heavily on his person. And on the anniversary of his mother’s disappearance, it all came tumbling down with a tall glass of fire whiskey and the lips of the waterbender who shared it with him.

She tasted sweet despite the heat of the liquor. His name hit his lips hotly from her mouth, a pleasant mewl that coaxed him closer and closer. Wiping away the heaviness that tore him day in and day out. Whether it was the alcohol or it was a fleeting act of emotions, Zuko couldn’t accept either. Though, he couldn’t speak for Katara. Maybe he was the only one reading deeper into this than necessary.

The thought had him needing to replace his empty cup of wine for another. Reaching out as a waiter crossed him with a gold-plated tray filled with goblets, Zuko didn’t calculate the proper distance between him and the tray, accidentally knocking it over along with the waiter. In his hazy state, the young Fire Lord attempts to stop the waiter from meeting the floor by grabbing his collar and, instead, falls right on top of him. 

Wine spilled, and goblets clanged. Zuko’s face goes red hot, utterly horrified at his clumsy, drunken state. With the aid of nearby guests both him and the waiter were helped to their feet.  A quick apology and a bow, and Zuko rushes out of the room, clinging to the chest of his soaked royal robes.

“Woah, there!” A familiar voice stops him in his tracks. A gentle hand flattening against his strong chest ignites a well known spark. “And where do you think you’re going in that state, Fire Lord?” 

He looks down to find Katara’s teasing smile, the smile reaching her radiant eyes and accenting the glow of her features. The dress she wore was lined with fur and embroidered in tribal designs. Her hair was left in chocolate waves and pinned to the side to fall over her left shoulder. It steals his breath and suddenly all his nerves go haywire. “I-I-” 

Katara’s face turns into concern. “Are you okay? You look pale.”

Zuko inhales, gathering his composure and bows formally to Katara’s surprise. “Ambassador Katara. Welcome back. How was your visit home?”

“Umm, I’m not against formalities, but I don’t think now is the time for that. We should get you cleaned up.” She takes his arm, nodding her head at Zuko’s guards who witnessed the scene of their Lord’s incident, taking the indication that they should return to their post and that the Master waterbender had it from here. “Geez, Zuko, you smell like booze.” She pointed, lifting his arm around her shoulder and leading him out of the ballroom. 

“Well, I did just take a bath in wine.” He scoffed.

She rolls her eyes. “I mean your breath, silly. You smell like you consumed a winery.”

“Is that a bad thing?” He quipped, a slur left his lips, causing Katara to laugh.

“It is when you do it without me.”

Zuko’s temperature spiked, pulsing in the center of his stomach and leaving a tingling in the pit of his abdomen. Katara cleared her throat, feeling his skin go hot and squeezing his arm to get him to calm down. 

“Getting a little too excited, I see.” He was terribly adorable when he was flustered. She blushed as well, repeating the words in her head and recalling the events that led from a single bottle to his bed. His hot touch; his tongue in her mouth, on her skin, her palm, her thighs, her-

She comes to when they approach his chambers, her first thought was to take him to bed but changed her mind when she’s reminded of the dried wine sticking to his clothes, skin and hair. “Bath.” She tells him, getting Zuko to help work their way to the washroom because he started to get heavy. 

The stonework to the large room took Katara’s breath away. It was as big as a pool in a hot spring. A set of doors led to a private patio, closed off to the outside world and surrounded by orchids, arranged stones and luscious green leaves. Probably a good place to mediate, Katara thought. 

She lays him carefully on a lounge chair, removing the armor from his shoulders and wrists. Zuko doesn’t take his eyes off her; taking in every touch of her hands as she removes his sash, and unwraps his outer robe. Fingers unintentionally brush his collarbone as they work open his tunic, coming down to remove his boots. Katara catches him staring as she goes to release his hair and crown from his topknot. 

“Soft.” He hums, a lopsided smirk directed at Katara. 

She chuckles, cupping his cheek. “Don’t get flirty, Fire Lord, only one of us is inebriated.” He hisses when her fingers hook into his trousers and jerks them off with a tug. 

“Katara!” He shrieked, provoking the waterbender to lose it after he instinctively went to cover his crotch. The jolt of cold air and the realization that he was now naked knocked him slightly sober.

“Nothing I haven’t seen before. Aside from already having had a good look at what’s between your legs, on numerous occasions, mind you.” She grinned. “Being a healer means I’ve seen plenty of the male anatomy, more than I can count. Let’s get you clean, shall we.”

Katara helps him to the bath, holding his hand as he submerged himself in water, still covering himself with his free hand. Coming back up, he wipes his eyes and slicks back hair away from his face. Once he’s seated, she removes her slippers, lifting up her dress and dipping her feet in the water with a sigh. “Now that’s better.”

A quiet falls in the room as steam rises; thick, most likely from Zuko’s embarrassment. He’d never looked so red from the face down. 

