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astarionenjoyer69420 · 1 year ago

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reader x astarion - "i want an heir"

hi! this is my first fanfiction ever!

summary: ascended astarion has some...desires that only you can provide for him.

warnings: dubcon/noncon, smut, breeding kink, cnc, bondage

(not my gif)

You were his. Forever. Aetherna amantis, he had claimed. Lovers forever. It almost sounded too good to be true.

You should have known it was too good to be true.

Being one of Astarion’s spawn, albeit the prized one, was not all it was cracked up to be. Sure, you had a certain degree of protection. And yes, you got to live in this fancy mansion, existing by your lover’s side both day and night. And the bite marks he had gifted you on your neck; well, they were just more reminders that you were his, entirely his, and no one could take you away from him.

But Astarion had been ascended for a few months now. You had gone from being his only one, his only prized spawn, as he had promised you, to brothers and sisters galore, traipsing up and down the halls of the palace he promised was solely for the two of you. As much as you wanted to complain, you knew your now master would never hear of it. And he would get in one of his moods.

And when Astarion got in one of his moods…you knew trouble was headed your way.

And that’s how you came to be completely helpless, arms bound to posts of his velvety bed, stark naked with the nip of chilled air the only thing covering your body, rag shoved in your mouth so you couldn’t even talk to yourself, couldn’t even make any noises besides mere vocalizations.

At least you still got some individual attention compared to the other spawn.

He had tied you up…crap, how long could it have been? Hours ago now, most certainly, or maybe that was just you getting in your own head. “Be good, darling,” he had purred, tugging your restraints so hard they dug into your flesh, after he had physically picked you up and forced you onto his bed. “I’ll be back when I’m done for the day.” But he had not said exactly when, and there were no clocks in this ancient room. So you had sat, tears welling in your eyes at the utter humiliation of it all, for what felt like an eternity. And the bastard knew you couldn’t fall asleep, either.

But there was something else. The longer you waited, the longer the pool of warmth grew between your legs, aching with anticipation for what would come next. Your thighs smushed together, desperate to indulge in any sort of stimulation, imagination running wild as to what your master had planned for you. He had never…done this before. Forced you to submit to him. You were always a good girl. But defying, you realized, had its advantages. And with every bit you wiggled and the leather dug into your wrists, the more slick you felt fountaining from between your legs.

Low noises from the hall…footsteps. Quick, light footsteps. Your heart thrummed at a breakneck pace in your chest. You would know that stride anywhere. He was back. Your cheeks grew hot, remembering how completely exposed you were, stripped of any choice in him seeing you entirely nude. And you were starting to begrudge that fire in your belly that picked up when you thought about your forced indecency.

Your lover’s footsteps grew nearer, then stopped as you discerned the sounds of a key turning in a lock. You were practically vibrating with adrenaline when he stepped in the room, swiftly sealing his door behind him, red eyes shifting to your helpless form on his bed.

You couldn’t help it; in the face of such perfection you felt almost dizzy. Power radiated through him, jagged and dark and untamable. Under his cloak, bulging muscles tugged at the fabric, and his white curls boasted perfection, as always. You were so overcome with lust you could barely speak…even if you hadn’t had a gag in your mouth. He was always the most beautiful creature you had ever laid eyes on, but the commanding swagger he exuded after he became master to you and the other spawn was, admittedly, a great look for him.

He approached your body, wisps of a smirk tugging at his perfectly plump lips. “Darling. Tsk. Look at you, still here where I put you all those hours ago.” His smirk widened, becoming overt. “Not that you had much of a choice…I mean, look at you.”

“Mmph,” you tried to respond, your inaudible reply sending a flood of humiliation to your head, and you became aware of a soft thrumming in your nether regions. God, you had no idea you were so into this, being completely and utterly helpless and so degraded, but you supposed you were just along for the ride at this point.

A pause. Thirsty eyes gazed into yours, never breaking eye contact as his overclothes were shed, and you tried (in vain) not to ogle his perfectly defined body; he had to be handcrafted by the gods themselves. You were grateful for even this tiny moment to soak him in; he was so busy nowadays.

“Darling, I have a proposition for you.”

Your eyes darted to his face, which had abruptly transformed into something more serious, more pensive. You really hoped this proposition had something to do with his mouth and a few choice body parts, although it had been mostly you servicing him like that since the ascension. “Mmph?”

He stepped closer to the bed, and he was so close you could almost (metaphorically) taste him; every inch of his flesh was perfect, and you longed to be able to touch him, to reach out and trail your fingers down his abs, caressing his marble figure, lowering your hand down to his happy trail and lower…lower…

He inhaled sharply, taking time to fully release his breath from his lungs. “Darling, it can’t be any surprise you’re my favorite of the bunch of these…creatures. You know, we genuinely had something before…all of this. It was cute, yes, cute, the way you stared at me, the flawed…thing I was before I became unstoppable. Unkillable.”

Okay, not off to the best start by calling you and the rest of the spawn creatures, but you would take it for now. Especially because he was really hot. Like, really hot. And missing him all day helped matters as well.

“And so, now to my point. I have been…thinking recently. About the future. About expanding my network, so to speak.” His brow crinkled, and he began to pace, back and forth by the foot of the bed. “And how, since you’re usually so terribly obedient, how I could honor you in some way, perhaps by making you a part of that future.”

He stopped pacing, averting his gaze to rest on you, his eye contact almost too intense to bear. “After today, I realized you couldn’t be trusted anymore to serve me. Struggling, resisting your master simply will not do. Which is why this is going to happen now, regardless of any of those pesky opinions you might have about it.” He spat the word opinions out like it was poison on his tongue, and unfortunately the growl in his voice made the heartbeat between your thighs thrum more intensely.

“I want an heir. And you’re going to carry him for me.”

Silence. Your pulse skyrocketed, feeling like a hummingbird in your chest, but your brain had not been able to process his words yet. An heir? As in, like, a child? A…pregnancy? No, no, that wasn’t possible between two vampires. Unless… “Mmph…”

“I know, darling, aren’t you just so thrilled to hear the news,” he cooed, reaching out, cool fingers cascading slowly down your cheek, every nerve in your body alight at the simple touch. “It can happen, you know. Between vampire and spawn.”

And he was by your ear, you flashing back to nights in camp right before he would bite down on you, excitement zinging through your body like a rogue boomerang. His whisper surrounded you, tickled your neck, had you crying between your thighs. “And you would look just so pretty all swollen with my child. Body completely belonging to me. That’s what you want, isn’t it?”

Logistically, you were panicking. Even if what he was saying was true, who knew if it was, that he could…get you pregnant in the first place, you had never been the maternal type. Your life as an adventurer had prohibited any thought of parenthood to ever cross your mind, and you figured you had officially forfeited that path once your heart had shuddered to a stop after your master’s ascension.

Logistically, sure, yes, bad idea. But an ever-growing part of you; one bellowing as it invaded you, sent waves of bliss through your body, moistened your inner thighs; wanted this. Wanted it bad, wanted it more than anything. You would be his, all his, a display of submission so great it physically took hold of you. None of the other spawn would have that privilege. And moment by moment, this was all looking more and more alluring. “Mmph…”

You felt yourself flush again as the vampire hopped into the bed, positioning himself so he was completely on top of you, using his two arms to balance himself, making you look at him directly in his glowing, almost ravenous eyes. Up close, it was even more unfair that he oozed perfection; unmarked skin, smelling of bergamot, rosemary and fine brandy, so tantalizing it made your head spin. Though you wanted to resist, wanted to protest, wanted to try and kick him off of you, Astarion was using the full extent of his vampiric charisma on you.

You couldn’t do anything but stare as he lowered himself to your neck, brushing gently against your collarbone at first, an involuntary moan escaping from your lips, only slightly resenting yourself for how much you would inevitably show you enjoyed this a little too much. With a low chuckle, he nipped lightly at your neck, not yet drawing blood, pain intermingling with pleasure as you knew he was marking you. He loved to do this, especially when he was in one of his moods, teasing you and working you up until you were begging him to give you pain, give you anything.

“Mmm…” you murmured as his teeth scraped your flesh, puncturing you, penetrating you, all over, as if your entire neck was his to maim. Your neck was throbbing, no doubt blooming now with marks all over, and you loved every second of it. You wanted the other spawn to know you were his, that you had the honor of being marked by him.

Your hips bucked into him, once again desperate for any kind of touch, even just one lone finger. Your wrists yanked at the restraints as your body made itself known, shame of being completely nude gone, just wanting some release.

Astarion pulled back, breathing hard, something gleaming in his eye. It wasn’t hunger, but it was close. Hunger for…something else. Something more than blood could give him. “Wear your hair back tomorrow,” he growled. “I want everyone to see what you let me do to you.”

You nodded meekly, pulsing between your legs nearly painful, being fairly certain you had soaked the sheets. Although you knew you might be punished for it, you continued to try and grind on your master, though the angle wasn’t quite right. And he knew damn well what he was preventing you from doing, splayed completely on top of you, deadening any hope of movement in your legs for the time being.

Astarion grinned. “I love it when you’re so good for me. See, it isn’t that hard, now is it?”

You shook your head, widening his smile, being only able to watch as he grabbed your breast, massaging it slowly with his hands, earning another choked moan from you as he pinched your nipple hard between two of his slender fingers. “Maybe if you were a bit more obedient this morning, you would get something of a choice in this matter.”

His other hand made its way to your other breast, squeezing tightly. “But now…cute little sluts that like getting tied up need to get taught a lesson.” Your body was on fire, the shape of his large erection now prominently pressing on your thighs, and you dripped with want- no, need. “You want to get knocked up by me so badly, hm? You fought against me so hard this morning, but you want me to own your body for nine whole months more than anything, is that right?”

Any logical thoughts you harbored had sailed away long ago. “Mmm…” you replied in affirmation, drunk on him, his scent, his scarlet eyes, the low intonation of his voice, the way you were helpless, you had no defense, he could fuck a baby inside of you with no resistance.

“Good girl,” he replied, and to your humiliation his hand trailed downward, dancing on your skin ever so slightly, goosebumps raising on your arm as he made his way between your legs, nearly casually dragging his index finger up the side of your folds. You gasped, the stimulation almost too much to bear, the bed quaking as your whole body seized with pleasure.

“Tsk, tsk,” he intoned, drawing his hand away as quickly as it had come, your clit thrumming with disappointment. “You have such a pretty little pussy, positively, delightfully soaked by me.” A low growl. A pause. Then: “Too bad I’m going to fucking ruin you for anyone else.”

Before you could think, before you could react, his hand was back on you, aggrandizing slow circles being drawn around your clit, your heartbeat so loud you could barely hear his whispering. “Have to prepare you to be bred, darling. Have to give you so much pleasure your body knows me, and only me.”

Your legs shook, warm, radiant pulses emanating through every limb in your body, every neuron welcoming his touch, his filthy words, your complete and utter submission. You were already close- fuck, how were you already close? You pressed your pussy against him, trying to ride this high, to feel his beautiful hands while they were there. You began to tremble.

As if he could read your mind, his pace quickened, stroking you with renewed firmness, pressing down on your clit directly with his thumb, making you see stars. “Greedy,” he chided, his reproach only making you want him more, climbing higher and higher toward your release, flames licking at your core. “How does it feel to be defenseless? Totally at my mercy? Subject to the whims of your master, totally and utterly mine?”

You practically yelled as your body prepared you to cum, muscles tensing, his velvet voice so close to tipping you over the edge.

Then, he stopped.

Stopped point-blank, withdrawing his hands, sitting up, your body humming with broken promises, with betrayal. With wide eyes, you stared at his godly figure, silently beseeching him for an answer, for him to keep touching you, for…anything. You were a sopping mess, a puddle, your clitoris swollen with need. Tears sprung forward, much to your embarrassment. This wasn’t fair. You needed him.

You had apparently become upset presumptuously, because your lover had taken you to the edge and then ceased because he wanted to give you the proper treatment. This became obvious as the clothes on the lower half of his body were shed, you unabashedly reveling in the show, a huge, thick pale cock springing forward from his pants as they crumpled to the floor.

You always wondered how you could take him. Conservatively, he must have been eight inches, and you could barely wrap a hand around his girth. It had taken your breath away the first time you had seen it, one of your sweeter sexual meetups, a drunken encounter after a party, what seemed like ages ago now. It was sweet, him taking the lead, servicing you over and over again being the main event, him whimpering with carnal lust every time you so much as brushed against his length. But sweetness had been gone from your bedroom for a while now. Not that you minded so much. This…was also nice. Your mouth began to salivate staring at his perfect cock, wanting in equal measure for him to be inside of you and to taste him.

Unfortunately, your master knew you too well, unabashed smarminess plain as day across his face after catching you ogling. He threw his head back to laugh; something you had never heard addressed to you before a few months ago, sadistic and mocking. “My little pet is so terribly desperate for this cock, isn’t that right, darling?” As you moaned your confirmation, he pushed your legs apart, the chill of the castle room whispering on your wet pussy, him smiling as he did so. In fact, he almost looked positively giddy to have you here, with no one to aid you. “Be a good little fuckdoll and take it, hm?”

You weren’t thinking about logistics anymore. You weren’t thinking about whether what he wanted was possible in the first place. All you knew, all you could register, all you could feel, was your body being folded in half, your legs nearly touching your shoulders, and your lover’s strikingly beautiful form above you, like a siren, like original sin himself.

“Let’s cut the pretense, darling,” he purred, and you could feel him line himself up with your core, your body reading yourself for him, the tip of his cock dancing among your slick folds, your body writhing and spasming with need. “I’m not going to be gentle, nor must I be to give you my most precious gift, my son. You’re going to be stuffed full of my seed by the time I’m done with you, and you’re going to absolutely adore it. Understood?”

Astarion thrust forward, snapping into you, giving you no time to respond, no time to adjust to his length. A cry escaped your lips, muffled by your makeshift gag; it felt like you were being torn in two, your pussy burning with the stretch of his width inside you, hitting your cervix, the pinch making your recoil. He began ravaging you, hips snapping back and forth, tears now streaming down your face and onto the silk pillows. He had never fucked you this brutally before, pain quickly ebbing into ecstasy as you clenched around his girth, so perfectly full of him.

Your master groaned, low and deep in his throat, eyes fluttering closed. His tough facade was crumbling, desire unmasked at last. “Always…always so fucking tight for me,” he panted, grabbing your chin, ruby eyes captivating yours as he pummeled you. He was a sight to behold, mouth ajar as he drew in breath, fangs glistening in the candlelight, smoldering gaze on your face. “G-gods above.”

The sound of your lover pumping inside of you permeated the stone room as if it were a heartbeat. Your mind spun, unable to focus on anything but the sensation of his cock impaling you, whimpering as he shifted his angle oh-so-slightly and hit your most sensitive spot. He knew how bad you wanted to be put in your place, the way his length dripped with your moisture revealing it, no perception checks necessary.

“That’s right, darling,” Astarion cooed, recovered from the dominant edge slipping during his entrance, hips bucking faster within you, hammering your sweet spot. Dark spots danced at the edges of your vision. “Tell me, who’s my good little slut?”

Moaning through your gag, your walls eagerly clenched hard around him, feeling as if you were floating through the small pinches in your cervix as he thrust. It was you, you knew it was you, he knew it was you. You were his, mind, body, and soul. You couldn’t put any coherent thoughts together, and all you knew is that you wanted him as deep as he could go.

He took you like that for a while, until you could feel your release approaching once again, the rhythm of Astarion inside of you so intense now you could barely breathe. Your fingernails dug into his back, earning a sharp hiss from the vampire, who in turn finally tore his eyes away from you to sink his fangs into your neck. Gasping at the sudden ache blossoming through your throat, you lost control. A wave of bliss tumbled through your body as you screamed, your orgasm ripping through you like a trail of fire. Astarion fucked you through it, every thrust to your overstimulated core making you see stars as you felt your blood slip further through his porcelain lips.

As your climax receded, your vampire drew back, mouth and chin smeared bright crimson. You recalled the first time you had let him feed on you, the night you found out he was a vampire; he was careful, and he knew not to take so much. His face was softer then, a blush of gratitude touching his dialogue. Memories of that first night seemed so far now as you examined the beast before you, all sharp angles and lust.

“Well, isn’t this just perfect,” he sighed. “Thank god you’re so enamored with me. Conceiving is so much easier this way.”

And he began again, thrusting even harder than before.

You could barely take it, the sensation of his cock burrowing even deeper inside of you, and you became conscious of embarrassingly inhuman noises you were eking out. Astarion gripped your chin, forcing eye contact as he continued to ravage you, minute beads of sweat trailing down his ivory face. Fingers dug into your face as you gazed into the vampire’s eyes, their shade of scarlet deeper than ever, unable to think about anything but his steely regard, futilely attempting to choke out his name. Smirking at your failed attempt, of course he was. He always made you feel so good, and unfortunately, he knew it.

“Fantastic,” he cooed. “That’s my good fucking girl. You like this, don’t you? To be nothing but a toy for me. To be completely and totally vulnerable…” He hammered into you harder, your entire body nothing but a vessel centered around him, your sex practically chanting his name. His words sent pure shock to your core; resistance was futile and the new gush of wetness between your thighs proved it. Liking it was certainly inside the realm of possibility. Adoring it was far more likely.

The bed groaned beneath your entangled forms, and your lover leaned in toward you, teeth grazing the top of your ear. “I’m close, my sweet.” And you felt yourself clenching around him much more, body thrumming with the promise of your shared release.

With a grunt, Astarion dropped his face to ensnare you in a kiss as his warmth flooded into you, thrusting sporadically as he filled you to the brim. “Fuck,” he breathed as he forced himself deeper into you, taking care that none of his seed leaked from your eager hole. “Good girl, take all of it.”

He grabbed your thighs, forcing your bottom half upwards, cum dripping further down into you, the angle change hammering you right in your most sensitive spot. You cried out as your release hit you like a freight train, muscles melting and becoming liquid, Astarion’s slow deep thrusts prolonging your nirvana. Ripples of adrenaline rushed through you as you felt his release pool in you, knowing undoubtedly that his rough breeding had worked. He decreased his speed until he was at a stop, your legs feeling awfully similar to jelly, as you basked in a combination of afterglow and shock at what had transpired.

You stayed interlocked and still for a few minutes, your master’s breathing even and heavy, explaining in a whisper that he had to make sure the process was successful. You felt each beat of your heart in your chest, and if you had the privilege of language at the moment, you would have reassured him that your body was most certainly going to house his child. Eventually, he unsheathed himself, letting your hips back down to the four-poster bed, and you watched his statuesque form stand and begin to clean himself. After he had finished, with a smirk he made his way over to you and gently wiped your thighs of his release.

You could do nothing but watch as he began to dress himself back into the armor he had previously worn, silently wondering if you were going to be let free.

Astarion didn’t even turn around as he spoke to you. “My pet, I think it only fair you remain in this bedroom for as long as it takes to successfully knock you up. I want you nice and helpless against me until I know for certain you’re too dependent on me to go anywhere. Shall we repeat this process…I don’t know…twice a day?”

Twice a day. For as long as it took until he could tell you were pregnant. Verbalizations strained against your gag, but you were completely ignored as Astarion walked out of the room, sealing and locking the door shut behind him.

Pregnancy symptoms could take a hell of a long time to show up. And maybe, even when they did…you could conceal them for a while.

If it meant being used like this again, you would have done nearly anything.

#astarion x reader #astarion fanfic #astarion fanfiction #astarion x female tav #astarion #astarion my beloved #bg3 #bg3 astarion #astarion smut

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xgryffinwhore · 13 days ago

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Study break

Summary: Johnny and his girlfriend take a break form studying to go out to eat, but it turns into something else.

Warnings: Smut, swearing, angst, mentions of violence

Word Count: 7.8k

The afternoon sun cast a warm glow through the windows of Johnny step dad, Sid’s house, lighting up the group scattered across the living room. Textbooks, notebooks, and snack wrappers were spread out around them as they attempted to cram for the upcoming biology exam. The focus had been strong at first, but as the minutes wore on, everyone’s attention started to wane.

Johnny Lawrence sat on the floor beside her, a biology textbook open in his lap, though he barely glanced at it. Every few moments, his gaze drifted to her, a soft smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. They had been dating for a few months now, but he still looked at her as if he couldn’t quite believe his luck.

Her friend groaned from the couch, tossing her pen aside in frustration. “Alright, seriously, does anyone understand photosynthesis?” she asked, looking around the room for help.

Johnny rolled his eyes, nudging her knee with his. “I don’t get why plants have to be so complicated,” he said with a grin, leaning closer to her as his voice softened. “You’re the smart one here—think you could explain it to me, or is my brain a lost cause?”

He slipped his hand over hers, his thumb tracing light circles against her skin. “Or,” he added in a low, conspiratorial tone, “maybe we could ditch this study session, sneak out, and grab a burger. My treat.”

He looked at her, his blue eyes full of mischief and warmth, that familiar boyish charm in his smile. It was clear that, even surrounded by friends and endless biology notes, he only had eyes for her

She blushed at his offer, it definitely wasn't rational, they're biology exam was at the end of the week. But she could hardly resist his lopsided smile, he really used his charasma to his advantage.

"That doesn't sound terrible right now" she said quietly.

He squeezed her hand gently, his thumb continuing to trace lazy circles on her skin as he leaned in closer, his voice a low whisper that only she could hear. “You sure?” he teased, already feeling the excitement building between them. “You *never* skip studying.”

She knows he's right, she's a little *too* academically responsible. Johnny awoke something in here that made her want to live on the edge, even if the edge was the diner. She whispered back to him, "I think I can make an exception."

“You won’t regret it,” he responded, giving her hand one last gentle squeeze before pulling back. He looked up to the group on the couch, clearing his throat loudly to draw their attention. “Hey, we’re gonna head out for a bit.”

Jimmy looked up from his notes, smirking at the couple "You sure you don't want to stick around for cell functions?" he teased.

Johnny shot him a mocking glance, rolling his eyes. “Yeah, no thanks,” he said, making a show of closing his textbook. “If I have to hear the word *mitochondria* one more time, my brain might actually explode.”

They make their way out to Johnny's firebird, he opens the door for her as she gets in. The loud roar of his engine booming through the neighborhood. "So where are you thinking? The diner?" she asks.

"You know me too well," he replied, jamming the keys into the ignition and revving the engine enthusiastically. "Dinner it is."

He pulled out of the driveway and into the street, feeling the familiar rush of adrenaline as the car picked up speed. The late afternoon sun cast a warm glow over the neighborhood, but he barely noticed it—his focus was firmly on the road ahead and the girl beside him.

As they pulled up to the diner, Johnny got out and opened the door for her. He held the small of her back as they walked toward the restaurant, she lingered on his touch. They slide into the booth, the vinyl seats creaking softly beneath their weight. Johnny reached across the table and took her hand in his, a warm smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

He had been itching to get some alone time with her all day, and now that they were finally out and away from their friends, he wasn't going to waste a single moment.

"I swear," he said, his thumb tracing small circles over the back of her hand, "I was losing my mind back there. I can only study biology for so long before I feel my brain cells start dying."

She laughed at his phrase, his little dumb blonde moments rising to meet the surface. "Isn't learning like- the opposite of your brain cells dying? They make new connections when you study, you know that right?" She chuckles at him, looking over the menu.

Johnny chuckled along with her, squeezing her hand gently. "Yeah, yeah," he said with a mock eye roll. "I know, I know. Learning is good for your brain or whatever. But you gotta admit, there's a limit to how much biology a guy can take in one day."

He leaned back against the booth, a mischievous smirk on his lips. "Besides, we both know I'm much better at other things than studying."

"Johnny, shut up" She jokes, a blush spreading across her face. She sets down the menu after she's made her decision. The waiter comes over to take food orders.

Johnny chuckled again at her blush, pride swelling within him as he saw the way her cheeks tinted pink. He was the only one who could make her flustered so easily, and he loved it.

As the waiter approached and he gave his order, he made sure to keep his hand in hers, their fingers intertwined on top of the table. Once the waiter left, he leaned forward, his eyes sparkling with affection as he looked at her. "You're cute when you blush, you know that?"

She darts her tongue out at him playfully, too shy to say much else. She'd always been that way, promiscuous topics making her sheepish. She loved how different they were from each other, it made their chemistry more roused.

He could practically see the shyness radiating off of her, and he knew exactly how to push her buttons to make her more flustered.

With a devilish sparkle in his eyes, he leaned forward even further, closing the distance between them. "You know," he said in a low, teasing tone, "there are plenty of other things I'd like to see that tongue do instead of just sticking it at me."

She gave his hand a warning squeeze, she loathed how he loved to toy with her in public. "We're in a restaurant you know, people all around us" she cautioned him.

Johnny continued to lean closer. "So?" he teased, his voice still low and suggestive. "We're in a booth in the back—they're not paying attention to us."

His gaze flicked around the room, taking in the other diners. Sure enough, they were either absorbed in their own conversations or focused on their food. He turned his attention back to her, a cocky smirk on his lips. "Nobody's gonna care if I flirt with my girlfriend."

"You're trying to kill me" she giggles, he had always been so direct. That's another reason she loved Johnny, he was bold.

His thumb traced over her lips, his touch light but deliberate. "You know I can't help it," he murmured, his voice still holding that edge of mischief. "You're just so damn cute when you're blushing. I gotta have my fun."

The love they shared was so pure, well for most of it, she couldn't help but give him a crooked smile back. "Anyway" She says, hoping to get the heat off of herself "We still have lots of studying to do, so we better make this quick."

Johnny gave her cheek a final, affectionate caress before reluctantly pulling his hand away, a small pout on his lips. "Alright, fine," he conceded, feigning a sigh of acceptance. "I guess I can behave myself for a while."

He leaned back in his seat, unraveling his silverware with impatience. "Let's hope the food comes quickly, though. I don’t know how much longer I can keep my hands off you."

The food comes out a few moments later, it looks utterly delicious. Something about greasy diner food always makes you want to come back for more. She takes a bite of her fries and closes her eyes entranced with the salty relief. "Thank god, i'm starving" she sighed.

He picked up his burger and took a large bite, relishing the greasy, meaty taste. "Same here," he mumbled through a mouthful of food, his words muffled. "I was starving for more than just food, but this works too."

She rolled her eyes, he never stops.

Johnny chuckled, his eyes sparkling with mischief as she caught onto his double entendre. "What? I can't help it," he said, his voice laced with innocence. He took another bite of his burger, grinning. "You make me hungry, and not just for food."

Her faulter fake annoyance. They continue to eat, clearing their plates and sitting back completely full. "I'll be right back, I'm gonna use the bathroom before we leave, okay?" She stands up, walking to the restroom.

Johnny watches as she gets up from the booth and heads towards the restroom. He nods in acknowledgment, his eyes following her path until she disappears behind the door. He stretches his arms above his head, the diner food sitting comfortably in his stomach as he waits for her to return.

As she finishes using the bathroom and comes out, the waiter stops her outside of the bathroom entrance. He looked around their age, probably went to North Valley. "So, what a guy like me gotta do to get your number?" he asks, a menacing smile forming across his lips.

His question hit her like a ton of bricks, surprising her. Normally no one dared to approach her like this, but here he was.

"Oh," she said, her voice soft as she paused for a moment. "I'm sorry, I’m actually see—"

The words caught in her throat as his smile turned menacing, a shiver running down her spine.

"Already have a boyfriend," she finished weakly, her eyes darting around the diner. Johnny was still sitting in the booth, happily oblivious to the interaction by the bathroom.

He nodded, seeming unphased by that information. She went to sit back down, fumbling with her hands nervously, Johnny can't know, if he does, he'll flip. She collected herself and sat down, smiling sweetly at her boyfriend.

Johnny looked up as she slid back into the booth across from him, a small smile on his face. Her smile seemed forced, and her hands were fidgeting nervously in her lap.

His smile faded slightly, replaced with a hint of concern. "You okay?" he asked, his voice soft and laced with worry.

She wouldn't let him know, he'd probably damn near kill the guy. He had a real bad temper, the type that he took out in karate, or it got him in trouble. "Yeah baby, everything's alright" she chirped.

A few moments later, the waiter came by with the check, and a side of a sly smile. "Here's the bill, oh and if you change your mind" he leans in a little closer to her "My numbers on the back of the receipt." He winks, walking away. Her eyes bolt to Johnnys, she's praying he doesn't snap, not here, not now.

She gulps, this can not be good. "Johnny wait, I can explain"

Johnny's eyes darkened as he scanned the back of the receipt, finding the waiter's number scribbled on there. He slammed the check down on the table with a thud, his jaw clenching.

"Explain what?" he said through gritted teeth. "Why some guy is handing you his number and winking to you?"

Johnny sat up straighter in his seat, his body tense and coiled. He knew she'd told the guy she had a boyfriend. He trusted her. But the sight of the waiter's number and that damned wink... It unleashed something primal within him.

"I told him I have a boyfriend!" she defended. But she knows Johnny, she's seen him beat guys to a pulp for much less.

"I know you did," he said through clenched teeth. "But that didn't stop him, did it? And you didn't tell me about it either."

"It just happened, I didn't want you to be upset Johnny" she reaches over and rubs his knuckle, its white from his grip on the table. She can tell he's trying hard to hold back.

Her touch on his knuckle was soothing, but it was like trying to cool down a raging wildfire with a squirt gun. His grip on the table loosen slightly, but his anger still simmered just below the surface.

"I'm already upset," he muttered, his voice low and tight. "But not at you."

He looked down at the check again, that number mocking him like a taunt.

"Just please don't do anything irrational" She begged, she knew he was beyond saving but she hoped her words would somehow get through to him.

Her pleading words fell on deaf ears, her attempt to calm him only fueling the storm within him. The fire in his eyes flared as he clenched his fists, the rage coursing through his veins.

"Don't do anything irrational?" he repeated, his voice barely containing the dangerous edge. "That ship already sailed, doll."

He rose from his seat abruptly, his body tense like a spring coiled tight.

"Johnny!" she pleads, people from other tables turning their heads to watch the comotion. She can't believe that this is happening again, his hot head making him do things that he couldn't take back.

He zeroed in on the waiter as he moved across the diner, his jaw clenched tight. He could see the waiter's cocky grin from here, a target for all his pent-up frustration and anger.

"Hey, punk" he spat.

The waiter looked up, startled as Johnny approached him with menacing steps. He swallowed, a flash of fear crossing his eyes.

"Y-yeah?" he replied nervously, his bravado vanishing under Johnny's intense gaze.

"You got a lot of nerve, handin' my girl your number like that."

Johnny's voice was cold, his eyes narrowing as he loomed over the waiter, practically daring him to speak.

The waiter seemed to shrink under Johnny's glare, all his earlier confidence gone. He opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out.

Johnny continued, his voice like a razor's edge. "You thought she would be interested in you, huh? Thought you had a shot?"

The waiter found his voice again, although it trembled slightly under the weight of Johnny's anger.

"I-I didn't think—"

But Johnny cut him off with a sharp gesture. "You didn't think, period, dumbass."

The other diners in the diner grew quiet, the usually bustling atmosphere now replaced with an eerie silence as they watched the confrontation unfold.

Johnny leaned in closer to the waiter, his tone dropping into a menacing whisper. "You ever try that again, you'll look at her again, and you'll be picking your teeth up off the floor. Got it?"

She couldn't handle watching this anymore, she prayed for the waiter's sake that he didn't talk back. She rushed outside, her heart rate picking up, hoping he was only a few steps behind her and not a few inches into this guy's face.

Johnny's gaze remained locked on the waiter for a moment longer, the threat hanging heavy in the air. It took every ounce of restraint to stop himself from acting on his anger right there.

Finally, he turned away from the waiter, his eyes scanning the tables for her. He saw her slip outside, and he pushed through the exit after her, the door slamming shut behind him.

"Why'd you run off like that?" he demanded, his voice gruff.

"Dammit Johnny" she cursed, turning around at him with rage. "Do you always have to cause a scene like that?"

"Hey, watch the tone."

Johnny bristled at her anger, his irritation rising in response. "That jack-ass needed to be taught a lesson. I was just making sure he wouldn’t bother you ever again."

She shakes her head with bitterness, a resentful smirk on her lips "Well it's not like we can ever go back there again, after the shit you just pulled."

He took a step closer to her, his expression dark. "What about that guy giving you his number? You weren't worried about that?"

"It's not like I was going to take it Johnny, Jesus," she huffs, storming to his car.

Johnny followed her to his car, his anger notching up a level with her tone. He stalked after her, his steps fast and purposeful.

"I know you wouldn't take it," he said, his voice tight. "But it's the fact that he thought he had a chance that pisses me off."

She opens the passenger door, aggravated with his stubbornness. "Well we both know he didn't, and that should be all that matters" she says quietly, stepping into his car.

He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. He knew he hadn't handled the situation the best he could, but the idea of her dealing with another guy hitting on her made his blood boil.

He got into the driver's seat, slamming the door shut. "Yeah, I know that," he muttered begrudgingly.

She crossed her arms, facing the window. She loved him, she really did, but it was so hard with him always getting into these altercations. His temper always got the better of him.

Johnny started the car, the engine roaring to life. The tension between them was palpable, a suffocating silence taking over.

He gripped the steering wheel tightly, the veins in his arms standing out as he drove. He glances over at her, her body turned away from him, her arms crossed defensively.

"You're pissed at me," he stated, his voice low.

Her gaze stayed out the window, she knew if she looked at him she would soften. That's how it was, he did something dumb, she looked at him for too long, and all of her defenses came crashing down. "Yeah, I am."

Johnny clenched his jaw, her words like a punch to his gut. Her unwillingness to look at him only added insult to injury.

He let out a heavy sigh, his anger mixing with guilt. "I just... I can't stand seeing other guys looking at you like that. It drives me nuts."

His words made her weak in the knees, she secretly loves it when he gets all jealous, when he wants to be the only boy in her world. She finds her voice "Lots of things to do."

His grip on the steering wheel tightened as he tried to keep his emotions in check. "Don't start," he warned, his voice a low rumble.

"*I* did not start anything Johnny" she said his name like it was a cuss.

His jaw clenched tight, the way she said his name making him want to simultaneously strangle her and kiss her senseless.

He kept his gaze focused on the road, the car's engine rumbling as he pressed down on the gas pedal a little harder than necessary.

"You're pushing it, doll," he ground out, his voice tight.

A scorn breath leaves her lips, she doesn't know how she's going to go back and study when he's acting erratic like this. Like he always does.

He pulls off the road, they can't go back in this state.

"Just... can you just—" he cut himself off, swallowing his words. He took a deep breath, his jaw clenching again. "Just stop for a minute, and look at me."

She slowly turned to meet his gaze, still keeping her distance as her arms stayed glued on top of each other.

His eyes lock on hers, his chest tightening at the sight of her. Every fiber in his being is screaming to reach out and pull her closer, but her arms crossed and the look in her eyes are keeping him at bay.

He runs a hand through his hair, his voice tight. "I just... I can't stand the thought of another guy looking at you the way I do, okay?"

"I know, Johnny" She sighs softly, the wall she built slowly falling over. Damn him for those gorgeous eyes.

She reaches out and rubs his shoulder, trying to offer some foundation for his feelings. Sure, he was a little crazy, but it all came from a good place.

He lets out a low growl, his body twitching involuntarily under her touch. "You're not helping," he mutters, his voice hoarse.

She flinches back her hand, not willing to be a victim of his crossfire "Sorry.."

"No, you don't —" he says, cutting himself off. He takes a hand through his hair, frustration and desire warring in his chest. "No, don't apologize. Just... come here."

She unbuckles, sliding across the connected seat (the 80s, right?) to sit on his lap. She straddles either side of his legs, stroking his blonde locks to put some ease to the fire that burned within Johnny.

His breath hitches as she settles on his lap, the weight of her body on his making desire flare through him like a bolt of lightning.

He lets out a low, approving hum when she starts to touch his hair, his tense muscles loosening almost immediately. He lets his hands come to rest on her hips, his fingers clenching against the fabric of her skirt.

As he starts to relax under her touch, she admires the way his features soften. Only then, does she really start to see the power she holds over him. He might act like he is in the driver's seat, but she knows now she's the one pressing the gas.

She lines his features lightly with one hand, and caresses his hair with the other.

Every touch from her is like a match to his already burning desire. He lets out a soft, almost pained groan as she explores his features with her gentle hands. He feels like he’s falling apart beneath her touch in the best kind of way.

He leans into her grasp, his eyes fluttering shut as her fingers glide through his hair. He tightens his grip on her hips, pulling her a little closer on his lap.

"Feeling a little more calm now?" she quizzes, lining his jaw with her index finger.

He nods slightly, his body responding to her touch like it always does. He lets out a shaky breath as she continues to caress his face.

"Yeah, doll," he mutters, his voice thick with desire. "You're pretty damn good at calming me down, I'll give you that."

She chuckles at his attitude. "Well, good" she whispers as she kisses him on the cheek.

He tilts his head to capture her mouth in a hot, desperate kiss.

His hands slide up from her hips, up her sides and around to her back to pull her closer still, the need for her building to the point of aching.

Her hands moved to his shoulders as she deepened the kiss, a kiss they both needed after all of that.

He groans into the kiss, his tongue tracing the seam of her lips, seeking entrance. He wraps his arms around her, pulling her tight against his chest.

He nips at her bottom lip, his hands moving lower to grip her hips again, his fingers digging, almost possessively.

She breaks the kiss, "We have to get back to the study group" she says breathlessly, her lips plump from assault.

"Study group can wait," he mutters. He leans down to press a kiss to the hollow of her throat, his lips and tongue working against her skin.

She gasps at the contact, his lips felt sinful going down the thin skin of her neck. It was insane how easily he made her forget about everything else with just his tongue.

His lips roam down her neck, nipping, kissing and sucking as they go, marking her flesh with his mouth.

His hands slide up her body just enough to slide under her shirt, his fingers tracing the warm expanse of her bare skin.

A gasp escaped her lips as she felt his fingers travel, her hips rock involuntarily against him. He knew how to get her all hot and bothered, her thoughts of him and only him.

He lets out a low groan at the feeling of her hips rocking against him, the friction driving him wild. He nips at the sensitive spot under her ear, his teeth grazing against her skin.

His hands continue to roam her body, his touch almost reverent as they caress her soft flesh. He wishes that guy from the diner were here to see this, to show him that she belonged to Johnny, and never anyone else.

She leans back, providing him with more access as her eyes screweed shut in gratification. Her skirt rides up as she presses herself against the steering wheel.

He takes full advantage of the new space, his mouth moving lower, nipping and sucking at her collarbone and the sensitive spot at her neck. His hands slide back down her body to the hem of her skirt, his fingers dipping underneath to run along the smooth skin of her thighs.

Her body quakes at his touch, her thighs begging for him, needing him. She parts her legs even further, completely driven by desire. She can't fully grasp the effect he has on her, but she knows it's more than anyone else ever could or will.

His fingers trace the edge of her panties, teasing, taunting. “Mmm, you want something, doll?” he murmurs against her skin, his voice low and dangerous.

Her head nods feverishly as she pulls her skirt up so it sits around her waist. She's desperate for some relief.

His breath hitches at the sight of her skirt around her waist, her hips rocking against him again. He swears under his breath, his own need for her building to almost painful heights.

He moves one hand from her thigh, bringing it up to her stomach. He dips his fingers under the edge of her panties, his touch light as he teases her aching flesh. “You’re begging for it aren’t you, doll?” he purrs against her ear.

Her body trembles, he is really teasing her today, but she can't put up a fight. "Johnny please" she whimpers, desperation lacing her voice.

His chest tightens at the sound of her whimper, her begging him almost undoing him. He can’t resist her, not when she’s like this.

He moves his fingers lower, seeking the spot he knows will make her fall apart. “You want me to make you feel good, doll?” he whispers, his breath hot against her skin.

"More than anything, Johnny" she pleads, the tension building in her increasing rapidly.

He lets out a low growl, her pleading making something primal flare up within him. He slips his fingers further down, finding the sweet spot that he knew would drive her wild.

His long fingers plunging in and out of her heat, his movements slow and deliberate, wanting to draw out her pleasure as long as he can. “You’re so sensitive, doll,” he murmurs in her ear.

She lets out a soft moan, it overpowers the sound of the thunderbirds engine. His words work to undo her almost as good as his fingers are.

His fingers move a little harder, a little faster. “You sound so good, doll,” he whispers, his voice low and rough. “I could listen to those little sounds you make all damn day.”

"Please dont stop.. dont stop talking" she groans, lost in her own pleasure. Normally, she would have a fit doing this on the side of the road, but with him hitting that spot right against her walls, she didn't really give a damn.

He can’t help but let out a low chuckle at her plea, the sound of her begging him music to his ears. He has her at his mercy, and we're enjoying every second of it.

"You like my voice, doll?" Johnny murmurs against her ear, his mouth brushing her skin. "You like it when I talk to you like this?"

His fingers maintain their pace, keeping her on the edge, his thumb adding just a hint of extra pressure.

"God yes, Johnny" she moans like a prayer. His fingers driving her to the brink, but she's aching for more of him. Every inch of him.

He slows his pace just slightly, his fingers swirling and flicking against her sensitive flesh. "You want more dolls?" Johnny murmurs, his voice rough with desire. "You want more of me?"

"Yes" she accords, her hands flying to release him from his jeans. Her small hands unzip his pants, shaking from the pleasure only Johnny can provide.

The feeling of her small hands on him, freeing him from his jeans makes him groan low in throat. Her skin against his is like fire, his body responding to her touch with a fierce intensity.

He moves his fingers back down, his calloused touch teasing her in slow, steady circles. He wants her, wants to be inside her, but he won't give in yet. "Is this what you want, doll?" Johnny's voice is rough and heavy.

"Please, oh my god, please" she begs, pulling him out of his briefs. Her eyes gush as she sees how aroused he is from pleasing her.

Seeing her gaze on him, her eyes wide and her lips parted just so, drives him wild. He's ready to throw her in the backseat and take her right there, but he holds back just long enough to take in the sight of her.

He moans at her words, her begging almost sending him over the edge. He groans her name, his voice thick with desire. "You want me, doll," Johnny purrs. "You need me, don't you?"

She begins to stroke him, trying to halt his teasing. "I need you, now."

He groans at her hands, pleasing him, his desire overcoming his arrogance.

Her words and her touch have the desired effect, her hands driving him wild. He can't hold back anymore, he needs her too badly.

He lets out a low growl, his body tight with need. Johnny grabs her hips and lifts her up, moving her to a more comfortable position straddling his lap. "Tell me you're mine," he mutters, his voice hot and possessive.

She sinks down on him, taking in a harsh breath as she feels her brain go fuzzy from the pressure. "I'm yours Johnny" she gasps, taking him fully.

The feeling of her around him makes him groan, the sensation overwhelming. He grips her hips tightly, anchoring her in place as he takes a moment to regain some composure.

He looks up at her, his eyes dark with desire. "Mine," he growls, repeating the word like a declaration. He snaps his hips into her, a scream shoots from her lips.

The feeling of him coming and going with each bounce of her hips, she can barely take him.

Johnny can feel himself getting closer with each buck of her hips, her body like a vice around him. "You're mine," he mutters, the words rough against her skin. "You belong to me, don't you?”

"I belong to you, Johnny" she cries, her core tightening as she gets close to her demise. The feeling of him that she never gets used to, that she craves and needs, it's the same every time. Always so good.

He loves hearing her say it, the fact that she belongs to him sears through his brain like a branding iron. He takes possession of her mouth, his tongue claiming hers in a hot and desperate kiss.

He can feel himself getting closer, his body on the edge of release. "You're so good," he growls against her mouth, his voice ragged. "So goddamn good."

She returns the kiss 10 fold, a sloppy, sexy, erotic lock of lips. She rides Johnny faster, trying to bring him to where she's about to be. "Johnny.. I'm gonna.."

He moans into the kiss, his body responding to her movements with an intensity he can hardly control. Johnny can feel his own release building, his body thrumming like a live wire.

He nips at her bottom lip, his own breath coming in ragged gasps. "Come for me, doll," he mutters against her mouth, his thumb moving to her clit to make her combust.

She lets out a shriek, Johnny's name, and curses falling from her lips as she rides out her high, her body feels like it's on fire. The waves of ecstacy travel from her head to her toes.

Johnny's wild beneath her, the feeling of her convulsing and wrapping around him pushes him to the edge. Her body against his is like a flame, his mind a dizzy mix of pleasure and desire. Johnny grips her hips tightly, his hands almost digging into her skin as he helps guide her movements. "Doll, I can't last.." he mutters, his voice rough and uneven.

Her breath ragged, still coming down from her high, but still riding him like there's no tomorrow. "Come Johnny, just come in me.." she whimpers.

He's hanging on by a thread, his muscles tense and straining. "You want it, doll? You want me to fill you up?"

"Fill me up baby, fill me with your come" she begs, eager to please him just as he did her.

The sound of her begging pushes him over the edge, his brain exploding like a grenade, his body erupting with pleasure. Johnny tightens his grip on her hips as he releases thick ropes to come deep within her. He's lost in the feeling of his release, Johnny's body bucking and shuddering beneath her. He comes buried deep inside her, her name coming from his lips. "Fuck," he gasps out.

He's breathing hard, his body spent and sated, his mind still spinning with pleasure. He holds her tightly to him, burying his face in her neck, his breath hot and rasping against her skin.

She holds Johnny close, feeling his liquid drip out of her and back onto him. She breathes deeply in bliss.

The sticky mess between them is a reminder of what they just shared. He runs his hand down her back, his touch gentle and affectionate.

"Fuck, doll.." Johnny breathes. "You're gonna kill me one day, y'know that?"

"Let's hope not" she giggles, holding his sandy hair and taking in the scent.

"I'm a serious doll," he mutters, his voice muffled against her skin. "One of these days, you're gonna finish me off for good."

She giggles at his dramatics, another thing she loved about him. They relished in the moment for a few minutes, catching their breath. She slowly got off of him, fixing her shirt and skirt, trying to appear as if they weren't doing what they were just doing.

He tucks himself back into his jeans, zipping them up. He leans back against the seat, Johnny's eyes roaming over her body, still taking in the sight of her.

"We should probably head back," he reasons. "They're gonna start wondering where we are."

She grimaces about having to go back and study "Yeah, we've been gone for too long.. hopefully they won't give us shit for it" she laughs, knowing fully well their friends will.

Johnny chuckles slowly, knowing full well that they're gonna get teased for being gone so long.

"I'd be surprised if they didn't give us hell for it," he mutters, a slight grin on his lips. "Especially Dutch."

Her eyes roll, knowing he is right "Well," she huffs "better face the lions sooner than later."

Johnny lets out a long sigh, his body still a little sluggish from their activities. He knows she's right, but he's in no hurry to go back to studying.

"Fine," he grumbles, his hand still on her knee. "But just so you know, I'm gonna be thinking about this all throughout the study group."

She smirks as he begins to drive off.

As he pulls back onto the road, he can't help but steal a few glances over at her. The memory of what they just did is still fresh in his mind. He can't focus on anything else, his body still humming with leftover pleasure.

They pull up back to Johnny's step fathers house, reluctantly getting out and going back inside.

Johnny leads the way inside, his hand on the small of her back. As soon as they enter, they're met with the rest of the group, all of them throwing teasing looks and quipping their way.

"Well, look who decided to join us," Dutch quips, his eyebrows raised knowingly.

"Yeah, how was your food?" Her friend questions them, fully knowing.

Johnny rolls his eyes, a slight smirk on his lips. He knows they all know what they were up to, and he doesn't really care.

"Food was delicious," he replies, a hint of sarcasm in his voice. "But we got hungry after, so we had some dessert." He lets his eyes slide over to her, a subtle reminder of what he's referring to.