“You never wrote back.” He murmured, so low that Katara didn’t catch it at first.

He watched her shift uncomfortably, ruffling her hair of water droplets, the steam making her tresses thick and wavy. Zuko half expected her to ignore the subject, or a part of him hoped she would. What if he was coming off too strong? Or worse, desperate. 

“It’s not that I didn’t want to…” She started. “A lot has been going through my mind. I needed some time to...process.”

Zuko swallowed thickly, casting his gaze down to the water, watching as it tinted red from the wine that clung to his skin and hair. “I get it.”

“Do you?” She asked, tone serious and brow furrowed. 

“I-” He looked up at her, confused. Her expression was that of disappointment. “No, I guess I don’t. Not from your end at least. Yet, I had some hope you would clarify that for me, so I'm not here thinking that the last three months you had come to hate me.”

“What?!”

“It’s unfair to expect me to empathize with you after sleeping together then never hearing from you again. I’m not very good at reading between the lines, Kat. Yeah, sleeping with me was probably the dumbest thing to do. But I have feelings t-”

“I’m pregnant, Zuko.”

“Oh, yeah? Well, I- come again?”

Her hand comes up to cover her mouth, eyes squinting as though she might start to cry. “I’m pregnant.”

Zuko’s voice caught in his throat, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. “It’s-it’s mine?”

She shot him a glare. 

“It’s mine.” He repeated. “It’s mine.” In a daze, he crosses the water toward Katara, first reaching out to grasp the hand covering her mouth, lacing it in his own. Blue eyes finally look up to find a smiling Zuko. How can he take the news without an ounce of worry?

“You’re drunk.” She excused for him, dismissing his overly happy expression.

“I’m drunk, that doesn’t mean I’m incomprehensible.”

“You might change your mind in the morning.”

“I won’t.”

“How do you know?”

“How do you?” Zuko countered, brow arched. “Want to know how I know?”

Katara cocks her head, unsure of what he was getting at.

“Because of this.” He leans in to brush a kiss below her ear, eliciting a spark on her skin. “And this.” His smile widens when he kisses her forehead, a gasp leaving Katara’s lips. “And this.”He hums, pressing his lips to her cheeks, chin and then, finally, lips; an airy kiss that left her wanting more.

His mouth makes a path to her right arm, stopping to display an especially sensual one to the palm of her hand. “Zuko.” She moaned, shaking all the way to her knees. 

Logic screamed at her that this was her best friend. And though their one night stand opened up the truth to how she felt about Zuko, getting pregnant was not in the cards. The first thing she wanted to do upon her return from home was confess but fate had other plans. Every thought, from the possibility that Zuko might think she was trying to trap him to her resigning from Ambassador to raise the baby in secret, ran through her head. It took more courage than she cared to mention just to show up at the summit. She was an Ambassador, regardless of her situation, she couldn’t not show up.

As she tried to make sense of this, all the while, Zuko had lifted her dress just above her belly, gently pushing down on her shoulder, coaxing her to lie on her back. It was like he was in a trance, hands caressing the flat of her belly. Pregnancy was hardly noticeable at this stage. He didn’t seem to care, pressing butterfly kisses all over until it was too much and Katara started to giggle from the ticklish pecks and breathy whispers he made to the little one in her belly. Expressing how he couldn’t wait to meet them. 

“You’re out of your mind.” Katara teased, combing her fingers through his long, silky hair. The panic she experienced moments ago began to dissolve. 

Zuko makes a goofy grin, resting his cheek on her stomach. There weren't enough words or actions to express how happy he was. Only an hour ago, he was just a lonely man with little to look forward to. Now he has gained a family. “Only for you. That is, if you’re all in.”

Hurdles were bound to be faced. Katara’s life would change drastically. They didn’t have the first clue on how to make this work, but by the Spirits they would figure this out. This was them after all, Zuko and Katara. That’s all they needed to get a head start. “I’m in.”

[tsarisfanfiction]

WIP #48

(Send me a number 1-60 [or a fandom/character I guess] for the corresponding wip) because I’m bored and brain-fried and have too many wips that’ll otherwise never see the light of day.

For @rachfielden-xo who asked for “Number 3 - Thunderbirds Are Go x”.  As number 3 isn’t TAG, I grabbed the third TAG fic instead!

Okay, so this is a reject that I started writing for irrelief, but it just got too ooc for my liking, so I scrapped it and rewrote it from the beginning, which became Grape Juice or Wine.  So yes, this one is pretty ooc and little terrible, but it’s in the folder so here it comes...  A sneak peak at the stuff I usually never let see the light of day!

Alan was fairly sure there were rules against this.  As an unfortunate soul with four older brothers, and one adopted older sister, he was well-versed in the many, many ways older siblings could torment a younger. Various methods of hazing, abandoning him to play with kids while they did the cool stuff, and calling ‘older brother privilege’ whenever there was anything fun and exciting with a limited amount of spaces.