Her face turned bright red, his audacity was applaudable. The whole group gives knowing giggles and glances. "Subtle Johnny, real subtle" she groans, sitting back down.

Johnny grins widely, his eyes gleaming with mischief. He knows he's being blatantly obvious, and he doesn't care. He's not ashamed of what they just did, and he definitely doesn't mind rubbing it in the rest of the group's faces.

"What can I say? I'm a subtle guy," he quips, his smirk still in place. "You know me doll."

Dutch chuckles at Johnny's attitude, shaking his head. "Yeah, as subtle as a brick to the head," he remarks. "You're lucky we didn't go over much while you two where on your *break*."

Johnny's smirk only widens at Dutch's jab. "Yeah, I'm sure we would've been heartbroken if we missed some of your valuable input, Dutch." His tone is playful, but there's an edge of snark to it.

"Hey, my input is very valuable," Dutch protests. "I'm full of wisdom."

Johnny snorts. "Yeah, that's one word for it. 'Full of it' is more like it."

She laughs at the group's banter back in full swing, like they never left. She picks up her notebook, beginning to look over her notes again. "Okay guys, so where did you make it to?"

The rest of the group quiets down, shifting back into "study mode." They continue discussing the notes and materials, delving into the subject.

Johnny does his best to focus, but his mind has other ideas. He can't help but glance over at her, his eyes straying to her lips, remembering the way she tasted. His mind wanders, his thoughts far from academics.

She glances over at him, seeing that dark look in his eyes. "Focus Johnny, you had a break, it's time to get back to studying" she says with a mix of stern and playfulness.

"Yeah, yeah, Doll," he grumbles, "I'm focused." But his eyes are still roaming over her, the memories from their little "break" still fresh in his mind.

She shakes her head at him, flipping to her notes on mitosis and meiosis.

Johnny tries his best to concentrate on the notes in front of him, but his thoughts keep drifting back to her. The way she looked, the way she sounded, the way she felt. He can't help but steal glances at her, his eyes always straying to her lips, his mind wandering down dirty paths.

He shifts in his seat, trying to discreetly adjust himself in his jeans. He's only half paying attention to the material now, his focus split between studying and fantasizing about her.

"What comes first again?" she asks the group "Interphase or Prophase?" She bites the tip of her eraser.

Jimmy answers; "Interphase. The phase where the cell grows and copies the DNA or something."

The rest of the group nods in agreement, but Johnny's too preoccupied to respond. His eyes are glued to her, watching her bite her eraser. He can't help but imagine that it's his finger instead... His mind starts to wander again, his thoughts becoming dirtier by the second.

She looks over at him, noticing his eyes on her, she quirks her brow at him. 'What?' she mouths to Johnny discreetly.

He quickly glances around at the rest of the group, making sure no one else noticed.

He gives her a little smile, his eyes still dark with lingering desire. He mouths back at her, 'You're distracting.'

'How?' she mouths again at him.

Johnny lets out a small huff of breath, his eyes raking over her. 'You know how.' he mouths back.

He shifts again in his seat, trying to subtly adjust himself in his jeans again. The sight of her is driving him crazy, and he's finding it increasingly difficult to concentrate.

She looks down at him fixing himself, a familiar burn comes back to haunt her. She scans the room to make sure no one is seeing this. 'I'm not doing anything' she mouths.

Johnny watches her eyes glance at his lap, her expression shifting at the sight of him adjusting. He can see the same heat in her eyes that he feels.

He mouths back to her, 'You're biting that damn eraser.'

His gaze is intense, full of desire and a hint of frustration. He nods to the eraser she was chewing on.

She looks down at it, 'So?' she mouths to Johnny.

He mouths back, 'It's distracting me.'

'Look away' she mouths back, sort of enjoying the secret banter.

He looks back at her, the corner of his lips rising in a sly smirk. 'I can't.' he mouths back.

She softly bites the tip of the eraser, looking at him, pressing his buttons.

Johnny bites his lip, leaning back on the couch, his legs spreading open slightly, a subtle invitation.

'Not fair' she mouths and shakes her head.

'You started it,' he mouths, his smirk still in place.

He looks around again, but no one else seems to be paying attention. He lets his eyes linger on her for a few more moments, his gaze dark with desire. He shifts once again, the bulge in his jeans more obvious this time.

Her eyes darted down to his growing member. 'Stop. It. Now.' she mouths, her throat feeling dry.

Johnny's smirk widens, noticing the effects of his body on her. 'Why should I?' he mouths back, his eyes holding a mischievous gleam.

He lets his legs spread even further apart, his hand resting on his lap casually. He glances down at himself, and then looks back up at her, a silent challenge in his eyes.

She bites the eraser harder, trying to keep control and composure. 'Johnny. No.' she mouths.

Seeing her mouth 'no' only makes him want her more. He shifts again, the pressure in his jeans getting to be almost unbearable.

He mouths back, 'Why not?'

He gives her a sidelong glance, a hint of defiance in his eyes.

'Study' she shoots him a warning glare, her eyes wandering to his lap once again.

He mouths back, 'Can't concentrate.'

He leans back in his seat, his legs spreading a little further apart. It's like he's daring her to look again.

She cant help but look, dammit it was right in front of her, tempting her, in front of everyone. She looked around to make sure they were still in the clear. 'Stop' she mouths, her eyes trying hard to look anywhere but his jeans.

He mouths back at her, 'Nah.'

Johnny lets his hand slide over his lap, his thumb pressing down against the hard bulge in his jeans. Just a casual move, but enough to send a message.

Two can play at this game. she leans back her notebook not so accidently, catching on her skirt as it rides up her thigh.

Johnny's eyes immediately snap down to her skirt, the fabric riding up and exposing more of her skin. He lets out a low growl under his breath, his fingers digging into the couch.

He looks up at her, his eyes dark with lust. He mouths, 'That's cheating.'

'I'm not doing anything,' she mouths, feigning innocence as she notes to bring the notebook closer, her skirt coming with it. It's dangerously close to her upper thigh.

Johnny's eyes are glued to her skirt, watching as it creeps higher and higher up her thigh. He clenches his jaw, his body tense with desire.

He mouths back at her, 'Bullshit.'

He shifts forward a little in his seat, getting a better view of her bare skin.

She decides to push him further, knowing he can't do a damn thing but watch. She brings the notebook up, her skirt revealing the lining of her white panties.

He shakes his head, the words 'Stop it.' visible on his lips.

She looks around at all of their friends, deep in their books. 'Make me' she mouths, elongating every lip movement.

Johnny watches her lips, the way they move as she mouths the challenge. He shakes his head again, his jaw clenching in a mixture of frustration and arousal.

But the look on her face, the challenge in her eyes, it's like fuel to the fire roaring inside him. He shifts forward a little more, his leg brushing against hers.

She moves her skirt back down standing up, it catches Johnny by surprise. "Be right back, just gonna go to the bathroom" she tells the group, they barely look up from their studies. She saunters away.

Johnny watches her strut away, his eyes glued to her legs as she walks. He lets out a frustrated huff, his body still thrumming with unfulfilled desire.

He looks around at the others, making sure they're still focused on their study material. He waits a few minutes, trying to compose himself, but the memory of her skirt hitched up and her panties in view is seared in his brain. He can't take it anymore.

Finally, he stands up, feigning a yawn. "Hey, I'm gonna go take a piss real quick," he calls out to the group, trying to act casual.

As Johnny makes his way towards the door, he looks back at their friends, making sure no one is watching. He slips out into the hallway, his heart pounding with anticipation.

He knocks on the closed door.

She opens it, her smirk widens when she sees her boyfriend. "Took you long enough," she whispered.

His eyes rake over her, taking in the sight of her standing in the doorway. His hands reach out automatically to grab her, pulling her closer.

"Shut up," he mutters, his voice low. "You're driving me crazy in there, doll."

"Well you better finish what *you* started" she dares.

He lets out a low growl, his eyes narrowing at her words. "Oh, I will," he mutters, his hands gripping her waist.

He pushes her back into the bathroom, shutting the door behind them.

#johnny lawrence #johnny lawrence smut #johnny lawrence x reader #the karate kid #william zabka #smut #john lawrence #johnny lawrence fic #johnny lawrence cannon

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sweettoothvn · 4 months ago

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How would the Lis react to an MC who is extremely strong? Mc can easily lift 300 lbs (136~ kg) with one arm. They don’t really think about it so they don't realize how abnormal it would be to do so. (also have been low-key obsessed with Sweet Tooth and look forward to the game :D) <3

Andre would be very excited to say the least. Entirely flustered if you picked him up too but swooning none the less.

Casey is curious about testing your limits- not in a gym bro way since he doesnt really go to the gym- more so in a "how many of one item can you carry" kind of way. Anyways he's easy to impress and brags about you CONSTANTLY.

Chrys might have you help her move stuff around, specifically really heavy plants or even cauldrons full of elixirs and such. Besides that she keeps touching your muscles like you're her new stim toy. Also she insists that you carry her from place to place. If you want to of course.

David will pretend like its not that big of a deal to him but it really is. He's intimidated but also very interested. Picking him up will make him squirm for a bit but then he refuses to even leave your arms....you feel... safe.

Eddie definitely wants to push your limits via fighting him. You're strong yeah? Well what does all the muscle do in a fight? Can you hold your own? He loves the thrill of a fight, the adrenaline rush, so seeing a potential sparring partner really excites him.

Kieran tries to compare himself to you, but of course you're stronger than him. He tries to play it off. Either he's insecure about it- or maybe he's just flustered by the fact you can pick him up. It's most likely the latter.

Noble probably doesnt treat you that differently. Muscle is cool and all but its not that big of a deal to him. If anything he's more curious about your stamina.... although using your strength in the bedroom could also garner his attention.

Zach keeps spacing out while staring at you. Face flushed entirely and he sometimes stops talking as he spaces out again. Its safe to say that he wants to see if you would be a good model for his... drawing... practice.....

#sweet tooth vn #asks #sweet tooth david #sweet tooth noble #sweet tooth eddie #sweet tooth kieran #sweet tooth zach #sweet tooth andre #sweet tooth casey #sweet tooth chrys

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creativekha0s · 7 months ago

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Liv Morgan x Rhea Ripley oneshot! I totally meant to get this written earlier in the week after Wrestlemania actually happened, but a week later isn’t so bad. Enjoy! I love making these two find their way back to each other 🥰

———————————————————————

WRESTLEMANIA XL NIGHT 1

Later that night…

Rhea Ripley defeats Becky Lynch with two Riptides at the grandest stage of them all and her dominant reign as Raw Women’s Champion continues on. Through the curtain she was celebrated by her Judgement Day companions and later on, Charlotte Flair. Once she was allowed a moment to herself, she walked on through the backstage area with a smile on her face and her championship belt on her shoulder.

“Hey Rhea, wait up!” Another one of the horsewomen, Bayley, says and jogs to catch up with her. “Hey champ, congratulations!”

“Thanks Bay. I’ve got faith in you to win your championship tomorrow night.” Rhea says with a dashing smile on her lips.

“Hey, thanks. Listen I’m not sure if I should tell you this but��.you haven’t seen Liv yet, have you?” Rhea shakes her head confusingly. “You didn’t hear this from me then. We were all watching your match back here on the monitors just having a good time, getting into the match and everything and then when you pinned Becky….I don’t know, man. One second Liv is clapping with us and the next I see a fresh set of tears down her face. Then she disappeared to her locker room I presume.”

Rhea sighs and looks down to the floor before running a hand through her hair unsure of what emotions to feel right now. She’s completely ecstatic from her match with Becky and still riding her high from it and now she can’t help but to feel a small knot of guilt in her stomach.

“Is she still here then?”

Bayley nods her head. “Door is locked and she wouldn’t open up not even for me.” She lets out a small sigh. “Listen I know it’s not my place, you’re on an adrenaline rush, I get it. Just check on her before you leave, okay?” She sees Rhea contemplate with her request and Bayley gives her arm a playful shove. “Hey come on, you owe me. If I chose you to face instead of Iyo, maybe you wouldn’t have that belt on your shoulder right now.”

“Ha ha, hugger. In your dreams.” The two exchange a final smile before Bayley moves along to head back to the monitors while Rhea struggles with a choice of heading to her own locker room or checking on her once former best friend, tag team partner….someone who she once loved. Walking back towards the locker rooms gave Rhea a bit longer to form a decision. When she got to her own locker room she quickly went over to her travel bag and began digging through it until she found what she was looking for.

Rhea grabbed her championship belt and exited her locker room to make her way towards the locker room belonging to Liv Morgan. Her hand grabbed the handle and twisted to find the door was really locked, from the clutch of her other hand she sighed and revealed a key that Liv gave her long ago, pushing it to the keyhole and unlocking the door to head inside and locking the door behind her.

“Livvy?”

Rhea asked quietly when she didn’t see the blonde around. It was quiet but tense, the television set she had was playing the 6 Pack Ladder Match for the Tag Team Championships as it happened live on a low volume. Then she heard a quiet sniffle and an exaggerated sigh from the around the corner, that’s when Liv Morgan appeared carefully wiping her eyes with a tissue and stopping dead in her tracks when she saw Rhea Ripley standing in front of her in her own locker room.

When the mini heart attack subsided in her chest, Liv wasn’t too surprised to see Rhea here. Someone must’ve seen her wipe away tears and leave the monitors and figured it must’ve been Nattie or Bayley. And the door was locked but Rhea had a key as Liv had one for Rhea’s door as well.

“Hey…champ. Congratulations on the match, you were amazing.” Liv wiped under her eyes again.

“Yeah, thanks.” Rhea slid her title belt off of her shoulder and set it down on a chair, looking at a half broken Liv Morgan in front of her. “Do you want small talk? Bayley said you locked yourself in here. And you’re crying.”

“Fuckin’ Bayley.” Liv muttered under her breath and crossed her arms. “Let’s catch up another time. This is your big night, your big win, you should go celebrate it. Don’t worry about me.”

“You’re not giving me a choice on that last bit.” Rhea shrugged her shoulders and closed the distance a little between them. “Just talk to me, Livvy. What’s going on?” Liv couldn’t fight away the fresh set of tears that formed in her eyes, she was just deep down glad that Rhea was someone who has already seen her completely vulnerable. “Come here.” Rhea pulled Liv into a tight hug without having to struggle to like last time.

Liv silently cried into Rhea’s shoulder as the Aussie gently stroked at her back to help calm her down. It was only for a few minutes but Rhea was willing to take as long as she needed.

“Am I good enough?” Liv spoke after some silence and pulled her body back just enough to look Rhea into her eyes. “Be honest with me. I came up short on not one, but two Rumble matches back to back, I don’t have a match at Wrestlemania this year, I lost my best friend but more importantly…..” Liv stopped short before finishing her sentence and noticed that Rhea’s gaze never left hers. “I’m not good enough for you anymore either.”

“Liv, come on…”

“I’m so….so fucking happy for you, Rhea. You’ve accomplished so much and you’re not slowing down anytime soon. I’m so proud of you, it’s just…” Liv goes to find another tissue for her tears but Rhea grabs her wrist to stop her. “I’m not jealous, okay? You deserve everything. I’m-“ Rhea leads Liv over to the couch and sits them both down.

“I’m terrified, Liv.” Rhea says sadly with a light chuckle. “Right now I feel like I’m sitting well above the world right now and we both know that means the only way out is back down.” After swallowing her pride, Rhea smiles and adverts her eyes back to the blonde. “Absolutely, Liv Morgan, you’re good enough if not better than anything that’s in front of you. One of the biggest reasons I’m going as hard as I can is because I’m inspired by you and your ‘never quit’ attitude. The reason I’m here is because of you. I mean, you beat Ronda Rousey. Twice. You’re the first to ever do that.”

Liv blushed and had to look away no matter how much she desperately wanted to get lost in Rhea’s eyes. It wasn’t the answer she was expecting to get but the sudden warm feeling that felt in her chest made her spirits start to skyrocket.

“It can’t just be because of me. You’re a wonder of the world all on your own.” Liv sported a tiny smile on her lips. “But hearing that from our Women’s Champion does feel pretty good.”

The two chuckled and Rhea made the move to inch her body closer to Liv’s, the blonde’s heart fluttering more in her chest.

“You will always be good enough for me, Livvy. I’d be lying if I didn’t that I’ve been thinking about us lately…..what we had together…..” The Aussie tucks a few strands of hair behind her ears. “I’m sorry things have gotten rocky between us.” Her hand finds Liv’s hand and subtly strokes the top of it with her thumb. “Maybe we can find our way back again.”

“That’s so much hope to give me in my current headspace.” Liv chuckled and held her hand tighter. “I’d like that. A lot. I miss us.”

“I miss us too.” Rhea chuckled with a big genuine smile on her face. “And not just because it gets lonely at the top. I really miss us and I wouldn’t mind working on making some things up to you, like getting your confidence back. I know you got it.”

“Proving I’m good enough to myself, by myself, hasn’t been easy.” Liv sighed and gave Rhea a hug. “I don’t want to keep you from the rest of your night, you should go celebrate and catch the other matches.”

“I do have the press conference to get ready for, yeah.” Rhea sighed and tightened her arms around Liv’s body.

“Is it okay if I kiss you?” Liv asked suddenly but Rhea found it adorable that she asked for permission out of nowhere.

Pulling back, Rhea smiled and nodded her head while admiring Liv Morgan in a light she hasn’t seen in almost two years. If there was one weakness in her career, it was her. Something about a 5 foot 3 blonde who shared her passion for wrestling and beyond she couldn’t dare keep turning away from, not after an incredible night like tonight. With the most confidence she’s had all night, Liv slowly captured Rhea’s lips for a kiss that made them both feel whole again, as if they were both home with each other again.

Until her press conference had to start, Rhea stayed with Liv in her locker room all night together, cuddled up on her locker room couch, peppering sweet kisses to the side of Liv’s head and her cheek as they watched together the rest of the matches Wrestlemania Night 1 had to offer.

#writing #liv morgan x rhea ripley #liv 4 brutality #rhea ripley x liv morgan #liv x rhea #rhea x liv #liv morgan #rhea ripley #women of wwe #WWE #Wrestlemania XL

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outlawssweetheart · 6 months ago

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Sorry I'm only reacting now to your OC post ! 😩 I'm glad you managed to get the draft back haha ! Hoping this one doesn't disappear as well ! 🤞

I'm always weak for the thought of dad Erron being scared of fatherhood at first and suddenly realizing how much he loves his baby. Holding Lizzie for the first time must have been such a strong revelation for him. Makes me wonder if he was the one who brought up the thought of a second child? 👀 Like, Lizzie was pretty much unplanned from what I understand but Lana ? 🧐 I think Skarlet would be torn between being overjoyed at the prospect of having a second child and being surprised that it was Erron who brought up the idea ! 💖

Honestly I'd love to learn more about their family dynamic, especially Lizzie because I find it sooo funny how she'd be like- the only "normal" person in this family of murderous adrenaline junkies. 😂 Her parents being weird in front of her friends would probably embarrass her as well !

Also I'm curious about how Skarlet would develop as a person in your story because I remember you saying you weren't really up for a redemption arc for her canonically. Yet, she finds herself being a mom and leaving a rather "normal-ish" family life in Earthrealm. What do you think would bring her to this point in her life in your story ?

Finally, I'm curious because you often mention your stories/books/fanfics and I've been wondering if you have ever posted any of them? Like, I remember seeing snippets of your original stories but do you have any of them or any fanfics published?

(Sending you my support for your writing projects btw ✨)

I've never actually thought about it, when they decided to have a 2nd kid. Like I honestly never thought about it, or if she was planned or another accident, but I LOVE the idea that Erron suggested having another! Lizzie is 7 years older than Lana, so that's quite some years between kids. I suppose that after her, they figured she'd be an only child, but then years later they caught the Baby Fever and just wanted another one.

I think he was shook holding Lizzie for the first time. He probably cried a bit, but he would never admit to it. (Skarlet knows. He denies it, but she saw it.) Not only realizing that he loves his child but also feeling the weight of his own familial trauma... all at once. Maybe that's why she let him be the one to name her? 🥺

I think Elizabeth is a bit of a Sad Girl™. (I have "Ow (Intro)" by Pom Pom Squad and "Human" by Christina Perri on her Pinterest board section for my original story, so I must've been cooking a bit for her.) Which makes sense; one of the children is bound to get Skarlet's and Erron's melancholy, and it ain't Lana! 🤷🏽‍♀️ (Sidenote: I remembered that they're both low-key named after Lana Del Rey because her real name is Elizabeth! 😭 I mean, she is my Skarron queen! 🫶🏽)

As for Skarlet: That's my CONTRARIAN ASS because I love Skarlet as a villain, but I also love the idea of her and Erron just living a domestic life together. *sighs* So in The Bubblegum Project (the story I mentioned because I have another one that I'm supposed to be writing rn), Lana's mother is a vampire, her father is a 185-year-old witch, and they settle down in Texas, acting normal. (He uses witchcraft to secure a job as a history professor, and she has a job as a showgirl at a fancy burlesque club.) However, he's a hitman on the side, and she's still killing people for blood even though there is a medication to fill the need for blood. (I reblogged this gif-set to my writing/story inspo blog for them, and I just love the idea of Erron & Skarlet having that kind of dynamic, due to the way Erron still shows signs of his humanity. *chef's kiss* TOP-TIER ship dynamic for me! 🤌🏽)

I think they got to that point because she got pregnant, WOOPSIES, and they wanted to give their child the best life they could. Idk exactly where my OCs were living, but they knew their lifestyles (which would've been similar to Skarron's) weren't good for a child to grow up in. And Skarlet and Erron would know that Outworld is not a good place for a child to grow up in. Skarlet knows that firsthand. And it's most definitely not safe because they've both likely made enemies there.

And unfortunately, no, I have anything written or published yet. I have 2 old Marvel fanfics, and I started writing a Scream fanfic over 2 years ago, but my attention span is garbage, along with the fact that I hate my own writing. 😩 And I have bits and pieces of original stories written, just the beginning of a chapter here and there, but nothing really yet. But THANK YOU! 🫶🏽

#skarron #erron black #mk skarlet #erron x skarlet #mk oc #mortak kombat oc #mk original character #mk headcanons #mortal kombat #txt #my answered asks ✨

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angstyaches · 2 years ago

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couldn't resist sending you a few prompts from that list, what yummy dialogue!! i'd love to see some sick Donnacha and caretaker Henry (i adore their dynamic, it soothes my soul) maybe using "you're still alive, right?" and "shit, i've never been this sick in my life." i'm also fond of "i hid the car keys. you're. staying. home." but tbh flick everything you write is pure gold so please go for whatever prompts tickle your fancy <3

Anon asked:

yay! i wasn’t sure if you were so i didn’t want to make a request without checking first. from the question ideas #15 post that you reblogged, would you be interested in writing something for donnacha around the “bad day?” prompt? i’m kinda obsessed with the platonic caretaking between him and henry. i’m also really interested to know if donnacha will continue to explore his sexuality beyond his kiss with henry (without actually involving henry in the experimentation) and how any potential realizations will make him feel

Quotes are from this prompt list.

Thank you for the opportunity to expand upon Donnacha's bisexual journey because I've actually wanted to do that for ages.

CW: anxiety, slight (bisexual) panic, coming out, nausea, stomach ache, emeto, platonic caretaking, implied potential sc*t,

Word Length: fucking long.

___

11:36pm

When he walked through the hallway and into the living room at this hour, he didn’t expect to find the room filled with basically everybody he knew – besides his family and his rugby mates.

Donnacha froze, feeling like he’d just stepped off a plane. Or a merry-go-round. Somewhere he didn’t quite feel like himself, where the rules of life sort of went out the window, and existence itself shifted a little bit.

All the nerves and adrenaline and sparkly feelings that had filled his night all left him at the same time, dumping him right back in the thick of reality.

His stomach took a particularly low dip as he noticed Payton on the couch, their arm draped around Autumn’s shoulders. They both stiffened when they saw him, but they didn’t disentangle from each other.

“Hi,” Autumn said. Her hair was longer than the last time he’d seen her.

“Hiya,” Donnacha mumbled.

Payton didn’t greet him. He’d been cold with them for so long now that they barely bothered anymore. Donnacha’s stomach twisted with guilt, as well as a hint of victory. An empty sort of victory, but still.

Lucy was sitting on the couch too, in pyjama bottoms and a hoodie, one knee pulled to her chest. She looked up briefly from her phone. “Oh, hey, Donnacha.”

And then Henry fixed him with a look, and Donnacha felt like he could breathe again. He was sitting at the dining table, with his worn copy The Catcher in the Rye and a cup of tea.

Tea sounded fucking lovely, actually. The cocktails had been yummy while he’d been drinking them, but he would appreciate something to wash the sickly-sweet aftertaste out of his mouth and settle the burning upset in his belly.

“How was it?” Henry asked him, ever straight to the point.

That snagged everybody else’s attention more than Donnacha’s initial arrival had.

God, he loved Henry, but he could kill him sometimes.

“Oh, shit,” Lucy exclaimed, eyeing Donnacha’s jeans – his nice jeans, not his everyday jeans – and shirt. She let her phone rest on her knee. “Did you have another date tonight?”

“Yeah, I did,” he responded weakly, focusing on her rather than letting his eyes trail towards Autumn. “It was kind of a... last-minute thing.”

“Another date,” Autumn repeated. She was braver than him. Always had been. Ran headlong into things with a smile on her face.

Donnacha gritted his teeth and tried his best to look casual as he met her gaze.

“I didn’t know you were dating someone.” She looked genuinely happy for him, which Donnacha silently resented, and resented himself for resenting. Payton shifted their weight, and for once, Donnacha couldn’t even bask in their discomfort, because this was extremely uncomfortable for him, too.

“Two someones, actually,” he blurted out. The words immediately tasted horrible in his mouth. He had no desire to make Autumn jealous, so what was this burning need to prove something? What was he even trying to prove?

“Two?” Henry’s interest was renewed. “You weren’t out with the same person as yesterday?”

Donnacha forced a smile, promising himself he wouldn’t get mad at Henry. But Christ, he just wanted a cup of tea, not an inquisition.

“Nope,” he said.

“Okay, so, how was it tonight?” Lucy wanted to know. She propped her fist under her chin and leaned onto her knees. “Was she pretty? Nice?”

“Um...” Donnacha felt a tickle of a laugh rise in his chest, despite everything. His hands and his voice were trembling, which was mildly ridiculous. “Actually, he was... cute.”

The room fell silent, and his unsettled belly was suddenly flooded with an anxious buzzing. This wasn’t the fluttery anticipation he’d felt at the start of the night, like he was a teenager about to step onto the field for his first under-20s game. This was despair, like fumbling the ball and costing his team the winning try during his first under-20s game.

It sank in all at once, what he had just done. Jesus, what a way to come out to two of his roommates and his ex-girlfriend as... whatever he was. He probably should have at least waited until he had a word for it.

“He was a polite sort of lad. Pulled my chair out for me, which has never happened to me before, actually,” Donnacha chuckled, mainly because nobody else was saying anything. The only person whose gaze he could bear to meet was Henry’s, and when he did, Henry gave him a little wink of approval.

And then Donnacha got his breath back.

He could kill Henry sometimes, but he loved him.

Lucy looked the least surprised out of the other three, but she still squinted at him like he was a maths test and she’d slept through the last ten lessons. “Okay, sorry, but... yesterday, it was a girl, right? You showed me a picture. She had long, brown hair, a tattoo on her neck –”

“That was, um, a genderqueer person, actually.” Donnacha rubbed the back of his neck. He wished he could stop saying ‘actually’ so much; he butchered it with his accent every time, and it made him feel like he was being insincere when he wasn’t. “Not a ‘she’.”

“Oh,” Lucy exclaimed. “Oh, sorry.”

“And... how did that one go?” Payton’s voice was low and somewhat deliberate. It was probably the first time they’d spoken directly to him in a week.

“Ve was very nice.”

Even Henry looked shocked and impressed this time; he’d surely assumed that someone like Donnacha wouldn’t even know what neopronouns were, let alone manage to use them in a sentence. It seemed like a silly thing to feel smug about, but Donnacha couldn’t help it. He barely recognised himself these days; it almost felt necessary to let some other people in on the craziness.

“But m-maybe a bit too intellectual,” Donnacha went on, despite the swelling discomfort in his stomach. He was over-sharing. He had never been like this. Maybe he’d always talked things out with Autumn one-on-one, and now his ramblings needed other outlets. “I think ve would get, um, bored of me very quickly.”

“I’m sure that’s not true,” Lucy frowned.

Donnacha shivered, breathing hard against a wave of nausea. What the hell was wrong with him? Henry and Lucy were both gay, Payton was nonbinary, and Autumn was... well, he wasn’t entirely sure, but she was clearly attracted to someone who wasn’t a man, so not necessarily straight. This was the safest room of people he could be in.

So why did he feel like he was going to faint, or throw up, or both?

“Anyway. Cuppa?” He skimmed his gaze over Payton, Autumn, and Lucy. “No? Hen?”

Henry shook his head. “No, thanks, hon, I’m still nursing mine.”

“So you are.” Donnacha snapped his fingers in the direction of Henry’s mug. He’d never snapped his fingers before pointing at anything before in his life.

Before he could do or say anything else weird, he turned towards the kitchen. His knees threatened to sag while he was putting water in the kettle, ears straining towards the living room. It felt like he’d just let off a slew of random fireworks and then left. He wondered if they would talk about him now, while he was out of sight.

Sweat crackled on his forehead. What whispers would Autumn and Payton be sharing? Donnacha wondered – again – why he even cared. His feelings for Autumn were in the past. If she broke up with Payton and asked Donnacha to take her back tomorrow, he would say no. He knew that, as certainly as he knew Henry’s favourite chocolate was 70% cocoa with sea salt. His feelings for her had changed. That was what his kiss with Henry had taught him.

He slapped a dry teabag against the back of his hand while he waited for the kettle to finish boiling. His cheeks puffed out under the force of a slow, lazy belch that crept up from his gut. God, those cocktails were not sitting great. Donnacha’s throat felt sticky, as though he was still sipping one. Now that his mood was dipping, he couldn’t help thinking that the fried chicken they had ordered to the table had been a little hard to choke down. He wasn’t used to deep-fried food, and he could feel how his belly was gurgling away trying to digest the greasy coating and the stringy meat.

At this point in time, he remembered the unpleasantness of the food, and the shifting of his stomach, more than he remembered the face of the man that he’d shared it with. Although, that might have had to do with the fact that he felt like he was suffocating right now.

Do you know what? Tea, be damned. Who could be arsed standing around, waiting for a kettle to boil, when they were embarrassed and not feeling well?

Donnacha skulked back through the living area, slowing down but not stopping.

“I’m off to bed, actually,” he said. Actually. He didn’t meet anyone’s gaze this time. “I’m wrecked. I’ll see yous tomorrow, or...” He broke himself off with a nod as he ducked through the archway and bolted for his bedroom.

11:58pm

He sat and fidgeted with his phone for a couple of minutes. He had texts from both Josh and Willow, but every time he thought about composing a reply to either of them, it felt like they were both in the room, standing over him with their shoes pressed against his chest. Josh with his brogues, Willow with ver knee-high boots. Josh, smelling like musk and molasses; Willow, smelling like an ocean breeze. Both of them fantastic and gorgeous and, apparently, waiting for texts back from him because they liked him.

So why couldn't he stop focusing on the looks he might get if he walked about town with either one of them on his arm? Why, instead of giddy and excited, did he only feel this sickening dread?

“Donnacha!” Henry’s voice said sharply on the other side of the door, as though they’d been in the middle of a conversation and Donnacha had said something outrageous.

His skin prickled, hot then cold. He got up, stomped over, and opened the door. “What?”

Henry made a face and shut his eyes, like he was rebooting himself. When he spoke again, there was something a little more fragile about his voice.

“Bad day, was it?”

“No! It was fine! I told you.” Donnacha sat down on his bed again. Standing was doing his stomach no favours.

Henry paced in behind him.

“Maybe our personalities didn’t click very well,” Donnacha shrugged. “Maybe he reminded me a bit too much of myself. And I might now know who or what I’m interested in, but I know for a fact I’m not interested in going out with myself.”

Henry nodded as though what he was hearing wasn’t the ramblings of a slightly drunk man having a crisis.

“And, of course, I was nervous,” Donnacha murmured, lowering his chin slightly. “You know? I’m twenty-five and casually dating for the first time ever. And it was a lad, hen. And this... the lads thing, it – it still feels weird, actually.” Actually. “But I was... no, I was the normal amount of nervous. It was a normal kind of date. Just normal.”

Henry shifted his weight from one leg to the other, cane tilting with his hips. “Donnacha, I... asked if you had a bad day. Not a bad date.”

Donnacha swallowed, this time tasting the chicken grease right in the back of his throat. He folded his arms over his middle and leaned forward, testing how the pressure felt against his stomach. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Misheard ya, then.” Donnacha sniffed and cleared his throat. And then words came out of his mouth in a dizzying rush. "Bad days, I-I've had any amount of those recently."

"What?" Henry asked hoarsely. "And... you didn't think to say anything?"

Donnacha shrugged. He noticed that Henry’s glasses were slipping down his nose, just a bit, but he was eyeing the way Donnacha was sitting, hugging his belly.

“Are... you feeling sick?”

Instead of a verbal reply, Donnacha hiccupped, the pain cutting so deeply through his chest that he made a choking sound like he’d been punched.

“You gonna be sick?” Henry asked, casting a glance towards the hallway as an afterthought, presumably wondering if Lucy’s ears had pricked up at his words.

“I don’t know. I don’t know anything, Hen!” Donnacha was raising his voice now, and he either didn’t care, or cared immensely. “I – I don’t even know who I am anymore.”

Donnacha’s face burned as the words escaped him.

Jesus Christ.

He’d never been this moody and self-indulgent, but it felt as though he’d stumbled across this beautiful, yet painfully delicate, thing inside of him, and the thought of exposing it – allowing it to be observed, critiqued, potentially broken – to the world made him want to scream.

Back home, he’d have sent his old man into absolute uproar if he’d come out with a line like that, accusing him of having too much time on his hands. His secondary school coach would have asked him if he’d rather join the drama society (ironically, of course, since his school hadn’t had a drama society). Even the lads on the current team would probably chuckle at him, or, at best, nudge him in the direction of a counsellor rather than have him bang on like this in front of them.

Henry didn’t ridicule him. He didn’t accuse him of being soft.

Instead, Henry hobbled forward to stand next to him, combed his fingers through Donnacha’s hair, and leaned forward to kiss his forehead. Donnacha sighed – or was it a little sob? – and tilted his head against Henry’s stomach. It felt good to have a body so close to him. This was more physical contact than he had experienced on either of his two dates, and that thought was so confusing that it made the knots in his stomach pull even tighter.

“You don’t have to know,” Henry whispered. “You don’t have to know anything. Your story belongs to you, and no one else.”

Bile rose in Donnacha’s throat. “Bit late for that now.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I... made a show of myself, didn’t I?” Donnacha flicked a hand in the general direction of the living area, as though the scene where he’d announced his sexual fluidity was still taking place out there, in open defiance of him and his current feelings about it.

“You didn’t make a show of yourself. Donnacha, what are you on about?” Henry tilted his head and brushed a tear away from Donnacha’s cheek with his thumb. His hand was a little cold, thanks to his bad circulation, “Exactly what do you think you did wrong?”

“I... I don’t know. I thought talking about it would be easier, is all,” Donnacha said on a trembling sigh. His stomach cramped, but the pain felt secondary to the panic that had wound its way around his chest. “It felt weird, a-and... it felt like stripping down to the nip and waving my arse in the air, with all of you watching me.”

“That’s...” A smile, both wry and fond, crept through the lines in Henry’s features. “Unfortunately, that’s what coming out often feels like. I mean, maybe it was too soon for you, and you took yourself by surprise. You sure as fuck took me by surprise.”

Donnacha chuckled drily, and Henry kissed his head again.

“But I was so proud of you, hon.”

A spark of warmth circled Donnacha’s heart.

“Hope you know that.”

Donnacha tried to swallow around a hiccup, not wanting to ruin what felt like a tender moment, but he failed spectacularly and ended up belching instead.

“Thank you," he mumbled. "‘Scuse me.”

"We'll chat more tomorrow. I think you should try to get some sleep.”

“I will, if you get out of my room, you weirdo,” Donnacha mumbled. He reached up to squeeze Henry’s arm before sinking back a little on the bed.

“Rude.” Henry finally adjusted his glasses. He glanced towards Donnacha’s bedside cabinet. “You never made that cup of tea, by the way. Do you want me to bring you one?”

Donnacha curled his lip, rubbing one hand over his middle. “Nah, my stomach really doesn’t feel great.”

Henry nodded, eyeing him warily again. “Well, I’ve been having atrocious insomnia, so let me know if you need anything.”

12:21am

Jesus, but these cramps were getting brutal now.

Donnacha was relieved that Henry hadn’t decided to spend the night in his room, because as soon as he had laid down, it sounded like a lawnmower engine had started up in his belly.

He had resigned himself to sleeping on his back, which he didn’t usually do. Acid sloshed into the base of his oesophagus, thanks to the heartless bitch called gravity, but it was the only position he could find where he could cradle his sore, gurgling stomach with both hands. He woke a few times to find his hands had slid to his sides and had to readjust them.

4:07am

A car horn blasted him fully from his sleep.

Donnacha groaned in pain (Oh, sweet Jesus, my belly hurts) and confusion (who the hell is sitting on their horn at this hour?!). He was starting to think he’d never get used to living in the town. Back home, the most he’d ever be woken up by was a crying fox, and even that used to be an exciting affair that he’d share with his parents and sisters over breakfast. (Did any of yous hear the fox last night?!)

He sat up in bed, and as he did, his belly growled like he was starving, when he was in fact the opposite. Its contents went tumbling over into a heavy pile. Donnacha let out a hiccup-belch, his throat too tight to release enough air to relieve any of the pain.

He planted a hand on his stomach, flinching when the pressure stirred up more pain than he’d expected. His belly was pushing out, taking up more space inside his old jersey than it usually did, and the surface of it felt stretched and tight. He frowned. He hadn’t exactly gone overboard last night, and none of his drinks had been carbonated.

Must’ve been that chicken, he thought. Saliva flooded his cheeks even as he recalled it. A gurgle wove its way through his gut, accompanied by a clenching, slithering pain.

A bead of sweat chased another bead of sweat down his back.

He shot to his feet and moved as fast as he could without bouncing himself up and down. His stomach was jostled nonetheless, and he burped and hiccupped and gulped convulsively all the way to the bathroom.

When he reached the toilet, he was drooling and gagging, ready to get this over with. Donnacha cringed and braced himself, but it wasn’t enough to lessen the unpleasantness of experiencing that sticky, greasy chicken in his mouth all over again, this time mixed with acidic juices.

All he could do was squeeze his eyes shut and look forward to the relief he knew he’d feel later, when the food was unable to torment his stomach anymore.

He retched hard, throat constricting around strangled groans.

It was down his shirt, he realised when the retching slowed down and he opened his eyes. One of the hiccups in the hallway must have brought something up with it.

Shit. He needed to go check that he hadn’t left any on the floor. If Lucy saw that, she’d –

“Urrgggghhh,” Donnach moaned as sharp pains wracked his belly. He’d made a bit of a mess on the floor, too, somehow, but he’d had to deal with that later.

The next wave was coursing up his throat, filling his mouth all the way to the backs of his teeth, before spilling into the toilet bowl. He couldn’t remember throwing up this thickly, this immensely, since he’d been little. He could almost feel the chill of the farmhouse bathroom – which was very different and much fresher than the chill that plagued apartment blocks. He pictured his mother fussing over him, checking his forehead with her hand, tutting as she went looking for the cordless landline so she could call his school. He could almost taste the 7Up that she would stir the bubbles out of, because flat 7Up was the cure for everything in those days.

As he choked up a mouthful of yellow fluid that stuck to his lips on the way out, Donnacha couldn’t remember if stomach acid and flat 7Up tasted much different.

Ew.

He retched again.

He wasn’t sure how long he spent in front of the toilet, but eventually, Donnacha noted that he needed to pee. Too exhausted and nauseous to stand, he peeled himself up off the floor and sat on the toilet seat. He couldn’t have said how long he spent like that, hunched over so that his head nearly touched his knees, arms gripping his cramping belly. All in all, this was a relatively safe spot for him to be in, especially if things went south. Well, further south. Based on how things were progressing, he wouldn’t have been surprised...

Donnacha sat up, propped his elbows on his knees, and cradled his head in his hands.

5:27am

The front door slammed.

Donnacha jumped. Shivered. He was still sitting on the toilet, and he felt dizzy. Had he dozed off? Or just spaced out for a second? He blinked and glanced over at the thin light white streaming through the bathroom window.

It had probably been Lucy, he thought blearily, leaving for classes a lot earlier than usual. Made sense that she’d want to get out of the house, if she’d caught wind of any of Donnacha’s troubles in the night.

Donnacha would probably feel bad about setting off her phobia later, but right now, he didn’t have the energy to feel any worse than he already did.

5:38am

Whether he’d beaten his insomnia or not, the front door slamming must have gotten Henry out of bed. He must have seen Donnacha’s bedroom door swinging open, and his empty bed, because Donnacha’s ears were suddenly prickling from the gentle taps of his cane as he came down the hallway towards the bathroom door.

He didn’t knock. He just gently called out, “Donnacha?”

Donnacha squeezed his eyes shut. Bad idea. His head immediately started to spin and his upper body started to sway.

“Hey, hon?” Henry called out a little more sharply. “Still alive in there, aren’t you?”

“Just about,” he croaked.

“Want me to come in?”

Donnacha looked down at his sick-stained jersey. He was still sitting on the toilet. He and Henry might have been close, but… not this close. Donnacha wasn’t sure he ever wanted to be this close to anybody.

“No,” he muttered.

“You coming out soon?”

Donnacha groaned. “Yeah, yeah. Just go away and give me a few minutes.”

“Alright.”

5:45am

“Jesus…”

“Come on,” Donnacha murmured, reaching for Henry’s hand and attempting to turn him around. “You don’t want to be near that bathroom for a while.”

Henry was inclined to believe him.

“How did... I didn’t think you were that drunk last night.” Henry frowned. If he’d known this was going to happen, he could have left a bucket in Donnacha’s room. He’d seemed upset after talking to everyone in the living room, but Henry hadn’t thought he’d been hammered. Who got drunk enough to make themselves puke on a first date?

“I wasn’t,” Donnacha whined. He rubbed the heel of his hand against his belly as they walked towards Donnacha’s room. “I think it was the food at the cocktail bar.”

“Why, what’d you have?”

“Ugh, this horrible, greasy chicken.” Donnacha’s cheeks puffed out a little, and his hand pressed further into his middle, as though his wrung-out stomach could barely take the mention of said chicken. “Ugh. Gave me this fierce belly ache last night.”

“Or,” Henry ventured, “you were coming down with a bug.”

“No. Nope.” Donnacha shook his head and let go of Henry’s arm as they reached his bedroom. “See, I had that one a few months ago. You remember it.”

Henry stood still, frowning as hard as ever, while Donnacha lowered himself onto the bed. The duvet was ruffled from the night before, but he made no effort to pull it up around himself.

Henry blew a gentle raspberry with his lips. “You don’t – you can’t just, like, get one tummy bug and then be immune to all of them. It’s not like the chickenpox –”

Donnacha whined, making a face like a child who was about to be lectured. “Ssshhh, Hen.”

Henry bristled slightly at being told to sshh, but let it slide seeing as Donnacha wasn’t feeling well. He eyed him as he settled down on his side, face pressed into his pillow.

“Going to sleep?”

“I’m actually just... gonna rest my eyes for a minute.”

“Or you could go to sleep.” Henry reached for the duvet and started to pull it up over Donnacha’s side.

“Can’t.” Donnacha's voice sounded ragged. “Training at half eight. Have to shower.”

Henry snort-laughed. Donnacha lifted a hand to try to push the duvet away from his shoulder.

“Match next week,” Donnacha croaked, tucking one arm under his head and curling the other around his belly. For someone who didn’t want to be tucked in, he sure looked like he was getting comfortable. “Can’t skip.”

“Wait, you’re being serious?” Henry froze, still holding the corner of the duvet so that it made a tent shape over Donnacha’s upper body. He didn’t want to laugh again, but one was bubbling in his chest. “You’re hardly going to training, hon.”

“I’m grand,” Donnacha told him. “I’ve got – gotten it all up. And… out. Out of my system. Should be fine now.”

“I thought you might say that, so, actually –” Henry said.

He swore he heard Donnacha mutter under his breath, “Actually.”

“– I’ve taken the liberty of hiding your car keys.”

It seemed to take a few seconds for the words to filter down through Donnacha’s tangled, exhausted thoughts. Henry used that time to lower the duvet and tuck him in, ignoring the twinge in his hip as he leaned.

He hadn’t really hidden Donnacha’s keys – they had probably walked past them in the hallway on the way back from the bathroom – but Henry was relying on the fact that Donnacha seemed way too shattered to get up and investigate.

Donnacha glared up at him from the bed, with all the ferocity of a puppy waking from a nap. “No, you bloody didn’t.”

“Bloody well did. I know, I know.” Henry gestured lightly towards his own collarbone and let his voice drift towards Lavender’s, just for the theatrics. “I always have been a criminal mastermind of the highest order.”

“I can walk,” Donnacha threatened, stifling a yawn, “if I leave right now.”

“Dear boy, you’ll get blown down by the smallest breeze,” Henry relished telling him, “before you even get out of the driveway.”

“You know that I can take you, don’t you, Hen?”

“Oh, yeah?”

Donnacha hummed in the affirmative, wrapping the corner of his duvet around his hand and pulling it in close to his chest. “Yeah. I can make you give me my keys and spill all your secrets.”

“Usually, yes, but you couldn’t even take a bit of tall grass right now. Will you listen and get this through your head?”

Henry leaned forward on his cane, so his face was a little closer to Donnacha’s pillow. His hip twinged a little less this time.

“You’re. Staying. Home," Henry said, his stomach twisting with each word. He hated having to be stern - he had a fundamental aversion to it - but sometimes Donnacha could be so stubborn that he was a hazard to his own health. Henry reckoned he would never understand it himself, the way that Donnacha devoted himself, as well as the majority of his free time, to the rugby team.

Henry righted himself, sighing, when Donnacha's silence indicated that he'd won. “You can beat me up over it when you’re better.”

“Probably a good thing,” Donnacha slurred. Henry was almost sure that he’d just started to drool against his pillow. “My belly hurts something fierce."

Henry raised his eyebrows.

"I don't... mmm." Donnacha gulped, his hand tightening around the corner of his blanket. "Shit. I don't think I've ever been this sick in my life, actually.”

“Donnacha. Seriously?”

“Yeah.”

“And... you still needed me to stop you from going to training.”

Donnacha hummed in the affirmative, and Henry wondered hopelessly how someone so consistent could ever feel as though they didn't know who they were.

He reckoned he'd spell it out for him later, though, since Donnacha seemed to have fallen asleep and was - indeed - drooling on his pillow.

#Lucyverse Donnacha #Lucyverse Henry #sickfic #emeto #emeto sickfic #stomach bug fic #stomach ache fic #hurt comfort #hurt and comfort #platonic caretaking #angst fic #angst

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leslie-lyman · 2 years ago

Note

RELEASE THE ZACH STORY

Oh anon. Be careful what you wish for. 😂

Here’s the first little bit of it, the only coherent part I could post, tbh. This was my first time ever writing a reader insert. Maybe one day I’ll finish it. Takes place during the events of the show.