(Of course, there were also many good things about five older siblings, but Alan was sulking and choosing to ignore those for the moment.)

This, however, had to take the cake.  There was nothing more humiliating as a younger brother than being forced to stay and watch your older sibling do something utterly cringe-worthy, and this time it wasn’t one of them.  It was all four brothers.  Kayo had escaped using her general sneaky Kayo-ness, which left one, desolate, teenage boy lurking at the edge of a high function party that was technically adults only.  It was being hosted by Penelope, and in what he had thought was an admission that he was not the immature teenager his brothers claimed, but rather a responsible, grown up member of society she had waived the age limit in his case.

At the time, that had been amazing.  Now, he was wishing he’d followed Kayo’s lead and escaped while he had the chance.

Gordon, an adult by British standards, was mooning over the British aristocrat.  By itself, that was nothing unusual, but the shy, stilted awkwardness Alan had grown used to seeing whenever Penelope was in the vicinity (no matter how Gordon denied being anything other than “utterly cool and suave”) was gone.  An adult function had adult drinks, and someone had let Gordon near them. Red-faced and slurring, any elegance Gordon might have exhibited at the start of the event, some three hours previously in a sharp suit with gaudy yellow tie and pale pink rose in his pocket that just happened to match the dress Penelope had selected for the evening, had fled with no return in sight.

Alan looked away and pretended he didn’t know him as he tripped over his own feet for the nth time, managing to tear his expensive trousers at the knee and splash whatever cocktail he’d had in his hand over the bottom of Penelope’s dress.  It didn’t stop him from hearing Parker’s outraged cry, and Penelope’s calm and measured assertion that perhaps he’d had quite enough to drink and should have a glass of water and sit down.  It certainly didn’t stop him hearing Gordon’s negative response – apparently being drunk just made Gordon louder.

The corner of the room held the opposite problem.  John, ever responsible, and ever despairing of social situations, had secreted himself away behind the lavish curtains of the ballroom they were stuck in. Unfortunately, British aristocrats had an uncanny sense for nerves – wasn’t that supposed to be a horse thing – and what had supposed to be a hideaway for the evening with a good book had ended up a prison cell for his brother.  Gaggles of women, none so obviously inebriated as Gordon but with a rosy flush to their cheeks Alan didn’t think was makeup alone, had cornered the astronaut and were plying him with drink after drink while forcing conversation upon him.

Normally, Alan would stick with his brother.  He’d struck out earlier, full of excitement at being classified as an ‘adult’, determined to mingle.  By the time he’d realised that no-one except Penelope had any intention of treating him as such, several elderly ladies going so far as to aww him and pinch his cheeks when he tried to make conversation, his safe haven in the form of John had been compromised.  Shattered glass littered the floor by his feet, white suit splattered with crimson wine stains, but any and all attempts John made to clear it up were fouled by the women determined to catch his attention.

While not as worthy of disownment as Gordon, Alan was still trying to pretend he didn’t know the ginger for the time being.

Virgil was also making a spectacle of himself, and not in the usual way his musical brother did at parties.  A grand piano in the corner was occupied by another pianist, and Virgil’s early offers to play had been dismissed by the Brit.  Alan thought the man was an idiot, especially as Virgil could play better than him, but good, kind Virgil with a heart of gold had taken the cold shoulder with easy grace, and gone to find other pastures.

Sadly, those other pastures included wine, and while Virgil could hold his liquor reasonably well (unlike Gordon, who was now trying to screech some sort of… something at Penelope which was far less enchanting than he believed), he was still drunk and currently attempting to fit as many cookies in his mouth as possible, whilst holding a conversation with an equally drunk young man Alan didn’t know and spraying both their suits with crumbles and spittle.  The disapproving looks they were getting from the very same women that had been calling him adorable and pinching his cheeks minutes earlier prompted Alan to disown him, too.

This was his first grand, adult, party, and he’d wanted to make a good impression.  That could not be done if it was known that the drunkard in the middle of the room, harassing the hostess, was his immediate older brother, or that the one with no table manners at all was the next one up, or even that the recluse in the corner with wine stains and a habit of dropping glasses was related to him.  Nor could it be done as long as his eldest brother alternated between flirting with anything on two legs – female, male, or performing dog – with increasing cheesiness as his own glass emptied and refilled over and over again, and clucking all over him like a concerned mother hen.

“Alan, are you enjoying yourself?  Alan, don’t touch the alcohol.  Alan, that had better be fruit juice you’re drinking.  Alan, you’ve got a crumb on your cheek.  Alan your tie is wonky.  Alan. Alan.  Alan.”

He wasn’t lurking by the wall, pretending to be ornamentation instead of a guest, just to avoid old women and their pinches.  All of his brothers were being an embarrassment, but none more so than Scott – who pipped Gordon purely by virtue of not leaving him alone long enough to be socially disownable.  He was fairly certain that was at least half the reason the women were cooing over him.