Justin’s car isn’t in the driveway when you pull up, but that’s no problem.

You’re there a bit earlier than you’d anticipated, but you figure even if Justin’s not home from his shift yet you can let yourself in. You’ve been friends long enough that you know under which flower pot the spare key is kept, and you’re more than comfortable letting yourself in.

It’s a tricky balancing act getting the key into the lock with a container of cupcakes on one arm and your bag over the other, but you manage it. But with all your focus on not dropping anything, it isn’t until you shut the door behind you and turn back around to face the room that you realize you’re not alone.

The sight of a tall, unfamiliar man in the kitchen doorway across from you causes you to let out a yelp of surprise, the container of treats falling to the floor with a loud smack on the hardwood.

“Who-” The word comes out at a much higher pitch than you’d like, the adrenaline from your fight or flight response taking over fast. Have you interrupted a robbery?

The man looks almost as startled to see you as you are to see him, but he holds up his hands in the universal gesture for I am not a threat and takes the smallest step towards you.

“Hey, hey, it’s alright-” he says, his voice warm and low, “I’m not gonna hurt you.”

“Who are you?” You manage to get the entire question out this time.

“I’m Zach,” he replies, “I’m a- a friend of Justin’s.”

It’s probably a good sign that he knows the name of the guy who lives here, right?

“Who are you?” he asks, and it’s with a neutral tone, but there’s an undercurrent of wariness.

You tell him your name. “I’m just here to see Justin, but his car wasn’t out front so I let myself in-” Something clicks, then, in the back of your mind, a fragment of memory surfacing from a conversation you’d had with Justin last week. “Wait, Justin told me he had someone staying with him for a bit-” What was it he’d told you about his unexpected guest? “You’re the ex-Marine, right?”

A dark look passes over Zach’s features and he looks away from you. A muscle flexes in his neck like he’s grinding his teeth together. “Yeah, that’s me.”

But as quickly as the expression comes, it fades, and when he looks back at you, his eyes are soft.

“Look, I’m really sorry for startling you,” he says, sounding genuinely contrite.

The adrenaline is slowly starting to ebb from your system, and you place a hand to your chest as if it could help slow your racing heart. You shake your head vigorously.

“No, if anything, I’m sorry for startling you. I’m the one forgetting that Justin had a guest staying with him and barging in here without any warning.” You know that veterans in particular don’t have a high tolerance for being snuck up on.

Zach swallows and reaches one hand up to rub the back of his neck. “It’s okay,” he replies, “Justin- he didn’t mention he had a girlfriend.”

The snort you make at the insinuation is both totally involuntary and utterly unladylike.

“Oh, trust me, I’m not. My relationship with Justin is strictly platonic,” you say without thinking. But then the implications catch up to you. Wait. Did he - did he say that on purpose? As a way to check if you’re single?

But Zach looks nothing but abashed at having made the wrong assumption. He rocks back on his heels and shrugs, awkwardly adorable.

“Well, I’m not sure when Justin will be back, but you’re obviously welcome to stay. I can- I can move my stuff and get out of your way.” His voice gets very quiet. He gestures to the couch and for the first time you notice the pillow at one end, a blanket folded neatly on top of it, and the large duffle bag on the floor that must be his.

Justin had mentioned that Zach had - what did he call it? - a “place to sleep problem.” Zach doesn’t meet your eye and his shoulders have curled in on themselves a little, like he’s trying to be as unobtrusive as possible. Normally when people say “I’ll move my stuff” they mean “I’ll clear off some of my crap from the coffee table,” not “I can hide away the bag that holds everything I own like I don’t even exist.”

Anger flares inside you for a moment, anger that Zach would feel like his very presence is some kind of imposition onto whatever your original plans for coming over were.

That won’t do, you decide very quickly. That won’t do at all.

“Or,” you say, bending down to pick up the container of cupcakes from the floor, “you could help me see how many of these are still edible?”

Zach doesn’t smile at you. Not really. Nothing more than a tiny quirking up of one side of his mouth, but…

He nods.

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genmaichafan · 7 months ago

Text

Katarina du Couteau x fem! Zuanite reader.

Rated t for slight violence. Maybe a one shot but short and sweet

“What will it be today [y/n]”

”that good ole demacian ale please.”

”a lady with taste.” the bartender curtly nodded

You thanked the barkeep for the large tankard full of the golden beverage. You’ve had this strain three times before but this particular brew was good even by demacian standards.

You took a big swig. You savored the effervescently bitter liquid. It had slight notes of malt and citrus. Demacian always had the best brews but this was on another level. You chocked it up to the readily available grain that received many hours of sun and the many places of shade for hops to grow. Not to mention the brews were on average stronger than the ones you drank at home. Remembering the lighter taste made you excited to drink the ale in front of you again.

not to mention with so much of it it never broke the bank even for someone traveling the world.

You sat down in the corner of the room alone. The dimness of the bar giving a all around relaxed atmosphere heightened by the merry making on the part of the other patrons. Often farmers but the odd soldier was there, the odd one sleeping from the long shift.

luckily for you no one seemed to bother you.

probably because you looked like you personally looked like you were from piltover.

______

3 large tankards later more than fairly buzzed.

With the tab paid for left for a night stroll.

you were in one of the outer towns of Demacia and the late evening air was crisp. the walk would’ve been rather relaxing if it weren’t for the fact it was low key creepy as hell out here due to the stories of people going missing in recent years.

That's when you heard someone talking in the distance. They seemed to be having a kerfuffle. Due to your nosy nature you decided to check it out.

and Lo and behold it was a fellow traveler being harassed by guards!

While definitely a traveler you had no idea where she was from, but a drunken kinship formed in your stomach. You were reminded of the lanes and how enforcers would harass the average person at home too and you would not stand for it here either.

”hey-“ you called out to the unbothered guards.

“HEY-“ you shouted as you approached more and more aggressively.

The guard turned around and palmed you on the chest, probably clocking the slurring of your words.

”don't get involved; demacian business”

”What's the problem?”

”the problem is this here is a noxian-“

”what?! No!” You hastily lied. “ that's my friend!”

This caused the soldier to eye you suspiciously.

’welp this isn’t going to work.’

You hastily and heavily clocked the man into unconsciousness causing the other to turn. Luckily for you the red haired woman seemed to know how to handle herself as well and chopped the distracted man in the neck. Pressure point causing him to pass out.

”thank you for helping, even if i had it handled.” She smirked slyly with crossed arms

”oh-!” You awkwardly laugh while rubbing the back of your head in embarrassment.

the adrenaline half sobered you.

”sorry- the names [y/n] by the way.” you stuck a hand out. The red haired woman gave it a firm grasp.

”Katherine”

”well,,, Katherine,,it's nice to meet you.” You winked then continued.

“Do you have anywhere to lay-low?” You shook your still sore hand.

”I may have an idea. I hope you can keep up.” ‘Katherine’ took off fleet of foot with you in tow.

______

‘Katherine’ seemed to take you off the path into an abandoned windmill. It seemed that she had camped here for a while as it actually looked quite comfy.

”whoa sick hideout-“

”It's camp.” she coolly leaned against the wall only to slip a bit.

hearing you giggle in response she decided to change the subject.

”You know you're very spirited. You could be a very good noxian.” She looked at you fondly.

”i'll think about it.” Understanding the worded gesture.

______

you two chatted for a while and the physical distance faded between you two. You found yourselves sitting next to each other, both your hands brushed the others but neither bothered to move.

you learned in a slip up that her real name was katarina and that she was on business.

Also that she was very fond of the inventions of both piltover and zuan. you swear she was humoring you but she'd give you a flirty look and the thoughts of doubt would leave your head.

the alcohol long since worn off when she leaned in and asked “may i?” Before closing the distance. Nodding you two shared a small kiss, which briefly deepened before parting. An apology for the bad news to come.

”by the way you should leave demacia. It’s going to get strict to strangers in the coming month.”

you tried not to think the nature of her business and heeded her warning soon after parting ways.

#katarina x reader #katarina du couteau x reader #my fics #league x reader

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yzafre · 4 months ago

Text

we're flying above the valley below | Finale

AO3

First | Previous

Kairi’s heart ached as she watched Naminé crumple. Beside her, Sora started forward, but Riku caught him by the shoulder, shaking his head.

“No - this... isn’t for us.”

“But,” Sora stopped, swallowed, glancing back and forth between the two curled into each other and the sky above, “If they stay here, they’ll be out in the open if Xehanort’s magic goes off.”

Kairi cast her gaze up at the sky, taking in the thickening plumes of magic, the condensing mass of power above the highest spire of rock. Something dark flitted between it all, slowly arcing its way towards Xehanort.

Or, she realized, perhaps it was Xehanort.

After all, the youngest of the Organization had escaped her before she could finish him.

“You guys go ahead,” she said, “I just spotted the younger Xehanort – I'll deal with him, then come down to retrieve Naminé and Hitoshi. It shouldn’t take long.”

“You sure?” Riku asked.

“Yes,” she said, “I’m finishing this.”

Sora nodded, “Then, we’ll leave it to you.”

As they flew off, she craned her head back, planning her path, setting her timing. She started low – wide loops around the jagged cliff Naminé and Hitoshi were on, biding her time – and then, when the moment was right, she swooped down, gathering momentum to arc back up and streak into the sky.

Just as her upward momentum began to die, she reeled back, storing up strength, then flung the Keyblade up. It flew forward with blinding speed, nearly clipping Xehanort if he hadn’t twitched out of the way – but that was fine. When it was inches past his face, she grasped the connection between her and her Key and tugged, pulling herself through space to wrap a hand around the hilt and twist, slamming her blade into his stomach and baring both of them down.

The wind whistled past her ears as they fell; disoriented, he didn’t have time to react at the speed they were going. Kairi kept her wings pinned back even as they hurtled ever closer to the ground below. Almost there – almost, almost, almost – now!

At the last moment, she spread her wings, air catching underneath them immediately, if a bit painfully, arresting her momentum just enough for her to angle off and avoid collision. Xehanort wasn’t’ so lucky.

A plume of dust went up from where he landed. The waters rising through the cracked earth below hadn’t made it this far, though the nearby cliffs were fused with the strange white stair-stepping features, glinting stone pavement creeping across the ground from their edges.

This close, they almost looked like buildings.

Just as she touched down, Xehanort levered himself up with a groan that quickly turned into a snarl.

“You,” he hissed, “Have caused me far too many problems.”

“Well. This will be the last.”

His face twisted in anger, and he lunged.

Objectively, Xehanort was stronger than her.

Oh, not as much as he had been back at the start of this Journey. There was no teacher like experience, and she had grown fast. But he was stronger.

But he was also carrying wounds from Terra’s armor, who was stronger than both of them still.

He was weak, and he was faltering – and on one lunge forward, his legs gave out, and he hit the dirt, Dark smoke beginning to drift off his form. Despite how he struggled to get up, it was clear he was through.

“You - you think this means anything?” he says, “I'm only one version of myself – I'll just go back, and start us on the is path once more. Look.”

He pointed to the sky, where the Dark sphere of magic beneath Kingdom Hearts was reaching critical mass. Now that she was paying attention, the crackle of energy in the air was more than just adrenaline. It was the very power of that magic beginning to press down on them.

Xehanort grinned, eyes burning through the Darkness that had nearly consumed him, “Maybe I won’t get to see it now – but someday, I’ll make it here again. And I will succeed.”

If Kairi wanted to respond, she didn’t get the chance – his body finally gave out, and he faded away.

She stared at the place where he vanished for several long moments, before shaking the strange prickling unease off. Her job was done – she needed to get to Naminé.

On the way back, her eyes were constantly drawn up to that condensing magic, the dense blaze falling through the sky around it. At this point, there was no way she could make it up there. She was stuck down here, with nothing she could do again.

Sighing, she let her gaze wander down, where it caught on a group of figures milling about agitatedly below, in the shadow of the great pillar.

Oh – the Princesses. It was easy to forget, in all the fighting, but that was why they came here in the first place.

Maybe... there was something she could do.

Once they managed to find some kind of equilibrium, Terra, Aqua, and Ventus took to the sky, escaping the earthquakes that shook the ground with increasing frequency. The situation looked much worse when Terra wasn’t seeing it through the haze of someone else’s eyes.

They met up with four others – a mouse, a red-head, a young girl, and a kid that looked shockingly like Ventus – as they circled the land. It took some searching, but they managed to find stable ground on one of the growing white peaks, landing on a clearing paved with what looked like three different types of stone and surrounded by structures that might pass for buildings, if the only buildings you’d ever seen were in an impressionist painting.

“You’re all okay,” Ventus said, relieved, “You all defeated your opponents, then?”

The Mouse shook his head, “I lost track of Marluxia, actually. Though, I don’t think he can make more trouble at this point.”

The red-half barked a laugh, “Oh, you’d be surprised.”

“So, all that’s left is Xehanort, then?” Aqua asked, and they all turned to survey the world, in all its damaged glory.

You’d never recognize the Keyblade Graveyard as it was now. The plateaus were crumbling, with strange, tiered peaks breaking through them, dotted with spiraling trails and ruined buildings that almost reminded Terra of the Land of Departure. At the very bottom, water seeped up through the growing cracks in the world, flooding the valleys and slowly turning each peak into its own island, the wasteland converting into an ocean world.

The sky, in contrast, was nearly on fire, dark plumes of magic thick as clouds, hanging low in the sky, threatening to burn anyone moving through the airways.

“Yeah, there’s no way we’re getting up there,” the red-head said.

“But we have to,” said the kid that looked like Ven, “Sora said, if that attack goes off, everything below it gets decimated. If they can’t stop it, we’re dead.”

“Maybe not,” Ven said. Terra turned to him, wondering what he saw – but Ven wasn’t looking up, he was looking down, a strange light in his eyes as he stared at water.

“What do you mean, Ven?” Aqua asked.

Ventus pointed towards the horizon, tracing an invisible line between the peak forming around the pillar Xehanort stood on and the water below.

“The reflection – it's wrong.”

Frowning, Terra turned to squint down at the water. At first, he didn’t see what Ventus obviously did, but no, there was a hint, there, the shadow in the water flaring out the deeper it went, curving in elaborate flourishes.

“Down there,” Ventus said, voice almost hazy, “We can ride it out down there.”

“Are you sure?” Aqua asked.

“Yeah,” Ven said, finally turning away from the water, “Trust me.”

Aqua pursed her lips for a long moment, then nodded.

“Alright, we’ll follow your lead, Ven,” Mickey said.

“Woah, woah, woah,” the red-head protested, “I never agreed to go for a swim!”

“Would you rather take your chances up here?” the black-haired girl asked, and he subsided.

The shift happened in three phases:

First: breaking through the surface tension and diving into the water. It was deeper than it should be. The ground that once stood there was seemingly missing, instead giving way to a bottomless drop below.

Second: a twist in gravity. They couldn’t have swum down more than thrice his height before there was a popping and swirling in his ear, and any sense of direction left him. He spun, disoriented, until there was another pop and the concept of up was suddenly re-established.

Third: they passed through another kind of barrier that rippled across his skin like surface tension, and suddenly they were climbing out on to the steps of a tower, easily breathing though water still surrounded them.

“Isn’t this the place you - “ Someone started, and at first Terra thought it was Ven, but then came the reply - “Yeah.” - and no, that was Ventus. The first was the boy that looked so much like him.

“Come on,” Ven said, voice uncharacteristically solemn, heart giving off a steady beat of – aching – longing – loss – and headed in.

Terra and Aqua, following close behind, exchanged a glance and a feeling of confusion-concern-care.

Ven led them through a small side entrance, through waterworks and machinery, up several flights of stairs. The place held a strange sense of unreality – many aspects blurred over and indistinct, except where they weren’t, where they were sharp and almost hyper-realistic. Others shifted from impressionistic to realistic, becoming clear in the wake of Ventus’ gaze, as if his attention made them real.

They continued until they came to a landing where he paused, body oriented to the next flight up before he shook his head, abruptly pivoting to the side.

“In here,” he said, staring up at the large, ornate doors, “The lifeboats are in here.”

Ventus, Terra, Aqua. Axel, Roxas, Xion. Mickey. Seven people.

Seven lifeboats.

If they were there – would they be there? He remembered some missing, and then they all took the rest, and -

And this place wasn’t supposed to exist anymore, either. Nothing but a memory.

Yet here they were.

He shoved the heavy door open, shadowed memories sharpening the moment he saw the vaulted ceilings, the pipes and machinery, the pods, the world sharpening into reality with them.

It was so over-whelming he was late to note the man standing over the center pod, back to them.

“So you, too, were drawn here,” he said, and Ventus was seized by – pink hair and bright eyes and hands around his throat and grief and crumpling and forgiveness and darkness bursting and -

And his name remained stuck on the tip of his tongue, just out of reach.

“It’s strange. I have no memory of this place, and yet... something in me aches,” he continued, chuckling darkly, “That’s not supposed to be possible, either. And I can’t help but think... this is all your fault.”

Marluxia lunged, scythe cutting through the air. Ventus met him with solid defense – one, two, three – on the fourth, Marluxia froze up, muscles seizing, before he dropped to the floor, dark smoke wafting off him.

“Lauriam!” The name punched out of Ventus, agonized, the weight of it driving him to his knees beside his old friend.

“Lauriam,” Marluxia repeated, as if relishing the taste of his name, “Oh. I see. It’s all starting to come back to me, now.”

Ventus held him tighter, pressing his mouth into a tight line to try and suppress the quivering in his jaw, swallowing down the lump in his throat. Not that it mattered. Lauriam kept fading in his hands, growing lighter and lighter.

“Lauriam, they’re gone. It’s all gone. We’re all that’s left.”

“Well, I should hope so,” Lauriam said, “I didn’t drag you all the way to that lifeboat for you not to make it out. Although, ending up in another Keyblade war wasn’t what I planned, either.”

A laugh forced its way painfully through the tightness in Ven’s chest, “We did a bad job running from it.”

“Yeah. Maybe... we’ll do better, this time.”

“Maybe.”

Lauriam finished fading with a bittersweet laugh, and all that was left was the distant grinding of machinery.

“Ven?” Aqua called.

Bracing himself, Ventus stood, turning back to them. Terra and Aqua’s hearts chased him with concern, but right now he – he couldn’t…

“Okay. These pods can ride out anything. Everyone get in.“

One after the other, they climbed into the pods. He could see the uncertainty in many of them, but – what else could they do?

Finally, they were all in place. Ventus just managed to close the lid when the world began to shake.

Darkness exploded out in a wave across the world. It ripped through the earth, opening great fissures, tearing the great cliffs and mountains asunder, before it began to tear into the rubble as well.

Darkness exploded out in a wave across the world, and Sora despaired – they weren’t fast enough, they weren’t strong enough – he could only hope Roxas had passed his message on and the others had fled to one of the other worlds hanging in his sky -

A wave of Light chased after the Darkness. It spread like a rainbow ribbon, twining itself around the Dark magic, ensuring it, caging it, stopping its spread. The two warred against each other, fed off each other, leading the Darkness to turn on its opposite rather than the world around it.

“What?” Xehanort snarled.

“Sora, look!”

Sora turned, looking where Riku was pointing. On a still-intact peak next to him, a group of figures stood in a circle, Light pouring off them and spilling into the sky.

“The Princesses of Heart,” Riku breathed, “They’re holding off the Darkness.”

“Yes,” Xehanort said, “They are indeed holding it off – but, they are just holding it off. I will simply have to remove this obstacle myself.”

“No!”

Xehanort spread his wings, and Sora and Riku moved as one.

The three met in the middle. Sora and Riku caught the χ-blade in between their two Keys, the Kingdom Keys sparking together and ringing like a chime. Light burst out, blinding them, burning at Sora’s hands till he flinched and let go. Riku flinched beside him as well, all of them pulling back and away.

Sora cracked his eyes open cautiously as the Light faded, then gasped, eyes going wide.

“What?” Xehanort exclaimed, “Impossible!”

Hovering between them was a second χ-blade, an exact mirror of Xehanort’s but for the Keys making up the guard, which were color-shifted to match the ones Sora and Riku wielded.

“A heart of pure darkness, and a heart of pure light,” Riku said quietly. “It wasn’t people. It was the hearts of the realms.”

Hesitantly, Riku reached out, wrapping a hand around the hilt. It sent a shiver down Sora’s spine, feeling the touch as if it was his own Key, suddenly becoming aware of the second star taking up space in his chest. He could feel Kairi in the distance, faintly marveling at its presence beneath her focus on her work with the Princesses.

“Can we use this to stop Kingdom Hearts?” Sora asked.

“No,” Xehanort snarled, “I will not be stopped now, not at this juncture! Kingdom Hearts, hear my plea!”

Bright beams of light pierced down to halo Xehanort, slowly forming a door that engulfed him, the doors immediately beginning to swing close.

“No, you don’t!”

Riku thrust their χ-blade forward, a beam of light connecting the tip to the door, holding it open and tethered to reality.

“Sora, go!”

“But - !”

There was a rumble. The sky behind Kingdom Hearts began to crack, deep, dark fissures spreading across the expanse, dripping heartless down onto the ravaged world below. The rainbow Light twined like a lattice through the air stretched up, creating a barrier to contain them within this world – though trapping them here with the heartless as well.

“Sora, you have to!” Riku said. “I can’t keep this up forever, and the heartless will just keep coming.”

“But what if the heartless reach you?”

“I can help with that,” a new voice cut in.

“Huh?”

Hitoshi appeared over the edge of the cliff, pausing a moment to help Naminé up behind him.

“Hitoshi,” Riku said, while Sora watched him warily, trying to settle the sudden clenching in his stomach, “Got your head on straight?”

“Heh. Yeah, got all the pieces lined back up, with a little help. Sorry, about before. Let me pay it back to you. I’ll keep the heartless away, so hero-boy here can go take care of business.”

“But… that’s a lot of heartless,” Sora said, “And we don’t know what happened to the others. Can you really take all of them?”

Hitoshi paused, confidence warring with uncertainty on his face, but then – like a sign from above, the answer came. Trumpets echoed through the air; Sora’s head snapped around. Above, a glowing host descended from the sky, flying down in a procession from the closest world, led by a glowing figure on a Pegasus.

“Is that… Hercules?” Sora gasped.

Behin him, one of the host raised its trumpet once more, blowing a loud, long note. Hercules raised his sword, and the whole crowd began to yell, flying down as one to clash against the Heartless.

A birdcall shrieked through the air. It took a second to spot, but a giant raptor streaked through the sky, sharp talons tearing through all heartless in its way as it made a b-line for the princesses, transforming into a large, heavy-set man who stumbled into a run the moment he was in contact with the ground.

Behind Sora, cannon-fire. He spun sharply, wings flaring to regain balance. A large pirate ship flew through the air, Peter Pan flying circles around the mast, easily spotted with the glowing ball of sparkles hovering about his head.

And – there was Genie, throwing magic around wildly, Aladin just behind him on the flying carpet. There, a streak of red flew through it all, Hiro clinging to Baymax’s back. Everywhere, people descended from the worlds hanging in the sky, joining the fight.

“Sora, look!” Naminé said, grabbing his shoulder. He followed where she was pointing to see two gummi ships streaking down, lasers blasting. The one leading the charge, he would know anywhere.

As the ships banked into a sharp turn, figures began emerging from them – a trio of corvids flying in sync, spiraling down to the ground below, another pair in black making a risky, flightless jump and plummeting into the fight, a final set flying high above, slowly arcing their way towards Sora.

As they approached, Sora began to recognize them.

“Donald, Goofy!” Sora called, rushing forward, pulling them into a tight hug, “What are you doing here?”

“Well,” Goofy said, mussing Sora’s spikes, “When that there Kingdom Hearts appeared in the sky, along with the other worlds, we thought maybe something had gone wrong.”

Donald nodded imperiously, “We knew you needed help, so we decided to round up all your friends.”

“But, what about the World Order?” Sora wondered.

“Pah! Forget the World Order,” Donald blustered. “What does it matter when there might not be a world soon?”

“It also doesn’t mean much when the worlds are all hanging in the sky, right where they can see each other,” Goofy teased.

“Well, that covers that,” Hitoshi said, standing on the edge and peering out at the battle below, “Naminé and I can make sure any that escape that army don’t interrupt Riku. So, Sora. Looks like you’ve got a job to do.”

“Right!”

He turned heading towards the door – pausing when footsteps followed behind him. Peering over his shoulder, he found Donald and Goofy on his heel.

“Guys?” he asked.

“What? You didn’t think we’d leave you to fight alone?” Donald asked.

“Just like old times,” Goofy added, placing his hand out, Donald quickly stacking his hand on the pile, “All for one...”

Heart aching and over-full with affection, Sora placed his hand on top, grinning to fight back the tears.

“And one for all!”

Sending one last wave of affection and determination to his Flightmates, locking eyes with Riku once more time, Sora plunged through the door.

Sora stepped onto a moonlit beach. The wind whispered over the trees in the center of the island, a soft counterpoint to the waves lapping gently against the shore. Across the water, Kingdom Hearts hung big and bright against a velvet, starless sky.

Destiny Islands.

The nostalgia hit hard, and he reached with his heart for Riku and Kairi. Instead, he hit some sort of barrier; he could feel their tether, still connecting him, but it was like they were shut off in another room, their presence but a distant murmur.

Swallowing down his unease, he took a deep breath, letting his wings bloom from his breath, stretch; they’d already given him everything he needed.

They had their part to play; it was time for him to play his.

There was a silhouette, standing at the edge of the water, χ-blade in hand. Sora approached slowly, Donald and Goofy silent behind him, until he stood side-by-side with Xehanort, staring out at the waves. For just a moment, if he only looked through the corner of his eyes, it was as if a young boy was standing next to him, gazing longingly at the open horizon.

The familiarity hurt.

Then Xehanort sighed, head tipping back, and the illusion broke.

“How strange, that at the end of all things, I would come back to this place. And yet, how fitting.”

“Is it really that surprising, that you would go home at the end?’ Sora wondered.

“Home?” Xehanort scoffed, “This place was a prison. My destiny was always to leave it behind. And now, after all these decades, I am on the cusp of achieving my dreams.”

Sora took in a deep breath.

“I can’t let you go through with this. I’m going to stop you.”

“Hm,” Xehanort ducked his head with a chuckle, turning to pace away, “You, and what weapon? In forming your χ-blade, you forfeited your Key to the Kingdom – the only thing that made you special.”

....ah.

Sora paused, reaching for the power in his heart, stomach swooping. The first thing he found was the blazing beacon of his χ-blade, Riku’s presence tangled up in it. It sparkled, familiar and wonderful, but distant. Disconnected. It was his, but it wasn’t a part of himself – there was something about it that was...

He kept looking, digging into the shadows, and there it was – another light, smaller but warm, as familiar as his own hand. He touched it, and his chest lit up, and he could feel it with every breath.

The same energy that had brought him this far – the star that had sparked in his chest all that time ago, desperate and alone in Hallow Bastion – still with him, even when the Kingdom Key was gone.

He held a hand out, and Light answered. It spilled from his palm, dancing through the air till it filled the vague outline of a Key, stray Sparks curling in little arcs around it. It shimmered through his veins, steady even as it laughed in anticipation – who will we be next?

Anything. Everything. A thousand possible futures, a thousand possible shapes, waiting for him to settle. To choose.

Xehanort sneered at the formless Light.

“You think you can face me with an unforged Key?”

“I think I’m going to try,” Sora answered.

“And besides – he's not alone!” Goofy said, stepping up beside him.

“Yeah!” Donald added, “We’re here, too – there's three of us, and only one of you!”

“Well, then. I’d say that makes it about even.”

And with a wide, wicked grin, Xehanort attacked.

The fight wasn’t going well.

The Light – his Light, the star in his heart that supported his Key – wanted to help so bad, gave Sora everything it had, but -

Without a settled form, it could only do so much.

They were flagging, all of them. Donald stumbled, wavered; Xehanort moved in to take advantage; Goofy guarded, a last-minute maneuver, but the force of the blow sent his shield flying back; Xehanort wound back to follow up.

Sora caught the blow with his weapon, and the Light shattered.

“Well,” Xehanort said, “I did warn you.”

Things went quickly, after that.

Sora tried to evade until he could spark the Light again – but he didn’t have Ventus’ speed.

Sora tried to break through Xehanort’s guard, to find a way to fight with just his own body – but he didn’t have Xion’s martial grace.

Sora tried to call on his magic, to fight from a distance – but he didn’t have Roxas’ deft manipulation of spells.

A storm whipped up around them, and Destiny Islands began to crumble. Still, Xehanort advanced.

First Donald was knocked away, then Goofy, chasms opening up between them, the wild winds whipping away the ground they stood on, so it was just Sora and Xehanort left in the heart of it all. Darkness swirled around Kingdom Hearts, turning and turning, growing all encompassing, eating away at the edges of the world, pulling it away like gravity, consuming more and more of the land left behind.

Still, Xehanort advanced.

Sora retreated, step by step – until he felt the ground give beneath his heels. Where could he go? He spread his wings, looking to the sky – Xehanort's wings bristled behind him threateningly, the winds howling louder around him.

This can’t be the end.

Above, Kingdom Hearts shone bright.

Please! Someone, anyone, I need help!

“This is the end,” Xehanort said, raising the χ-blade high, “You have no weapon, and no allies – utterly alone and useless.”

Sora breathed, and knew the lie for what it was.

Maybe none of them could reach him here – maybe even those who came into fight with him couldn’t keep up. But he had every memory and every lesson they’d ever taught him engraved in his heart, carrying him through. No matter what happened next, nothing could erase that.

“I’m never alone.”

Light.

Kingdom Hearts flared, and a hundred stars burst to light in Answer around Sora. They floated out of his pockets, circling around him like little moons – Keychains, flashing in the light, every memory of every world he’d ever visited.

Faster and faster they whirled, soaking in the Light shining down on them, condensing closer and closer till all their lights merged and then – in one last flash, they burst out –

In their wake they left a gleaming, glittering Key: three thin steel prongs rising from where they wrapped around the heart-shaped decoration in the hilt, glowing red filigree wrapping through the blades until they met the elegant silver curves and points of the teeth, containing their own matching heart in the design.

Sora, a hundred voices whispered, their faith and hope flooding his heart, We’re here.

Breathless, Sora reached out, taking their love in his hands. With this, he had a chance.

With this, he could fight.

When everything stopped shaking and the movement of the lifeboats reduced to gentle rocking, when a dim light could be seen through the small windows on the door, when they opened the pods and pulled themselves out, the world remained. It was damaged, perhaps beyond repair – the cracked earth was scattered into crumbling chunks, floating in the water and the sky, interspersed between scattered, ruptured hills of white ruins – but it remained.

Terra sucked in a sharp breath.

“Terra?” Aqua asked.

“Sorry, it’s just – doesn't it look a bit like home?”

Ventus hummed thoughtfully, “I guess, if you squint. Do you think the Land of Departure was a part of a land like that, once?”

“But, how did it get like that?” Mickey wondered

“Probably something just like this,” Aqua said, “Look.”

She pointed, and they all looked out, past the broken landscape to the figures moving between it all: thousands of heartless, and hundreds of people, all working together to fight them.

“The people from all the worlds,” Xion breathed, “They’re all here, fighting.”

“Well, we better go and help,” Axel sighed, “Fighting a battle like this without a Keyblade isn’t much fun – trust me, I was in their position very recently."

“Considering I took my Keyblade back, I think you’re in that position again now,” Roxas observed.

“Enough talking,” Aqua said, spreading her wings, “It’s time to fight.”

One after the other, they took off after her, weapons flashing into their hands as they streamed into the battle like shooting stars.

They separated quickly, separating naturally into groups, with Mickey flitting off on his own.

“Jeez, these guys are never-ending,” Axel groused, “At this point it’s a battle of attrition, and I don’t know how long we can keep this up.”

“Sora said he had a plan,” Roxas insisted, gesturing out and dropping an Aerora in the middle of the swarm, Xion darting in to cut through the gathered heartless, “We just have to trust him.”

“Well, hopefully Sora hurries up.”

A blast of magic barreled through a row of heartless like bowling pins, a floating blue man bouncing in excitedly.

“Well, hey, you guys know Sora, too? How fun, so do – “ he cut off abruptly, pointing down at them with a dramatic gasp, “Disappearing guy?! And his disappearing friend?!”

Roxas turned, waving sheepishly at Genie, who stared with his jaw dropped, pointing back and forth between Roxas and Xion.

“Genie, you know these guys?” Aladdin asked, swooping in on the flying carpet.

“I do!” Genie exclaimed, turning abruptly in the air, fireworks popping in the air around him and – not so coincidentally – taking out some of the encroaching heartless, “I’ve met him twice! The first time that carpet ran off and insisted he was our friend, and the second! Well, the second he gave the advice that led to me coming to talk to you and Jasmine.”

“Hey, Roxas,” Axel muttered, watching the desert-world residents drift off into their own conversation, “You know the point was to not be seen while on missions, right?”

“I tried,” Roxas sighed, “It just... never worked out.”

“How many other people did you meet?”

“Well, you remember the fairy lady on that water world,” Roxas said, pausing in his attack to point up at the giant pirate ship flying through the sky, “And then... oh, there was the world with all the competitions.”

He pointed up towards one of the gleaming worlds above, where the glowing, toga-wearing warriors were streaming from, “That one. Actually, the guy there told me to visit again, but... I guess I never did.”

“You’ll have to introduce us when this was all over,” Xion said, “Now both of you stop lazing about and come help me!”

“Right!”

“Sorry, Xion!”

“Wait, Ventus?”

Ventus stumbled to a stop, turning at the call of his name.

“Ventus, watch out!” Aqua said, darting in to cut down a heartless trying to take advantage of his distraction, “Pay attention! This is no time for distraction.”

“Sorry! But someone was calling me.”

They both looked to the side, meeting the startled eyes of Hercules, staring at them from across the field. Shaking his head, he leaped from the back of the Pegasus he was riding, hefting his shield to smash his way towards them.

“Wow, I can’t believe it’s you! It’s been 10 years and you – you haven’t aged a day!” Shaking his head, he turned his head to Aqua, “And we’ve met too, haven’t we? What was the name?”

“Aqua,” she answered, “We did meet, briefly.”

Hercules laughed breathlessly, “You all disappeared so quickly – we never knew what happened to you. What a place to run into you again!”

Ventus chuckled, scrubbing a hand through his hair with a sheepish grin, “Yeah, well - “

“Hey! Are you guys talking, or fighting?” Terra called.

“Sorry! Wait for me!” Ventus called back, quickly darting after him, cutting through heartless as he went.

“It was good to see you again,” Aqua said, “But I need to join my Flight.”

“Right - right! We’ve got a fight to win – we can catch up afterwords?”

“Yeah. Good luck,” Aqua said, turning to fly off after Ventus.

“Good luck!” Hercules called after her.

She soared above the battle, cutting through the flying monsters that filled the sky, keeping an eye on her boys dancing through the chaos below. And it wasn’t just them – all across the battlefield, fighters from all worlds were joining in, holding off wave after wave of monsters.

It was funny. They’d always dreamed of being Keyblade Masters – her, and Terra, and Ven – going out and saving the world. But in the end, it didn’t come down to them at all. They were just one part of the bigger picture, and not even the most important one.

Still... that was no reason to slack off.

Tucking her wings in, she let herself spiral down towards the ground below, landing in a Grand splash of magic that rippled out through the heartless, clearing several feet around her. Springing to her feet, she sent her Flightmates a bright grin.

“Keep up, you two!”

Beyond Kingdom Hearts, at the end of all worlds, Sora and Xehanort clashed.

Blow after blow, their strength, their power, their will was pitted against each other, until, by some unseen cue, they leapt apart, each bringing up their Key, unleashing a beam of pure, unbridled energy. The two streams met in the middle, conflicting powers fighting to overcome one another.

Slowly, Sora began to slide back.

“Sora!”

Two pairs of hands caught him, warm on his shoulder. Donald, Goofy – he hadn’t seen them appear through the mists, but here they were, steadying him, adding their strength to his own. It spilled into his heart, flooded through his veins, wound around his hands, his key, tri-powered magic building and building until nothing could stand before it.

Xehanort faltered.

In the aftermath, he kneeled, leaning heavily on his χ-blade where it pierced into the ground trying desperately to stand.

“Why – how?”

“It’s over now – you lost!”

“No,” Xehanort growled, “I won’t accept defeat. Not this time. Kingdom Hearts….”

He stretched his hand out to the great Light above; Kingdom Hearts shone down impassively.

Sora shook his head, “What are you even trying to accomplish? What do you think is going to happen?”

“A purge,” Xehanort answered, “The world will be returned whence it started. The world began in Darkness, and from that Darkness came Light. From the Light came the people, and the people had hearts. Evil burgeoned in those hearts, begetting more Darkness. And that Darkness moved across the world like a plague. The Light, the symbol of the world’s hopes, was devoured by shadow. Leaving nothing but ruin – an utter failure.”

“You really think that?”

“Can you deny it? You’ve seen it, the corruption, creeping through every world, every heart. It consumes even this best - I won’t let it happen again.”

“So your answer is to destroy everything?” Sora protested.

“Such a world doesn’t deserve to exist. The first Light – the Light of Kingdom Hearts – it can give us a new start. An empty world, pure and bright.”

“…that’s not your decision to make.”

“Then whose was it?” Xehanort asked, though he did not wait for an answer, “We are stuck in an eternal cycle, that will only continue to pollute the world. Someone has to stop it – to stand up and dictate a new destiny.”

“Even if that’s right… it isn’t you. Destiny is beyond anyone’s control. If there’s someone to lead us into a new world… they have to accept that.”

Xehanort’s face twisted – a strange mix of frustration, disgust, and resignation.

He laughed, low and bitter, “You… make me think of an old friend. So, tell me. What is your answer?”

“I don’t have one,” Sora answered.

“Hah. And you think to criticize me? Your naivety – “

“But!” Sora interrupted, “I don’t need one, not really. Whatever future there is, it has to be one that everyone makes together. All I can do is my part. And maybe we’ll falter. Maybe it will hurt. But I won’t look away. I’ll face it, as many times as it takes.”

Their gazes met, silent in a standoff at the heart of all worlds, Kingdom Hearts standing in judgement.

Finally, Xehanort sighed, head dipping with the weight of it.

“Fine, then. I concede. The future is in your hands… Master Sora.”

Staggering to his feet, he pulled the χ-blade from the earth, offering it out, hilt first. Sora approached hesitantly, but the man didn’t move, simply tilting the weapon further in offering.

The moment the χ-blade changed hands, Kingdom Hearts lit up, beams of light falling down on Xehanort, piercing through him, fading him like a ghost until his body grew too thin to contain his heart. Free from its confines, it rose, joining the source of all hearts once more.

In the distance, a deep, sonorous bell began to ring.

“Do you hear that?” Sora asked.

“Yeah, but – where’s it coming from?” Goofy wondered.

“Who cares about that?” Donald snapped, “We gotta find a way out of here!”

“Right, we – “ Sora cut off as the ground beneath them rumbled. The small, floating remnant of the world beneath them shook, then stretched, the three of them being rapidly rocketed apart.

“Sora!”

“Donald! Goofy!”

Sora raced after them, but the land moved faster beneath his feet. He took to the skies, but they were lost to the mists, the storm having faded to a fog that closed in when he wasn’t looking.

Soon, he was alone. Just him, the Darkness, and Kingdom Hearts above.

“Donald? Goofy?” he called once more, but his words were swept away in the stillness. Instead, there was a hum, something below his hearing that he could feel in his bones.

Come closer, it whispered, Come here.

Come home.

Heart in his throat, he reached for his bonds. The gossamer threads still slipped through his fingers, the connection strained and stretched, nothing but a low murmur. But Riku and Kairi were there, their lights steady in the distance.

Yes. It was time to find his way home.

Tipping one wing down, he circled towards Kingdom Hearts till he could alight on the nothingness before it. The Light loomed above him, enormous, taking up his whole vision while the Darkness pressed in close behind.

And yet it was so cold.

Welcome, bearer of the Key, a voice whispered, light and silvery, winding its way into his lungs, Long have we waited for you. Fate and Our power are in your hands.

Sora swallowed.

“I’m not Xehanort. I don’t want to destroy everything.”

Our power is not limited to the unmaking of worlds, no matter what the Fallen thinks. Just as We can destroy, so We can create. You do not need to start anew to shape the world you desire: all of time and space are in your hands.

What did the Dream-Eater say, before – that it was not only space that was bending?

“You mean… I could change it all? Keep the heartless from ever attacking?

Yes.

Power settled on him like weights, like a predator’s gaze.

What will you choose, O Child of My Child? That light voice shivered up his spine, Will you take My power, and heal the world? Put everything back as it should be and undo it all – the hurting and the bleeding and the ripping apart?

Destiny Islands, whole and hale – to never be separated from his Flight, to never let the storm consume Riku. Or even further back – to change whatever fate caused Ven to seek refuge in his heart, to keep Aqua from ever getting lost.

To keep Xehanort from ever starting down his Dark path.

“No,” Sora said, low and slow but sure, “No, that’s not my choice.”

Then you choose to create the world anew? Another voice asked, deep and smooth, rippling from the nothing around him to vibrate through his bones, You who are beloved by the Child of My Child, you would wipe clean this destruction, and craft a more perfect world?

“No, that’s not it either.”

The air quivered, the Darkness curling curiously around the Light as cold beams shimmered across Sora’s face.

Then, what path do you take?

“I just… want to go home. Just as it is.”

You would leave things as they are? The Light asked, soft and tender and condemning, All those who have died, who have suffered from schemes and tricks and invasions. You have all Our power to save them, and you would do nothing?

“Everything that has happened… it’s been awful,” Sora said. “And we’ve hurt. But, we’ve also learned from it. We wouldn’t be who we are, if we’d walked a different path. Who am I to make that kind of choice for them?”

But what about the Darkness?The Dark hissed, suddenly tight around his chest, his throat, All the Heartless that have been unleashed in the world, that have been created through the arrogance of mortals? They will still be there, and they will always be a threat.

“Maybe,” Sora answered, “But no matter what we do, the Darkness will always be there. I’ve got that feeling that even if I undid it all, or made a new world… the Darkness would appear always, even if it was in a different form.”

The Dark uncurled from his shoulders, pooling up in the Light’s shadow, streaming off it like a cape.

“All this time, we haven’t been fighting for a new world, or to undo all his harm,” Sora explained, “We just… wanted a future together. So we fought the people trying to take it from us. That’s all. No matter what happens next, as long as we can face it together, I know we’ll be alright.”

Silence held the entire world still, before it released with a sigh, weight lifting off of Sora.

We hear your conviction, Bearer of the Heart of Light, Kingdom Hearts rumbled, its laughter skipping across his skin, Though, perhaps one who has bent time should not speak of calmly accepting the future.

Light beaded up along its surface like a drop of dew, growing until it fell under its own weight, dropping into the nothingness below. It splashed when it landed, the droplets multiplying and spreading before lifting back into the air, curling and shaping itself into a filigreed door.

Go forth, Beloved child. Open Your Door, and let Us sleep once more.

Your future is waiting.

Like the light of the moon eclipsed by the rising of the sun, Kingdom Hearts faded.

The Darkness faded first, the corona of shadows dripping Heartless into the world below slowly petering out. Then, the storm that heralded Kingdom Heart’s emergence calmed, the cloud barrier concealing the monolith once more. Finally, even the clouds themselves faded away to reveal a clear sky, the sun rising above the jagged horizon.

The night was over; the battle was theirs.

Without reinforcements, the horde of heartless finally began to thin. Eventually, they began to flee of their own will, popping away or merging into the shadows. They would emerge another day, just as they had always done, but for now – for now! Across the battlefield, cheers erupted, a hundred voices screaming their victory together.

High above, a door shimmered into existence, letting a young hero flutter into the sky.

Below, two heads snapped towards this emergence with unerring precision, quickly disengaging from the companions around them, spreading their wings and taking off.

They met in the sky, spiraling around each other in breathless laughter, their hearts, singing as one.

You’re here – you won!

Safe, you’re all safe.

We did it.

It’s over. It’s over. It’s over.

Later, they would have to face the heartless that escaped. Later, they would have to navigate the implications of a hundred worlds hanging in each other’s skies, in reach of one another as they had not been since times long past. Later, they would continue to unravel the consequences of their predecessors’ decisions.

But for now, it was time for reunions.

They Keyblade wielders and their friends all drifted together again, introductions that were missed in the chaos of Before finally being made.

“What now?” Riku asked, his arm a warm pressure where it pressed against Sora’s left, “We’ve been fighting for so long, I’m kind of at a loss.”

Kairi tipped her head into Sora’s shoulder, so close he could almost feel her the vibrations of her voice as she answered, “I guess... now we all go home.”

Sora watched as the other’s mingled – Ventus and Roxas dancing carefully around each other as they explained what they knew of their situation to a bemused Terra, Aqua studiously ignoring the way Xion watched her with curiosity, Axel constantly picking and teasing at his Flightmates, never going without touching them for long.

“I think," Sora said, “Maybe we’re all already there.”

Sora was born into a world where your heart had wings.

It didn’t always make things better, but in the end?

It was enough to lead him home.

#kh #kingdom hearts #fanfiction #wingfic #wrap your wings au #Yza writes a thing

0 notes

werewolfbansheelove · 9 months ago

Text

Funk

(I’m excluding all scenes with Sue and Will together because CRINGE!!! Also the sheet n things will be excluded.)

Artie, Kurt, Mercedes and Tina were walking down the hallway.

Mercedes: Is it just me, or does it feel like we have a real shot at Regionals next month?

Artie: The Ohio Show Choir chat rooms have all been buzzing about how Vocal Adrenaline has lost a step.

Kurt: I agree-- the judges know all of their tricks and now that we have Jesse, they’ve lost their best performer.

Rachel rush up to the four. Rachel: You guys have to come to the auditorium-- it’s an emergency!

They entered the auditorium where the rest of the New Directions were but what’s more shocking was that Vocal Adrenaline was in their stage and...

Rachel: Jesse? What are you doing up there with them?

Jesse: I’ve transferred back to Carmel High, Rachel. I’m sorry that it’s come to this, but you guys were awful to me. You never accepted me, you never listened to my clearly superior ideas.

Finn: Why are you here in our auditorium?

Jesse: The blogs and the chat rooms say that we’re finished, and that you guys are ripe to topple us. We just wanted to show you a something we came up with a few days ago to see if you agree with that assessment.

Bum, bum, bum (Jesse: Ooohh - Let’s go!)

Jesse: Steve walks wearily down the street with his brim pulled way down low Ain’t no sound but the sound of his feet. Machine guns ready to go, are you ready (Vocal Adrenaline Boys: Hey!). Are you ready for this, are you hanging on the edge of your seat? Out of the doorway the bullets rip to the sound of the beat.

Jesse with Vocal Adrenaline Girls: Yeah!

Vocal Adrenaline Boys (Jesse with Vocal Adrenaline Girls): Bum, bum, bum (Another one bites the dust) Bum, bum, bum (Another one bites the dust; And another one gone). And another one gone (Another one bites the dust, yeah) Hey, I’m gonna get you to

Jesse with Vocal Adrenaline (Vocal Adrenaline Girls): Another one bites the dust (Oooh, ohh!) (Vocal Adrenaline Boys: Yeeaah!)

Jesse (with Vocal Adrenaline): How do you think I’m gonna get along (without you when you’re gone?). You took me for everything that I had and (kicked me out on my own)

Jesse with Vocal Adrenaline Girls: Are you happy? Are you satisfied, how long can you stand the heat? Out of the doorway the bullets rip to the sound of the beat

Jesse with Vocal Adrenaline: Look Out!