Somewhere near Gordon, who had found his feet again and was clinging to Penelope’s arm like the squid he was as he talked a mile a minute at the top of his lungs about utter nonsense, and Virgil, who seemed to be on his second platter of cookies, and not quite blocking his view of John now on his knees amongst fancy ballgown skirts, Scott was flirting with the oldest woman in the room, and Alan seriously considered fleeing the event entirely.

“I’m way too sober for this,” he bemoaned.  He’d never been drunk in his life, didn’t know if alcohol really numbed things like embarrassment or if his brothers were just capable of being that humiliating without it and just chose not to most of the time, but tales dragged out from past parties implied that it would help.  The punch bowl was looking mighty tempting.

He settled for grabbing another, dutifully non-alcoholic, drink from a waiter as he wandered past and throwing it back in one go.

“That ‘ad better not ‘ave been h’alcohol, Master h’Alan, sir,” Parker’s disapproving voice drawled, and Alan groaned, turning to face the chauffeur/butler/whatever Penelope needed-er.

“It was orange juice.”

Parker held out a hand expectantly and, rolling his eyes, Alan handed the glass over for inspection. The man sniffed the glass suspiciously for several moments before straightening again.

“h’Orange juice it was,” he agreed, slipping the empty glass onto a passing waiter’s tray with a sleight of hand Alan wished he could emulate.  “Sorry, Master h’Alan, sir.  Master Scott h’asked me to keep h’an eye on you.”

“As well as the eye he’s keeping on me?” Alan grumbled, knowing without looking that his eldest brother had switched to hover mode again and was making a beeline for him.

“h’Well, you h’are h’under eighteen,” Parker reminded him.  “’er Ladyship wasn’t supposed to h’invite you in the first place.”

“Alan!” Scott greeted, again, slinging an arm around his shoulders.  His suit was still immaculate – the only one of Alan’s brothers to not somehow spill something on himself so far despite the glass of wine clutched in his hand.  “Why are you hiding?”

“I’m not hiding,” Alan protested.  “I was talking with Parker.”

“Your brother is behaving ‘imself remarkably, Master Scott, sir,” Parker obligingly interjected. “Per’aps you should be focusing on the h’other one.”  He sent a dark look towards the centre of the room.

“Gordon’s not doing any harm,” Scott dismissed with a wave of the wineglass.  The liquid barely sloshed and Alan was reminded that Scott did, supposedly, know what he was doing at high function events.

“h’I beg to disagree, sir,” Parker muttered.  “h’If you gentlemen will h’excuse me.”  Alan didn’t want to excuse the only reasonable conversationalist in the room, but Parker didn’t wait for a complaint before making purposeful strides towards where Gordon had started attempting to serenade Penelope in a terrible, out of tune rendition of Drunken Sailor.  Normally, Gordon could sing.  Drunk, he was apparently tone deaf.

The song choice seemed appropriate, and he said as much to Scott, who grinned before scowling at his tie, straightening it again even though no-one had touched it since the last time Scott had been over to “smarten him up”.  Alan suspected he was just as drunk as Virgil as he batted him away ineffectually and diverted his attention towards where Penelope had finally disentangled herself from Gordon with some assistance from Parker and was heading their way.

As soon as Scott turned, he scarpered, and dutifully hid in the toilets with a good game – adulting be damned – until Parker came to drag him out several hours later to an almost empty ballroom and a pile of drunk and exhausted (or just exhausted, in the case of John) brothers in the middle.

“h’I’m afraid getting them ‘ome h’is your job, Master h’Alan,” the butler said.  He at least sounded apologetic, even if he was glaring daggers at Gordon.  “’er Ladyship ‘as h’another h’appointment in the morning h’and needs to return ‘ome h’immediately.”

The Lady in question was talking quietly to the last few non-Tracy guests as they left the ballroom. Alan groaned.  Tracy One was parked on the helipad at the top of the building, and he was starting to realise why Scott had allowed Penelope to invite him.

Next time, one of them could be the designated pilot.  He was never attending any ‘adult party’ again.

[firewhisperer13]

You Better Bring an Umbrella, Vol. 2: Chapter 20

Chapter 20: Trauma Under the Influence

Disclaimer: I have never been drunk, or even drank alcohol before, so I have absolutely no idea what it’s like to be inebriated. However, I’ve heard it’s similar to being extremely tired, and I’ve definitely been there, so that’s my basis for Mina’s drunkenness (I may or may not be writing this whilst tired, so I can get accurate results)

Also, it is really hard to capture the charm of the end of this scene in writing… damn…

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

           My thoughts swirled and slammed together as I continued to spin myself around in the blue suede chair I’d plopped down into, unsure of whether the alcohol or the rapid motions would make me puke first. I hadn’t planned on drinking when Klaus, Vanya, Allison, and I had left Elliott’s, but after Allison suggested we head back to the parlor where she worked to eat—since, unfortunately, most places wouldn’t even let her walk in, which was absolute bullshit—Klaus pulled out a bunch of bottles he’d stashed in a bag, and we all started to ramble about the shambles of our love lives. After being forced to relive the last 20 hours, I suddenly felt the intense need for one drink… then five… and then I lost count.

           I brought myself to a halt as Allison growled angrily, reaching for the bottle of vodka on her vanity with one hand and combing through Klaus’ hair with the other. I’d never seen her so fired up in my life, but it was pretty amusing.

           “The nerve of that man,” she snapped, her words ringing a little bit in my head. “I mean, one thing goes wrong, and he’s on a warpath. I mean doesn’t know who I am? No, no. No, Ray. You know exactly who I am. You just can’t handle it”

I laughed as, beside me, Vanya pretended to shoot at the small bottles lined up on the vanity in front of her, using her fingers as the gun. God, I loved seeing her now that she’d stopped taking those pills Dad forced on her. Her true personality was really starting to blossom.

“I’m protecting him,” Allison denied, definitely trying to convince herself of that more than she was the rest of us. Forgetting Klaus was sitting in front of her for a moment, she swung her hand out for dramatic effect, slapping him on the back of the head.

           “Ow!” he exclaimed, rubbing the back of his head with the hand that wasn’t nursing a cigarette. “From what?”

           “The end of the world, for one.”

           That caught Vanya’s attention, causing her to perk her head up and look to her two siblings across from her in the mirror, no longer preoccupied with all the little bottles.

           “Is the world really gonna end in six days?” Her words came out slightly slurred… although, admittedly, that could have been some distortion on my part. My head felt like it was underwater. Allison halted in pushing back Klaus’ hair into clips, staring at her sister’s reflection with her jaw slightly agape.

           “Well, it did last time…” I suddenly lost my train of thought, waving my hand in an attempt to bring it back to me. “…and we did everything Five could think of to stop it.” Klaus brought his feet down from the vanity and stood up, beginning to make his way to the center of the room as he reached for his beloved flask.

           “Hey, wouldn’t it be weird if Five grew up all hot? Wouldn’t that be weird?” he asked out of nowhere. My nausea intensified as I slowly processed his words, unable to imagine my brother as anything but the little kid presented in front of us. Not to mention, the mere notion of something like that completely grossed me out. Thankfully, I wasn’t the only one, as my sisters also voiced their disgust.

           “What?” Vanya scoffed, trying to dismiss the thought.

           ��Eww,” Allison gagged. Klaus immediately whipped around and stared at her with wide eyes, a new opportunity discovered.

           “Oh! ‘Oh, eww! Eww!’ Please, Miss ‘Luther was my lover’.” I nearly choked on my own spit, laughing hysterically at Klaus’ callout. Finally, someone else in the family saw the weirdness with that situation!

           “We have never even kissed,” Allison shot back, trying to quell Klaus before he got the train moving. But there was no way in hell was I about to let this go.

           “Yeah, but you were making little sick moon-dog eyes at each other all through puberty and breakfasts and that,” Klaus taunted, one of his hips jutting out. I’d completely lost control of my laughter at this point, but compared to Allison and Luther, there wasn’t room to judge that.

           “Aren’t we all brothers and sisters, or…?” Vanya pointed out, spinning her chair around as Allison collapsed down, gripping the neck of her bottle for dear life. Klaus snorted and leaned down, joining me in my uproarious laughter.

           “Well… technically…” Allison stuttered.

           “’Technically’?” I interjected. “If you have to word… if you have to use the word ‘technically’, you’re already in trouble.” I shouldn’t have opened my mouth. The moment I reprimanded Allison, Klaus jumped on his opportunity, not even missing a beat.

           “Oh, please! You have no room to talk, missy.” He pointed down at me, smirking. I felt a hot shame start to creep over me as my sisters cast their eyes in my direction, realizing it could only be one of them. “Did Five not imply, back at the Superstar, that you once had a crush on our lovely Vanya?”

           I pushed myself all the way up out of my chair, teetering slightly at the sudden movement as I attempted to get my bearings enough to stand up straight. Allison’s cackling across from me only made the room spin more, but I refused to go down like this.

           “In my defense!” I practically screamed. “Dad never really explained to Five and I that all of us were supposed to be related. He just—told us that he and I were related. I thought the rest-rest of you were just, like… other people that happened to live there or some shit. It wasn’t until we were, like, eight that he actually called Vanya my sister, and the crush immediately died there.” Feeling as though I’d talked myself out of the hole, I attempted to curtsey, but it ended in me falling against Klaus.

           “Okay, can… can we focus?” Allison spoke up, drawing our attentions back to her. “I mean, clearly we’re not saving the world tonight, but maybe, maybe, we could at least try to save my marriage.” I jumped back and crashed into the chair behind me as Klaus poured more alcohol into his flask, filling it to the point that some of the golden liquid started to spill over.