Vocal Adrenaline Boys (Jesse with Vocal Adrenaline Girls): Bum, bum, bum (Another one bites the dust)

Giselle: Thanks for letting us borrow your auditorium, guys. It’s quaint.

–—–––

The kids walked down the hallway, quiet surprised and crushed.

Artie: It’s a Carmel High tradition. They psych out the competition a few weeks before the big show. They call it a funkification. Meaning they show us what they’ve got, and we spiral into a deep black funk.

Finn: Yeah. Yeah, we used to do the same thing to other football teams. You know, try and get inside their head before a big game, pull little pranks to intimidate them.

Puck: Yeah, well, the difference was our football team sucked. Those guys are golden.

Kurt: Come on, keep your heads up, guys. It’s going to take more than that to get us into a funk.

The club went to the choir room but was in shock as their choir room got TP.

They all started to clean up the mess, Vocal Adrenaline left.

Tina: I feel so violated. It’s like someone broke into our home.

Will: Look, it was just a lame little prank. And the fact that they’re trying to get to us means maybe we got them spooked.

Mercedes: Uh-uh, Mr. Shue. They aren’t afraid of anything. That number they did was fantastic. You know, which doesn’t make any sense. They had all that equipment. How did they even get in?

Sue (enter): I gave 'em all keys. Helped them do a sound check over the weekend. Hey, this way, fellas. Let’s punch out this wall here. They’ll pen up the space a little bit.

Will: Sue, what are you doing?

Sue: I can’t talk to you now, William. Drafting class is helping me redecorate around here. You see, I have Nationals over the weekend, and I expect to return with a comically large first place trophy for which I have absolutely no room in my trophy case. As soon as you hurry up and lose at Regionals, this choir room will become my official trophy annex. You know what it has to look like? Elvis' gold record room at Graceland. Except I’ll be wanting far fewer morbidly obese white women waddling around and crying.

Will: Sue, get out of my room.

Sue: Glee Clubbers, for you those of you whose hearing has not been damaged by massive doses of Acutane, listen up. In a few weeks, Glee Club will be finished. Now how do I know that? Well, I recently checked the odds with my Vegas bookie, who told me that you’re 40-1 underdogs at Regionals. You are going to lose, and your dreams will be crushed.

Will: Sue, can I see your trophy?

Sue: Sure, Will. Hope and dream.

Will (threw the trophy against the wall that made made everyone but Finn and Puck flinch or jump.): You dropped your trophy, Sue.

Sue: You know, for me, trophies are like herpes. You can try to get rid of them, but they just keep coming. You know why? Sue Sylvester has hourly flare-ups of burning, itchy, highly contagious talent. Enjoy your last few days here. This room is mine.

–——––

Will (enters the choir room, Rachel was sitting at the piano.): All right, guys, today I want to talk to you about regrets.Who has some?

Rachel: Giving my heart to Jesse, just to have it crushed like the stage floor at a performance of Stomp.

Quinn: Thinking "trust me" was a sensible birth control option.

Will: We all have them. I just finalized my divorce. I regret living in a relationship that wasn’t working. Letting her put me in these deep funks and not fighting back.

Santana: Besides creeping us out, why are you telling us this?

Will: Because if we lose to Vocal Adrenaline at Regionals, none of us are going to regret it. We will have given it our best shot and we won’t look back. But we will regret letting them get the best of us before the competition. Which is why we need to hit them back just like they hit us.

Quinn: So you want us to TP their choir room?

Will: Whatever the better, cooler version of that is. Like, uh, maybe-maybe we should steal their school statue.

Kurt: Their school statue is a giant bronze of a great white shark eating a seal pup. It weighs three tons.

Will: Okay, how about this one. All right, we get like...

Puck (voiceover): Everyone knows this is going to come down to me. Revenge, fear, the merciless infliction of pain. These are my kingdoms. First time I gave a wedgie to a kid, I was four years old. Finn and I may still hate each other for some reason, but we both know that defending the honor of New Directions is going to be our dirty job.

This leads to Puck and Finn lashing tires to the Range Rovers to all Vocal Adrenaline Kids. But leads them to Principal Figgins office.

Puck: Yeah, I did it. And I’m proud. All I did was step up and be a man. They got what was coming to them.

Shelby: A few of my students TP'd your choir room. You slashed the tires on the Range Rovers of all 26 of my performers. Those were gifts for our win at Sectionals. That’s 200 times 26 times four equals I don’t have a calculator.

Will: I’m sorry, you bought all your kids Range Rovers?

Shelby: We have a very active booster club.

Will: Look, nobody got hurt. It was a harmless prank.

SUE: That’s what they said about a young man in Chicago in 1871, who thought he’d play a harmless prank on the dairy cow of one Mrs. O'Leary. He successfully ignited its flatulence and a city burned, William. That young terrorist went on to become the first gay president of the United States, Abraham Lincoln.

Figgins: Enough. These students have committed a felony. They are hereby expelled.

Shelby: Look, I don’t want anyone to get expelled. I’m not going to press charges as long as you pay for the damage.

Will: You can take it out of the glee club budget. We don’t have that kind of money.

Finn: We’ll get jobs. Give us a month. We’ll pay you back, Ms. Corcoran, I promise.

Shelby: Fine.

Figgins: Ms. Corcoran, you are as wise and magnanimous as you are beautiful.

Shelby levees but Will whispered. Will: Thank you.

Sue: Well, you just can’t win, can you, William? You never have, and you never will.

––—–—–

Will wrote the ‘Funk’ on the whiteboard in Glee.

Will: Funk. Use it in a sentence. Come on. Rachel.

Rachel (sadly): This cheese smells funky.

Puck: That’s because it’s "from-unda" cheese.

Rachel: Shut it, Puckerman!

Will: Okay, okay. I was thinking more along the lines of Vocal Adrenaline has sure put us all in a funk.

Kurt: I’m so depressed, I’ve worn the same outfit twice this week.

Will: What if I told you I knew how we could shove it right back down their throats? New Directions is about to make their funk the P-Funk. We are going to get funked up. The only way to do that is to beat them at Regionals. Vocal Adrenaline has never once done a funk number. They’re a machine, a collective, synthesized, soulless beat. Funk is soul meets anger. Its passion is in its emotion. And Vocal Adrenaline doesn’t perform with any. So you have your assignment. I want you guys to turn McKinley High into Funky town!

Mercedes: You guys can relax, I got this one covered.

Artie: Cool.

Quinn: Hold on a second. I-I want a chance to get funky, too.

Everyone laughed at Quinn especially Mercedes.

Mercedes: Good one, Quinn. It even sounds funny when you say it.

Quinn: You said funk was about soul and anger. I have plenty of both. Look at me. Look at my life. I’m furious!

Mercedes: Let’s be honest. When white people try to be funky, you end up with KC and the Sunshine Band. (She laughs)

Artie: I love "Boogie Shoes."

Quinn: Mercedes' racism aside, I will have something prepared tomorrow.

Will: All right, Quinn goes first. (Bell rings, Will looks at Rachel.) Rachel, can I see you

in my office?

In his office. Will: You seem to be taking this Jessie thing pretty hard.

Rachel (angrily): I want him to be eaten by a lion.

Will (sighs): Jessie, cared about you.

Rachel: No, he didn’t. Our entire relationship was just some diabolical plan. They knew if they broke my heart close enough to the competition, that I’d lose my will to live, and then New Directions would have no chance at winning Regionals. It’s textbook; You destroy the heart of the team's heart and you destroy the team.

Will (voiceover): Sandy told me how to beat Vocal Adrenaline, and now Rachel was inadvertently telling me how to beat my other nemesis. Suddenly, I wasn’t feeling nearly as depressed.

——––—

In the choir room, it was time for Quinn’s performance.

Will: Okay, Quinn, it’s your day to show us your funky side. So, take it away.

Quinn: For some of us just simply getting to class takes a little bit longer. When you’re pregnant, you’re responsible for two lives. And you’re walking down the hallway oppressed by the man.

Mercedes (mumbles): Oh, my goodness, she is not about to go there.

Quinn: Hearing people call you fat. Sometimes it hurts. Sometimes you have to stop and hold that precious life and say no.

Artie: This is offensive. Who are these girls?

Quinn: We’re the "Unwed Mothership Connection". And that’s what we’re here to sing about.

Quinn: This is a man's world, this is a man's world. But it wouldn’t be nothing, nothing, without a woman or a girl.

Quinn with Unwed Mothership Connection harmonizing: You see, Man made the cars to take us over the road. Man made the train to carry the heavy load, man made electric light to take us out the dark. Man made the boat for the water, like Noah made the ark.

This is a man's, man's, man's world, but it wouldn’t be nothing, nothing. Without a woman or a girl (Unwed Mothership Connection: Without a woman or a girl)

Quinn with Unwed Mothership Connection: Man thinks about the little baby girls and the baby boys. And after man make everything, everything he can. Do you know that man makes money? (Unwed Mothership Connection: He makes money). To buy from other man (Unwed Mothership Connection: To buy from other man)

Quinn with Unwed Mothership Connection:

This is a man's world

Quinn (Unwed Mothership Connection): But it would be nothing, nothing, Not a one little thing (Nothing, nothing). Without a woman or a girl. He’s lost (Huh-uh) in the wilderness, (oh) He’s lost (Ooh) in betterness. (Huh-uh) He’s lost, lost somewhere now in loneliness.

–——––

Will entered the school but saw Santana sobbing. Will: Santana, are you all right? What?

She ignored him and sat down on the floor, still crying.

Will them approached Kurt. Will: Kurt, what is going on around here?

Kurt (closed his locker.): Coach Sylvester won’t get out of bed. We haven’t had practice in days. I’m fine because I have Glee, but these girls have sort of lost it. No Nationals means that four of the girls will lose their college scholarships. The rest are just depressed and confused.

Like some Cheerios had their hair all messed up. Brittany was walking past clinging onto Jacob Ben Israel who was weirded out. Brittany: Please, please, love me, please.

Kurt: It’s really hard to feel bad for Sue Sylvester, she doesn’t need another trophy but some of these girls, they really do.

––——–—

In the choir room, Puck and Finn were dressed up like gangsters.

Finn: Mr. Shue, Puck and I would like to show the class the true meaning of funk. With a little help from our special guest Mercedes.

She stood up and stand in between Finn and Puck. Artie, Kurt and Tina cheered for her.

Puck: Fasten your seat belts, people. It’s going to be a funky ride.

New Directions Guys: Uh-uh (Puck: Yeah; Can you feel it, baby?) Uh-uh bam, bam, bam, bam, bam, bam, bam, bam, bam, bam (Finn: Come on; swing it). Uh-uh bam, bam, bam, bam, bam, bam, bam, bam, bam, bam (Finn: Come on; swing it). Uh-uh bam, bam, bam, bam, bam, bam, bam, bam, bam, bam (Finn: Come on; swing it).

Puck: Yo, it's about that time to bring forth the rhythm, and the rhyme-. Imma get mine, so get yours I wanna see sweat comin' out your pores

Finn: On the house tip is how I'm swinging this, strictly hip hop, boy. I ain't singing this

Bringing this to the entire nation Black, white, red, brown, feel the vibration.

Finn and Puck: Come on; come on Feel it; feel it. Feel the vibration

Mercedes (New Directions Guys): It’s such a good vibration (Bam, bam, bam, bam, bam, bam, bam, bam, bam, bam). It’s such a sweet sensation (Bam, bam, bam, bam, bam, bam, bam, bam, bam, bam) It’s such a good vibration (Bam, bam, bam, bam, bam, bam, bam, bam, bam, bam). It’s such a sweet sensation (Bam, bam, bam, bam, bam, bam, bam, bam, bam, bam).

Puck: The vibration's good like Sunkist many wanna know who done this. Pucky Puck, and I’m here to move you Rhymes will groove you. And I’m here to prove to you (Santana, Rachel laughed). That we can party on the positive side and pump positive vibes. So come along for the ride making you feel the rhythm is my occupation. So feel the vibration.

Finn and Puck: Come on; come on Feel it; feel it. Feel the vibration

Puck: Finnie D, break it down...

Finn (New Directions Guys): Finnie D's on the back up (Bam, bam, bam, bam, bam). Drug free, so put the crack up (Bam, bam, bam, bam, bam) no need for speed (Bam, bam, bam, bam, bam) I’m anti d-r-u-g-g-i-e (Bam, bam, bam, bam, bam) (Rachel laughed). My body is healthy (Bam, bam, bam, bam, bam) and rhymes makes me wealthy (Bam, bam, bam, bam, bam). And the funky bunch helps me (Bam, bam, bam, bam, bam) to bring you a show with no intoxication (Bam, bam, bam, bam, bam) Come on; feel the vibration (Bam, bam, bam, bam, bam) (Everyone clapped along with the beat.) Yeah can you feel it, baby? I can too.

Will: All right. Great job, guys, but that’s not funk. I mean, the group is called Marky Mark and the Funky Bunch, but that is a rap song.

Puck: A kick-butt old school rap song.

Artie: Does it really matter, Mr. Shue? We’re so clinically depressed, we’re doing the wrong songs. We’re in a deeper funk than ever.

–——–—

Quinn was in a classroom, all alone then Mercedes entered sitting across her.

Quinn: Mercedes, I'm so sorry.

Mercedes: You may not be a minority, but you certainly get how it feels sometimes.

Quinn: For nine months. You’ve had to deal with this your whole life. People making assumptions, calling you names. I seriously can’t understand why don’t feel like yelling at people all the time.

Mervedes: What’s the point in getting angry?

Quinn: Because it’s infuriating. I hate all the looks at school. Don’t even get me started on Puck's mom.

Mercedes: You’re not angry. You’re hurt. You just need someplace safe where you can dig through all that rage. Get to the pain beneath it. So it’s decided. Saturday you move out of Puck's house and you move in with me. (Quinn looked at her, surprised.) I already talked to my mom about it. My brother went off to college and we have an extra room.

Quinn: Mercedes... she was so honored.

Mercedes: It’s cool. Us sisters got to stick together, right?

They fist bumped but Quinn slowly didn’t make it boom. But they both laughing softly.

—––—–—

Rachel walked down some stairs as her cell phone rings. She answered it. Rachel: Hello.

Jesse: Meet me out in the parking lot.

Rachel went outside to the parking lot where she saw Jesse. She ran up to him missing a smirk on his face, where Vocal Adrenaline throws eggs at her.

They all laugh at her.

Giselle: I hear you’re a vegan, Berry. The souls of those poor egg fetuses are all on your conscience now.

Vocal Adrenaline all laughs.

Giselle: Do it, Jesse. (Jesse had a eye in his hand.) Are you with us or not?

Rachel: Do it. Break it like you broke my heart.

Jesse: I loved you. He smashed the egg against Rachel’s forehead, letting the yoke drip down her face. Vocal Adrenaline got in their vehicles.

–——––—

Rachel had changed her outfit and told everyone what happened to her.

Rachel: Now nightmares of all of the mothers of the little baby chicks coming after me for revenge.

Puck: Oh, this is bull! Finn, Mike, Matt, come with me.

Finn: Right on. It’s time for less talking and more punching.

Will (enters the room): Hey, what’s going on?

Finn: We’re on our way to go all Braveheart on Vocal Adrenaline.

Will: Guys, violence is never the answer.

Puck: It is when the question is "What’s the best way to mess up that Jessie kid's face?!"

Kurt: Mr. Shue, Rachel's one of us. We’re the only ones who get to humiliate her.

The boys went to leave but Will snapped. Will: Stop! Get back here and sit down! (Kurt immediately did that.) Look, I know from experience that making someone else suffer doesn’t make your pain go away. You’re all amazing, no matter what Vocal Adrenaline says or does. We just need to find a way to remind ourselves of that.

Finn: We can’t just let Vocal Adrenaline get away with turning Rachel into an omelet.

Will (growls): We’re not. Rachel, dial Jesse's number on your phone.

Rachel pulled out her phone.

Santana: You haven’t deleted his number yet?

Rachel hands her phone to Will.

Will: Jessie St. James? Will Schuester here. You and Vocal Adrenaline need to meet at our auditorium Friday, 3:00 sharp.

––——–—

Vocal Adrenaline were in the WMHS auditorium where Rachel stood in front of them where there was a backdrop behind her.

Rachel: Thanks for coming. After your brazen escalation of our growing dispute, which we were willing to put to rest, we decided the only way to truly funkify you is to show you the one thing we know you can’t do. So enjoy.

Kurt: Roof off, we’re gonna tear the roof off the mother sucker. Tear the roof off the sucker, tear the roof. We’re gonna tear the roof off the mother sucker. Tear the roof off the sucker.

Finn and Mercedes with Tina and New Directions (with Kurt): You’ve got a real type of thing going down, getting down. There’s a whole lot of rhythm going round. (You’ve got a real type of thing going down, getting down There’s a whole lot of rhythm going round)

Finn, Mercedes, and Tina with New Directions: We want the funk, give up the funk. We need the funk, we gotta have that funk we want the funk, give up the funk. We need the funk, we gotta have that funk Na-na-na-na-na. Doo doo doo doo doo doo doo, ow. Na-na-na-na-na. Doo doo doo doo doo doo doo, ow

Artie and Mercedes with New Directions: We’re gonna turn this mother out (New Directions: We want the funk, give up the funk). We’re gonna turn this mother out (New Directions: We need the funk, we gotta have that funk) (Mercedes: Gotta turn this mother out). We’re gonna turn this mother out (New Directions: We want the funk, give up the funk). We’re gonna turn this mother out (New Directions: We need the funk, we gotta have that funk) (Mercedes: We're gonna turn this mother out hey!)

Finn and Mercedes with Tina and New Directions: Na-na-na-na-na, Doo doo doo doo doo doo doo, ow (Mercedes: Doo doo doo doo na yeah). Na-na-na-na-na (Mercedes: Da-na-ta-ta-na ..Sing it now!) Doo doo doo doo doo doo doo, ow (New Directions: You’ve got a real type of thing going down, gettin' down). You’ve got a real type of thing going down, gettin' down. There’s a whole lot of rhythm going down (Mercedes: Whole a lot of rhythm going down down get it!). You’ve got a real type of thing going down, gettin' down There’s a whole lot of rhythm going round (Mercedes: A real type of thing).

Mercedes:

Yeeaahh!

Finn and Tina with New Directions: We want the funk, give up the funk We need the funk, we gotta have that funk (Mercedes: Funky!) We want the funk, (Mercedes: Yeahhh!). Give up the funk, we need the funk, we gotta have that funk. We want the funk (Kurt: We’re gonna tear the roof off the mother sucker) (Mercedes: Funky funky!) (Kurt: Tear the roof off the sucker). Give up the funk (Kurt: Tear the roof off) We need the funk (Kurt: We’re gonna tear the roof off the mother sucker). (Mercedes: Get down man!). We gotta have that funk (Kurt: Tear the roof off the sucker). (Mercedes: Heey) We want the funk, give up the funk, we need the funk, we gotta have that funk.

Mercedes: Heeeeeyyy!

Puck: See you punks at Regionals.

Jesse: They did a funk number. We’ve never been able to pull off a funk number.

Giselle: Well, that’s because we’re soulless automatons.

Jesse: I’m so depressed.

#transcript #glee

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mariamariquinha · 2 years ago

Note

If you’re taking requests, please could I get some Carrillo fluff. Maybe after a bad raid and the female reader is a bit spooked. He takes his time to look after her and wash her hair etc?

Heeey anon! How are you? Listen, I just LOVED this request so I couldn't wait to write! Eh, it kinda get a little mooore than a 'bit spooked' BUT I hope you like it! ❤

privilege. (Colonel Carrillo x f!reader)

Summary: Not everyone need to say 'I love you'; sometimes they just need to prove it.

Word count: 1.5k

Warnings: FLUFFY, mentions of violence, near death experience, a bit of trauma, a loooot of Carrillo being a sweetie because... Yeah, I love him too, your honor.

Author’s Note: Double-shot of Carrillo on the same day???? In this economy???

Well, today is Friday, let's celebrate in style! I won't be very active this weekend, so… May we all enjoy it as if we're taking a bite out of Maurice Compte's tit (respectfully). Woo-hoo!

Very light but just to be sure, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

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

You didn't say anything; if you did, you would go back to the moment when it all happened and succumb to a state of misery.

It was the kind of story you tell after retirement, with friends from when you were active, when every shot became a point of reference for every event in your life. Maybe those friends would be Javier and Steve, maybe Trujillo, maybe Carrillo.

Anyway, at that moment, with your adrenaline pumping and your heart racing, you didn't say anything.

The shot had passed close, very close, and if it hadn't been for the sirens, you'd still hear the ringing in your left ear. There was a sense of empathy because of that, even though no one there knew what actually happened and how you came within inches of getting into Pablo Escobar's death stats.

You then proceeded as if nothing had happened, or at least you tried - your fingers faltered a little as you wrote your report that night, weighed down by the phrase 'grab shot' having entered the annals of the operation that tried to capture the biggest drug trafficker that ever existed. In fact, you didn't even realize you'd focused so much on the damn document until you heard footsteps enter the office and stop right next to you.

It was impossible not to recognize who it was, which was why you didn't look up right away, opting instead to stare at the paper with your hands hovering over the keys.

“Enough for today, yeah?” He had gotten used to saying that, ‘yeah’. It was a quirk of yours when you were trying to engage in a difficult conversation and he probably knew it, so he chose that term to make things easy, or at least more understandable among you.

“I need to finish this,” Your weak smile didn’t reach your eyes when you finally looked at him.

“You can do that in the morning. Everyone's gone home, you're tired and in need of a rest.”

“Carrillo…”

“I mean it.”

And that was the thing with Horacio, he always meant it. You've said more than once that this was your reason for liking him, for choosing him in the first place, added to his straightforward personality. That affection, even if hidden in a firm face to make you change your mind, was what made you feel more of the burden of hiding things in the name of pride.

“… I don't want to think about it tomorrow morning,” You argued with a low tone, flexing your fingers. “There’s just one paragraph left. Then I go home.”

You didn't wait for a reaction from him because you knew he would argue, so you went back to typing and only heard a heavy sigh from above, and then also heard a chair being dragged and the noise of his body sitting on it, there, on your left side.

“You'll wait?”

“Yes.”

“Don't take my word for it?”

“No.”

For the first time since the day started, you smiled genuinely, because it was Carrillo, and he decided to build a camp with you to make sure of your rest. Of course you tried to hide it from him. Of course, too, that it didn't do much good because he let out a little 'tsk' and pushed your arm ever so slightly.

It all took another half hour, at least. You were mechanical in your movements from there, closing the folder and putting it in the drawer with a frown, only to stand up a little stunned at the thought of the day being over and not your life.

“I’ll take you.”

“You don’t need to…”

“It's not a discussion.” And he pointed to the door, turning off the desk light you forgot and taking steps slow enough to keep up with the same robotic steps you were taking.

The drive home was another blur; your head flashed back to the moment when the shards of concrete had hit you in the face, the rumble of the shot, the state of the wall and the bullet that could have done the same damage right to your head. Headshot. End game. It wasn't the kind of thing to forget about.

You only thought about the possibility that you were testing his intelligence when the car stopped and you saw that the trip had been over for some time. Carrillo woke you from your thoughts with a hand on your leg, and he was looking at your expressionless face.

The silence was tense, prolonged. He got you out of the car, even though he didn't touch you, and walked the way to your apartment without saying anything. You considered saying you didn't need it, that you'd be fine, but God knew how scared you still were about it all and what a gift comfort was in times of war.

With the extra key neatly removed from under the potted plant in the hallway, he opened the door and welcomed you into the apartment. Only then did he touch you. It was calculated, between the locked door and the encounter with your body standing in the small hallway, but when his lips touched your temple, right where the worst could have happened, you almost cried. This contact was also prolonged.