           “Oh, shit. Sorry, sir,” I apologized, patting the piece of furniture in the hopes he’d forgive me.

           “No!” Klaus whined. “No, because that’s like… that’s like asking a nun how to hump someone’s leg.” I turned to Vanya, an eyebrow raised, unsure as to where exactly Klaus was going with this… especially considering the fact we’d just been talking about our brothers and sisters. “I mean, who in this room knows shit about relationships? This one?” I instinctively shot my hands up in surrender as he pointed at me. “Who had a girlfriend that used to be a mental patient for, what, eight hours before she banished her?”

           “Okay, you weren’t there,” I defended. “First of all, she’s not crazy. She’s just lying about something. And besides, we’re not broken up yet, we’re just… fighting… from a distance.” It didn’t sound right, now that I’d said it out loud.

           “You’re not helping your case,” Klaus scoffed, before immediately turning his attention to Vanya. “Or, this one? In secret love with some farm Frau?”

           “Her name’s Sissy,” Vanya sighed, clearly exasperated by even the thought of her relationship with the woman.

           “Which is an improvement on her previous love interest,” my eyes widened as Klaus kept going, “the serial killer?” Vanya straightened in her seat, eyes wide with panic.

           “What?” Allison shook her head and mouthed the word ‘later’, dispelling the confusion for the time being.

           “Meanwhile, I’m carrying a torch… for a soldier I haven’t technically met yet, and Luther’s in love with his sister.” I shrugged. That basically summed up our family.

           “Okay, again, we’re not biological.” That really was the hill Allison wanted to die on?

           “Face it, the healthiest long-term relationship in this family was when Five was banging that mannequin.”

           I gagged again, my brain on fire as I pushed that concept away. Klaus had the amazing ability to just completely forget that some of us were actually related, and wanted absolutely nothing to do with the idea of them… ugh. Granted, I wouldn’t want to think about that for any of these guys, but especially not my little brother!

           “Okay, your speaking plivages has been revoked.” A few moments after the sentence left my mouth, my brows furrowed. Something hadn’t been quite right about what I’d just said, but I couldn’t quite figure out what. (A/N: yes, this is an actual thing I accidentally said during planning. My brain works faster than my mouth, so my speech slurs sometimes in an attempt to catch up)

           “The only thing the Umbrella Academy knows about love…” Klaus raised his flask in the air, as though there was something to celebrate. “…is how to screw it up.”

           I sighed, realizing he was right. The bottle perched on the vanity beside me began to call out to me as my mind sunk down, prompting me to reach out and take a swig of the liquid. When I’d first started drinking the rum, it stung on the way down, but now, I barely felt it. Funny how that worked.

           “How do you guys deal with this?” Vanya groaned, leaning her head back against the chair.

           “What?” I asked, the conversation we’d just had somehow completely flying out of my mind, leaving me confused.

           “I mean, all of it. The time travel, seeing the dead, having a disappearing brother, the end of the world.” The thought of Five disappearing again caused a hell of a lot more panic in me once I had alcohol in my system. Thankfully, Klaus seemed to catch it, and he came over and draped an arm around my shoulders, instantly calming me.

           “Well, I get really high,” he began to explain. “Mina literally dances until she drops.” Offended, I scoffed and pushed his arm off me. How dare he not know I hadn’t done that in two years? He hadn’t been there at all, so clearly, he should have known.

           Wait…

           “Allison.” Klaus hunched over and attempted to whisper, but it didn’t go very well. “Allison lies to herself.” Infuriated, the woman in question kicked her legs out, striking a stool and sending it in Klaus’ direction. “And you suppress all your emotions deep, deep down until you… you blow shit up.”

           “Yeah, I’d really like to not do that anymore.”

           “Well, you’ve got six days, missy.” Klaus spoke as though that was somehow supposed to help, but I couldn’t find any logic behind it.

           “What the hell are we supposed to do with six days?” Allison demanded, angrily brushing out some of her curls.

I kept trying to come up with something, but the longer I thought, the more ideas left my brain. Was there some way to keep them in? Just in case, I looked down at the floor around me, making sure they hadn’t fallen down there.

           “Party?” our brother suggested. Typical.

           Vanya had gone oddly quiet, and when I cast a glance to her, she had a new sense of determination written on her face.

           “I’m gonna tell Sissy that I love her,” she asserted, sitting up a little straighter as a result. “I don’t want any secrets.”

           Honestly, that wasn’t a terrible idea. I should do that…

           Not confessing to Sissy, obviously. I could find Lila and talk to her, maybe lay everything out on the table from both sides. Both of us knew we were lying to each other, so why not just completely clear the air? Sure, her coming from the 60s, her mind might be blown a little bit by the concept of the world making it all the way to 2019, but hey, it was worth it to find out what the hell was going on with her.

           “You know what?” My siblings all looked to me. “I’m gonna find Lila, and I’m gonna get the truth out of her. ‘Cuz I really, really like her, but, like, I can’t just keep doing this if she’s going to lie to me.” Allison waved the comb she’d been holding in my direction, quickly swapping it out for her bottle as she stood.

           “Yeah. Yeah, yeah, you’re right.” Never thought I’d hear her say that. “Yes, ‘cause, you know, if it’s all gonna go tits-up, the least I could do is be honest with my husband.” Despite our optimism, Klaus’s expression had fallen sullen.

           “Oh… does that mean I have to face my cult?” I nodded vigorously. This was an all-or-nothing endeavor. “I just hate group break-ups. It’s why I stopped dating twins.”

           With a renewed sense of confidence, Vanya threw her hands up, a smile dancing its way onto her face.

           “This family’s amazing.”

           Allison, Klaus, and I burst out laughing, choosing not to point out that she didn’t know the half of it. Besides, our Dad may not have been the best man, but the siblings we’d been surrounded by? They were pretty damn great.

           Overwhelmed with love, I reached over and yanked Klaus up, pulling him into a hug. He chuckled and gently shuffled the two of us over to Allison, forming a line of Hargreeves.

           “Come here, Vanya,” Allison called, opening the three of us up for her to join the group hug. “Come on. Get over here.”

           My head shot back with laughter as Vanya pushed herself up from the chair and executed three short little bunny hops to get herself over to us, pressing her body right into the middle of the group. Something just hadn’t felt complete without her, and now that she was here… maybe things would finally start to go right.

           Jesus, I missed these guys so much…            

           “I love you guys,” Klaus sighed, leaning his head against mine.

           “I love you guys, too.” I couldn’t help but get a little choked up, though it went away just a second later.

           The song over the radio changed—when the hell did that radio get there? —, a much more upbeat tune filling up the space, and Allison gasped, her eyes lighting up.

           “Oh! You guys! I love this song!”

           As she turned the enthusiastic tune up—I recognized it as Sam Cooke’s Twistin’ the Night Away… I think—the dancer in me started to take over, and I couldn’t help but begin to tap my feet.

           It wasn’t long before my siblings started to join in, shaking their hips and pumping their arms up and down, letting themselves loose after the stress and hell we’d all endured this week. Smiling wide, I reached out and took Vanya’s hands, twisting our shoulders back and forth as the two of us laughed. Our shoes slipped against the waxed floor, causing us to stumble even more than the alcohol already was, but there weren’t any casualties to speak of.

           Allison suddenly grabbed onto our wrists and whipped the two of us around, pulling us into a line behind her and Klaus before she attached herself to a small cart of beauty supplies, bowing to it before dancing around it like it was a partner. At first, I wanted to laugh at my sister and how ridiculous she looked, but as Klaus and Vanya found themselves attracted to the object, I couldn’t just look away, either, and I found myself spinning around right by their sides.

           Who gave a shit if I looked like a fool? My siblings had seen that side of me for 18 years… and even beyond that.

           We darted back and forth across the salon, plopping down into chairs and lowering dryers over our heads, just doing whatever felt good. At one point, as I passed by my own reflection, I became distracted by the movement, and I spun the chair in front of the mirror around once before slinging myself into it and blowing a kiss toward myself. The alcohol probably fueled that moment of self-confidence, but screw it. I had to have some at one point or another, right?

           Just before the music ended, Klaus suddenly yanked me off my feet and spun me around in circles, causing me to screech as he caught me off-guard. Still, when he put me down on my feet again, I finished off my dance with my brother.

           The four of us laughed as the song faded out, plopping back down into our respective chairs. We remained in a tired silence, until Klaus’ eyes moved to me, now filled with curiosity. I stiffened slightly upon noticing it, uneasy about the directions he could potentially take that look in.

           “Hey, Mina, what happened to that woman you were with before Lila?” he asked suddenly.

           The world felt like it had come to a stop around me, my head now pounding with intense drums in time with the beat of my heart. My stomach began to churn, my breath shortening by the second. I’d mentioned Helen, ever so briefly, at the start of our outing, but I tried so hard just to not think about it.

           “Shit, Mina, I didn’t mean to—“

           These thoughts couldn’t just stay pent up forever. It wasn’t like there was anyone I could see to talk things out in this day and age, for several reasons, and Klaus had always been the first person I turned to (even when Five was around, there was just things Klaus understood better) in times like these. If there was anyone who I could finally let this loose on, it was him. Not to mention, Allison and Vanya would understand. We were struggling in different ways, but at the end of the day, it all came back to the fact we weren’t welcome in this time, and the same went for Klaus.

           With a deep breath, I pushed myself up and stuck a hand out, cutting him off.

           “It’s fine, Klaus. I have to talk about this eventually, otherwise it’s just going to become something that eats away at me.”

My eyes glossed over my brother and sisters one last time, their patient expressions reminding me I was safe here among them.

           “Her family found out about us, eventually. We figured it was going to happen eventually, but she’d hoped that when they did, they’d remember she was their daughter, and they’d still love her just like they had before they knew. But…” I fought down the bitterness climbing up my throat. “They were furious. Her parents screamed and threatened us, and they tried to say that Helen was ‘brainwashed’ by me, that I’d ‘infected’ her… and they forced her to go and see one of those people—the people that do those stupid ‘Conversion Therapies’. She didn’t have a choice. Her family still bothered me for a long while after they sent Helen away, but eventually, it all died down, and the house got quiet.” I swallowed, watching as my siblings’ expressions quickly turned to ones of horror. “Last I heard, she got married to a man and has a family with him. So… there’s that.”

           My eyes fell shut, trying to get my brain to stop screaming. I forced myself not to go back to that place, trying to prevent a potential disaster, reveling in the silence instead. No one dared to move, or even breathe, for several moments after my words finished spilling out, but eventually, I heard the squeaking of chairs moving, the rustling of fabric, and Allison’s heels clicking against the floor.

           I began to sob as my siblings wrapped their arms around me, trying their best to offer reassurance for something they couldn’t truly understand. To me, that didn’t matter. I wasn’t so sure I’d ever be able to understand it myself. All four of us were punished just for being us, which laid at the root of all of this.

           How the hell did we end up in a situation like this?

           I expected the pain to start fading away, for the hurt to start dulling as I gripped tight onto my brother and sisters, but instead, everything just started to swell, growing more and more intense as the moments went on. What the hell?

           The sun had completely set by the time we all left. I could feel myself mostly sobering up, but I hadn’t brought my car down this way, so I’d need to take a cab regardless. As I slid into the back seat, I almost instinctively asked to be taken to Elliott’s shop, but on second thought… maybe a bath and a change of clothes would help me feel better. I could even sleep in my own bed tonight, instead of that paper-thin mattress Elliott had.

           Hopefully, my brothers wouldn’t worry too much—if they were even back.

           I’d started to calm down on the drive home, realizing that a weight had been lifted off of me that I had carried around for so long. Nothing would ever make it completely go away, but just getting what happened out there in the open… it helped a lot.

           Unfortunately, all that progress came undone as I unlocked my front door. My foot kicked a little envelope that had been slipped in through the mail slot while I’d been gone. Strangely, there was no name written on it, nor was there a return address or stamp. Though I was wary of the object’s presence in my home, my curiosity got the better of me, and I opened up the envelope. Inside rested a crisp, thick piece of cardstock. The image of an umbrella had been printed on the top, along with the words ‘From the desk of Sir Reginald Hargreeves’.

           Shit.

           How in the hell did he even find my address? Or know that I existed? He and I had never even run into each other.

           The text neatly printed onto the creamy paper certainly didn’t help to calm me down any.

           To my pursuers,

           I, Reginald Hargreeves, request the pleasure of your company for a light supper on the 20th of November, 1963, half past seven o’clock. 1624 Magnolia Street

           Shit… shit… shit…

           I was going to have to face Dad—the very person that put me in the position I’d worked so hard to recover from the man I’d told, on repeated occasions after the disappearances and deaths of two of my brothers, that I hated him, the very last person on this earth that I needed to see after all of this.

           The gentle sands of my thoughts got swept up in the winds again, blowing them in spirals. My breath cut in and out quickly as my mind went cloudy, all my sense completely leaving me. I had to deal with this somehow, I didn’t care how…

           That’s when my eyes fell on a set of keys hanging up on the rack, taunting me with the fact they wouldn’t be allowed to remain there for much longer, regardless of whether or not we could stop the world from ending. It was an easy out, a cheap out, a stupid out; it erased everything I’d worked so hard to change.

           I didn’t care. I needed this.

           Without even attempting to stop myself, I snatched the keys and sprinted into my car, taking off along the route I’d familiarized myself with. The building was completely dark, abandoned for the night, and there were no cars parked in the lot, but what were they going to do? Arrest me? The police wouldn’t even be able to find me.

           Maybe some of that alcohol was still left in my system…

           Sneaking in through the back, I unlocked the door and stepped inside, flicking on the lights of one of the studios. It was like being welcomed back by an old friend, one I missed so dearly.

           I didn’t bother to find a record and put it on, I just went by the music in my head. I started off light, just bending myself about and kicking my legs, but as the turns and jumps came in, I began to push myself harder and harder. My mind started to fade to black as my legs and arms burned and begged me to stop, but I wouldn’t listen.

           I’d forgotten how thrilling this could be. It felt like I could go forever.        

           Until my legs suddenly gave out beneath me, and I collapsed onto the hard ground, my eyes forcing themselves shut just seconds later.

https://firewhisperer13.tumblr.com/post/631530688741507072/you-better-bring-an-umbrella-vol-2-chapter-21