You two walked up to your room and he made you sit on the edge of your bed; the street light was comforting, the only source of light in the room, and you didn't have the privilege of enjoying the sight of Horacio kneeling in front of you, taking off your shoes. Again, you felt the need to say that it wasn't necessary, that he was tired too, but the weight got heavier, harder, and your mouth stayed closed as you stared out the window.

Heavens, you could have lost everything. The sight of children playing in the street until later, the comfort of that bed, the feeling of being close to happiness even given the circumstances - close to Horacio. Then you finally faced him, catching a glimpse of the domesticity of that cunning man's calloused hands massaging your heels and gingerly resting your feet on the floor.

“Stay,” You asked, which made him smile. He didn't answer right away, lost in his own thoughts, but he got to his feet, towering over your seated position, making you stare at him from afar.

“… Do you want dinner? Are you hungry?” His hand touched your face and you leaned into the touch. “Hum?” He pressed after a moment without an answer.

“Yes.”

“How about if we take a shower…” It was his turn to lean in, this time to peck your lips. “Eat something…” Another peck. “Get the day out of our heads.” With that, he gently grabbed your hands, asking without words for you to get up.

The hot water from the shower was also comforting, but not as comforting as feeling Horacio's firm body there, sharing a unique warmth that emanated from him, while his hands came and went behind your back in a kind of sympathetic embrace - necessary. You were holding him by the waist when he pulled back a little, only to take the shampoo and carefully rub it over your head. There was nothing to say, not really. Just the sound of the shower, of his fingers massaging your scalp… It was enough to make you close your eyes, hold him tighter, feel him there, close, with you.

What a privilege it was to be able to feel the skin of that physical love at your fingertips, from your forearms to your shoulders, neck, chest, abdomen. What a privilege it was to know he was there, the coat of responsibilities and his title hanging on the door, giving space for affection, care, affection. What a privilege to know they couldn't take that away from you.

“Will you tell me what happened?”

The question came later, after he dressed you in pajamas and you two ate the meal he made, lying tangled up in bed when you thought he was asleep. The room still received only street light, and considering the way you rested on his chest, you bought yourself time to think about your answer without looking at his face.

“Not now.” You mumbled.

“Not ready?”

“Mm-hm.”

Horacio considered it, which was a little overwhelming, even if necessary.

“…I don't want you to think you're alone,” He brushed his fingers over your hair while speaking. “I know you’re far from home, but we can… Try to make it feel like it. Look at me.”

It wasn't an order, so you just lifted your head after a while, propping yourself up on your elbow so you could see him more clearly. This gave him a chance to calmly caress your face.

“You can be sure that I'll be here, if you want.”

“You’re already doing a lot, Horacio. I don’t want to be a burden between all this mess.”

“The only thing that you've done is give me a chance to feel something and that feeling is far from being this.”

He was true, as if he had his heart on his sleeve ready to give you and sure that you, in your own way, did the same. It made you smile. Really smile. And when you placed a kiss on his mouth and another on his chest, you really got the confirmation you needed.

Carrillo was more than a lover; he was the greatest of your privileges.

#colonel carrillo x reader #colonel carrillo #colonel carrillo fic #horacio carrillo #horacio carrillo x reader #maurice compte #narcos fic #narcos fanfiction #narcos #request

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retvenkos · 4 years ago

Text

hope in the jar | k.b.

Six of Crows - Kaz Brekker x Reader, slight fluff, slight angst requested

tw: gunshot wound, medical stitches, mention of gun violence, mentions of blood, slightly ooc kaz because have you tried to write him softly?

word count: 1.4k

prompt: “I don’t trust anyone… but you’re not just anyone.”

A/N: 1) this doesn’t seem to take place at any given point in canon but i want wylan and matthias to be there, sue me, and 2) do i know that there is no greek mythology is the grishaverse? yes. does that stop me from mentioning pandora’s box? no.

summary: Kaz Brekker is far from just being anyone. And maybe, so are you.

"You're quiet." Wylan bumped your shoulder, pulling you out of your thoughts.

There was a particular kind of calm that descended after a shootout. When pistols stopped smoking and adrenaline had left the bloodstream, the cool weight of evening fell back on your shoulders and managed to settle differently. For Jesper, it meant more jokes than usual. For Inej, more prayer. For Nina, it meant more grumbling, and for Matthias, more smiles. You weren't always sure what it meant for you, but tonight, it meant pensivity.

The walk back to the Slat was victorious. The streets of Ketterdam were empty and unusually quiet, thanks to Wylan's affinity toward bombs and blowing half of the cobblestones right off the street. The tranquility wasn't typical, but somehow, it was comforting. Perhaps even invigorating. How often did Ketterdam fall silent? Especially for canal rats like you?

Maybe if you still had a slow trickle of adrenaline, you would have commemorated the moment - maybe by getting waffles? But it was late, and after taking a bullet to the side after getting a little too close to the enemy, the only thing you wanted was to wash all of the grime off of your face and fall asleep. Maybe you'd celebrate after a good night's rest - Saints providing that such a thing existed in the Barrel.

"Am I quiet? Or are you slowly going deaf from all of your 'science experiments?'"

Wylan flushed a little. Even after all this time, he was so easy to tease. What made it even funnier was that he always managed some witty comeback or another, all while his cheeks were a shocking 'embarrassment pink.' Wylan opened his mouth to speak—

"Definitely quiet!" Jesper called from in front of you, one of his arms slung around Inej's shoulder, the other twirling a pistol.

Wylan let out a scoff of admiration, and you mumbled under your breath - something about Jesper being an irritating, smart mouthed idiot.

"What was that, (Y/n)?"

"You're annoying, Jesper!"

"Well, I'm glad something can make you lively again." Jesper turned his head to toss you a wink, and you rolled your eyes.

Wylan bumped your shoulders together, again, careful not to jostle you too much. "You're not quiet now. Just seething."

"Just tired," you corrected, passing the redhead a lazy smile.

"Admitting that is admitting weakness."

Kaz walked behind you and the rest of the group, but his voice was loud enough for everyone to hear. You turned around and walked backward so you could face him.

To anyone else walking the street, the Bastard of the Barrel was just more brooding than usual - his tone curter, his eyes sharper, the lines on his face deeper than they had the right to be. To you, though, Kaz was tired. His leg was stiff from the fight, giving him more trouble than usual, and his jaw was set in a rigid line as to not give away his weakness.

The Slat wasn't too far, now, but even after getting inside, there would be stairs to climb, and a hell of a lot of them were so worn down, they might buckle at any given weight.

It would be a rough night; it already had been.

You just sighed. "Admitting that is trust."

Kaz held your gaze. For a long moment, you couldn't figure what he was thinking. Kaz Brekker was always considering something, and after a while, you had gotten good at knowing just what he was thinking, when.

But not this time. Kaz was a sphinx to you during that baited moment - inexplicable, an enigma. What made it worse was that it was deliberate.

Kaz raised his eyebrows and looked down at his cane, hitting the ground with more force than before.

"We're all tired."

The night was filled with the quiet once more, but with every step you took toward the Slat, the low din of unruly jeers and shouts filled your brain like cotton on a wound.

✧ *:･ﾟ

You sat on the floor of your room, a bowl of water before you, a haphazard pile of medical supplies to your left. Nina had told you that she wasn't a Healer when she began to seal your wound earlier, and you had said you didn't want to waste time while still exposed on the streets - by all accounts, Nina did a decent job with the three or so minutes you allowed her. But Saints, someone should have told you to stuff your pride and let Nina work on you just a bit longer. Maybe then you wouldn't be sitting on the floor of your room, stitching up a wound with supplies you nicked from Muzzen.

You had just finished your stitches (you still needed to thank Inej for teaching you how) when you heard Kaz walking up the steps.

You wrapped up your wound as best you could. You were pushing down your shirt when you heard him speak.

"I wouldn't trust just anyone in the Dregs."

You washed your hands clean as best you could and sent Kaz a wayward glance, noting how he stood in your doorway - as though he wasn't quite sure if he belonged.

"I've been in Ketterdam too long—" You grabbed a towel and wiped your face, trying to rid yourself of the dirt and grime. You turned back to Kaz "—I don't trust anyone."

He nodded as though agreeing with your judgment. But it was too quick - too relenting. He turned to go.

"But you're not just anyone, Kaz."

The Bastard of the Barrel froze. It seemed to you that his grip on his cane tightened. Perhaps it was a side effect from the blood loss or maybe even a fast-acting infection from that suture needle, but it felt like something sucked all the air out of the room.

You turned to face him properly.

"C'mon, we've both known it for longer than we care to admit. I'm doing us a mercy - putting it to rest."

Silence, still. If the Slat were up in flames, you doubted you would have noticed. There was nothing else here - it was just you, Kaz, and the space that lay between.

You eased your legs out in front of you, putting your arms out behind you and leaning on your palms. The floor was cool - like the night had been, earlier, when you were talking away from a gunfight. The world was somehow smaller, then - like you had held it in your grasp.

Kaz was still half turned, but you could see his profile, and once again, his thoughts were under lock and key.

"You can either take it or leave it, Kaz. But whatever you decide to choose, know that you chose it."

He spoke sooner than you expected. "You're not just anyone, either."

Your mouth went dry. You weren't sure what you had been expecting or even hoping. Hope was still trapped inside Pandora's jar, and even the barest inkling of it could have destroyed your whole world. Hope belonged to the innocent and the pious, and you hadn't been either in a long time. You weren't sure what you had been expecting, but it certainly wasn't that.

And for some reason, you could fathom how Kaz Brekker could have ever said such a thing and meant it.

Maybe Kaz didn't think you heard him, because he affirmed it, turning to you. "You're not just anyone, (Y/n)."

"Not just another soldier in your ranks?"

"Not anymore."

You wanted to laugh, but it came out as more of a breath. You settled for a lopsided smile instead. "That's practically a proposal, coming from you."

"If I could offer you more, I would."

You looked at Kaz as he stood in the doorway. He was exhausted and beaten at his own game, but there was nothing but sincerity and truth swimming in his eyes, nothing but honestly dripping from every syllable. Had you ever seen Kaz the way he was, now? To take his own words, he was admitting a weakness. Earnestness was a defect in the Barrel. Vulnerability was a sin.

"It's not much," you conceded. You moved your outstretched leg so that you could tap his shoe - toe to toe. Kaz watched the slow movement carefully, but never pulled away. "But for now, it's good enough."

-- taglist: @musicallisto, @catsbooksandmusic // message me if you want to be added!

#six of crows #grishaverse #kaz brekker #kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker x you #kaz brekker imagine #x reader #reader insert #gender neutral reader #fluff #slight angst #one shot #imagine #hi yes why are you all so intent with making me fall in love with kaz brekker?

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wkemeup · 3 years ago

Note

favorite fanfic trope: enemies to lovers but it's the moment when their tension is at its peak 😈

title: The Mess I Made - submitted by anon summary: you may not be on the best terms with Bucky Barnes, but it doesn't stop you from coming to his defense prompt: “Did anyone ever tell you how pathetic you are? It’s incredible how low my standards are for you.” / multiple requests for enemies to lovers word count: 1.5k a/n: enemies to lovers is already tough for me and to do it in drabble form is impossible for me because it requires a slow burn, but I did my best!!

You were on your way to the tower's gym when you heard Bucky’s voice echo from the end of the hall. Towel swung over your shoulder, headphones barely even grazed your ears as you paused, turning down the music. Bucky’s shadow danced over the walls as his run his hands through his hair. A woman’s shadow emerged next to him, her heels clicking against the tiles.

You rolled your eyes. Bucky’s latest string of conquests were an inconvenience at best. His pathetic attempt to rekindle whatever version of himself he idolized from the forties in the form of cheap, meaningless hookups was just another reason you made every effort to steer clear of Barnes. His seemingly indifference towards you made easy to do so.

Steve wouldn’t let it go – his questioning of why the two of you could never get along. It wasn’t that you hated Barnes. You didn’t know him well enough to hate him. You just didn’t care for what you saw. He was guarded and cold. Condescending and arrogant. Half the time, you barely believed Steve’s stories of Bucky’s charming days in the forties. The rare moments you caught his smile, it looked forced. It barely touched his eyes and he wore a mask to bring home women who spent their nights admiring an arm he would not allow them to touch.

The rare moments you thought you saw something genuine in him, he’d lashed out. The cracks in his foundation breaking through the surface in the screams at the night of dead of night, flinching at loud noises, the easy transition to taking orders and losing himself for the briefest of moments.

You’d made the mistake once of trying to comfort him. His eyes had glazed over in the middle of a conversation. There were dozens of agents around for the annual holiday party and Bucky was in another world entirely. His pupils were dilated, his hands shaking as he closed them to fists. You never learned what triggered it, but the moment you laid a gentle hand upon his forearm, Bucky had you in a chokehold.

It took both Sam and Tony’s strength to wield Bucky away from you, all while he was practically foaming at the mouth, screaming at you to never touch him again. He was rabid as Sam and Tony struggled to hold him back. The whole party stopped to watch the scene unfold – as Bucky hurtled countless insults at you.

He was drinking Thor’s liquor. He had to have been. Half of what he said that night barely made any sense. None it worth the audacity to lay a hand upon his arm to draw him back from wherever his mind had taken him. Perhaps, if you weren’t so thoroughly humiliated, you might have considered as much.

But what he said that night stayed with you and you never let it go.

“Why don’t you stay, sweetheart?” Bucky’s voice carried down the hall.

You tapped your foot impatiently at the elevators, desperate for an escape before he turned the corner. You noticed the woman’s heels were still clicking on the floors. She hadn’t stopped.

“Let me take you for breakfast, at least,” Bucky asked, a nervousness in his voice you didn’t recognize. He cleared his throat. “I was thinking we could—”

“I’m going to stop you right there.” The clicking ceased and you watched as the woman’s shadow placed a hand on Bucky’s chest, stilling him in an instant. “I thought you knew what this was.”

“I did. I do, but,” Bucky started, running a hand through his hair. You’d never seen him act this way before – so unsure of himself. The elevator doors open and closed as you watched his shadow sway on his heels. “I just... I want to try something different. Something... real and I thought, since we had a nice night together you might...”

“What?” the woman scoffed. “You thought I would want to date you?”

Bucky stiffened. Even his shadow appeared to mask into stone. Dread curdled in your stomach and you found yourself inching down the hall, approaching the shadows.

“Listen,” the woman crooned, “you were great last night and sleeping with the Winter Soldier is a hell of a story, but you’re not exactly... relationship material.”

You froze, stunned.

Bucky awkward cleared his throat. “I-I know, and I’m working on that. I just thought—”

“Oh my God, take the hint!” the woman exclaimed and you flinched in time with Bucky’s shadow against the wall. “Did anyone ever tell you how pathetic you are? Clearly all I wanted was a good lay. I thought I wouldn’t have to worry about this clingy shit with the Winter Soldier for Christ's sake. It’s incredible how low my standards were for you.”

“What the hell is your problem?”

You rounded the corner, tossing your workout gear aside as you came face to face with the woman. She was a beautiful as the rest of them were – tall, stunning, probably one of the models you’ve seen on runways or on magazines. But her eyes were unkind, and dismissive.

“I don’t have to explain myself to you,” she spat, shoving past your shoulder and heading to the elevator. You moved to block her when you felt the cold grasp of vibranium curl around your wrist, yanking you out of her path.

“Hey!” you yelped, watching as the woman made her escape into the elevator. You snatched your hand back, massaging at the tender muscle. “What the hell, Barnes?”

“I don’t need you coming to my rescue,” Bucky bit back. “I had it handled.”

You scoffed, the image of Bucky’s form flinching as she called him ‘pathetic’ still fresh in your mind. You’d never known him to back down from a fight. Hell, he’d gotten into a screaming match with a paparazzi for daring to ask how his morning jog went. Bucky didn’t roll over and play dead. But he let that woman wrap a hand around his throat until he choked.

“Sure looked handled,” you rolled your eyes. “She was walking all over you.”

“My sex life is not your concern,” he growled, his voice low as his eyes hooded.

“I never said a damn thing about your sex life, Barnes.” You shook your head, already regretting stepping in at all. It was pointless – foolish even – to think that he might be appreciative of your intervention, of the fact that despite the tense history between you, you would never stoop as low as that woman did.

You bent down and picked up the gym bag you’d let slip from your hands. “If you want to be treated like shit, then by all means, have fun with your next one night stand. I'll steer clear of the fallout.”

You started to head back towards the gym when you heard Bucky groan rather dramatically behind you. You paused, glancing over your shoulder as Bucky hit a fit against the wall.

“What is your—”

“You are so goddamn infuriating!” Bucky snapped and your jaw dropped.

“Are you serious right now? Me? I’m the infuriating one?” You released your bag, letting the weights hit the floor as you stalked back to him. “You’re the ungrateful jerk who just yelled at the one person who bothered to stand up for you!”

Bucky gritted his teeth. “I never asked you to do that!”

He was only inches away. His breath hot against your cheeks. You could see the dark blue specs in his eyes from this close. The blacks of his eyes nearly consuming him whole.

“Maybe that’s your problem, Barnes,” you sneered. “You think you need to ask for help, that it’s earned or deserved, but it’s not! Sometimes people just want to help you, you asshole! Sometimes, people can be good and can care about you without expecting that you—”

Your back hit the wall as Bucky’s weight pressed to your chest. His lips crashed against yours, his hand slipping into your hair. Everything in him moved with purpose, with adrenaline spiked into his veins and fury in his bones – but not his hands. Even as his lips hungrily devoured yours, his hands were gentle as they caressed the nape of you neck, as they slid down your hips.

What surprised you more – was that you kissed him back. Your hand clutched into the thin fabric of his t-shirt, your lips parting for him as he brushed him tongue over yours. It was the kind of kiss that left you feel dizzy – like you’d been under for too long, your lungs aching, and still you had no desire for air.

When he finally did draw back, it was only when he was breathless. His chest panting in time with yours, his forehead dipping to rest against your collarbone. He paused for a moment, even as his fingers gently pressed into the nape of your neck as if upon keys of a piano.

“I don’t know why I did that,” Bucky confessed.

You chuckled. “I do.”

He lifted his head and you smiled when you saw his lips were pink and swollen. You brushed a hand over his cheek.

“Because even when I hated you, I still cared about you, Barnes. It’s not black and white. It’s messy and it’s grey. But I can handle a little mess, can’t you?”

Bucky swallowed, slow to the smile that crept upon his lips, but still—it came. “Yeah, I can handle messy.”

When he kissed you again, he didn’t hesitate.

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #drabble night

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mayaflowerxs · 3 years ago

Note

Hello! I just want to say that I really like your writing! can you write nsfw alphabet with jeno, please? 🥺

NSFW Alphabet w/ Jeno

Warning: SMUTTY

A/N: THANK U SM! This one is for you enjoy ! :)

Aftercare:

There wouldn’t be much aftercare other than him asking you if he was a little too rough on you. He would be very soft on you, that inner dom of his gone as he’s at your aid for anything.

Body part:

He loves your hips. He practically has the world in his hands and that’s you. He also loves pinning you and it drives him crazy how much power he has over you pinned down underneath him. He also loves sucking hickies on them, it’s a great view for him to see when he has his hands on them. And not only does he love them when having sex he also loves them because he can easily pull you near him at any time. It comforts him when he wraps his arms around your waist.

Cum:

He loves coming all over your face, it’s absolutely glorious for him. Like a painting so valuable you can’t even put a price on it. He especially loves kissing you while his liquids is on your face, absolutely loses it when you lick some it off (if you’re into that)

Dirty Secret:

Consensual somnophilia is the best kind of sex for him. He loves how cute and innocent you look being woken up by his cock ramming you deeply. Lots of times he’ll try to keep himself from having sex with you because he tries to wait until you fall asleep. He won’t tell you out loud he likes it because he doesn’t want you to think he’s weird so he tries not to do it too often which is a bit of a bummer for him.

Experience:

He’s experienced all right. A gorgeous man like that and he hasn’t slept with two or three girls maybe more? Can’t be. He doesn’t care that everyone knows how many people he slept with even if he wasn’t dating them but if you did the same I can see him a bit competitive. Each time a man comes up to you, the reminder of you being with other guys before him ticks him off. So when you two get in bed, he makes it his goal to make you feel a lot more satisfied. To prove to himself only he can make you feel so good and no one else.

Favorite Position:

Missionary. He absolutely loves seeing you so vulnerable underneath him. Like I said, he loves pinning you and grabbing my your waist so missionary definitely is the go to position. He also loves it when he pulls your leg over his shoulder UGH, his stupid smirk forming on his face once he hits a new spot that makes you wild, ego bar raised.

Goofy:

He’s not goofy at all when it comes to sex. Even when stuff leads up to it he isn’t goofy. He also isn’t serious also. He’s kinda, dommy I guess? He knows what he wants and it’s going to happen. And if he’s angry… oh boy be prepared. He won’t even let you talk and use you like a rag doll.

Hair:

He’s in the middle. It isn’t completely bare but also isn’t a bush you know?

Intimacy:

He’s not sensual during the sex. He likes it rough for sure and he’s a pretty kinky man. You know the intimacy is raised to the maximum when he’s having a very hard time. For a man like him who likes things to be rough, when he’s stressed he actually doesn’t go rough on you. Instead he prefers to have you be on top and remind him how much love he has then repays you.

Jerk off:

He does it quite often. When he has to stay at the dorm, he’ll lock himself in his room and get off with the thought of you doing dirty things to him. He hates it when he can’t spent time with you, so he results to touching himself. Not even just when he misses you. He’ll get the random crave of touching you but since he can’t come over to fuck you in your bed, he results to masturbating somewhere near and private. After he’s done with whatever he had going on that day, he’ll visit you and finish off the rest of his urges out on you.

Kink:

Somnophilia, exhibitionism are his go two. He might have others but they aren’t as much of a strong liking for it to be considered a kink of his. He loves fucking you in places where it is absolutely not for sexual intercourse. He can’t help it, your just to hot to not fuck and doing it in public? Oh yesss.

Location:

This boy usually fucks you at your house. But if he had a location where he wishes to fuck you in every single time you two have sex is by the park in the car. You guys have done it numerous of times and he has had the best orgasms every single time. He just loves having car sex and not just car sex, it has to be near a park.

Motivation:

You’re literally so damn fine he gets horny by the mere thought of you sucking him off. If you’re with him you could literally be using short shorts and his oversized shirt and he already has your shorts and panties by your ankles.

No:

Does not do threesomes and pegging. He’s very possessive of you. Not too much but enough to where you know this man does not share at all. If you’re screaming it’s because he’s fucking you so good not because another man is doing so. Your his and his only.

Oral:

Fucking LOVES oral. He loves how cute you look as your eyes stare directly into his as you have your pretty lips wrapped around his oozing tip. Makes him want to fuck your mouth all day. He also loves how squirmy you get when he starts eating you out so good. He knows how to use his mouth and any time you try to push his head away from your sore cunt he pins your hands down and only goes wilder on your pussy. Adding another orgasm for being a bad girl.

Pace:

Mf is fast and rough. He loves how fast he’s fucking you to the point the slapping sounds start to increase in volume. Not only that, your moans also get louder. Small bruising starts forming from how hard he’s gripping your waist.

Quickies:

He likes quickies if he’s really horny but most times he likes taking his time with you. He loves to overstimulate you so he definitely is going to take his sweet time taking good care of you.

Risk:

Oh my god this boy is all for it. The risk of getting caught is his adrenaline to continue pounding you harder and harder. The idea of getting caught makes him feel alive and he honestly wouldn’t care if he got caught. The most riskiest thing you guys have done is fucked on a hill, anybody could’ve found you guys but he couldn’t care at all. Poor you, he had you go on for 5 rounds and fingered you. By the time you two were done and got dressed you guys started going down the hill when a family was barely making it up. You were relieved they didn’t arrive sooner but Jeno was low key bummed you guys didn’t get caught. Quickly getting over it once he saw the family had a younger kid with them. Definitely glad they weren’t caught, the kid was too young to be asking questions.

Stamina:

This boy can last for a WHILE. If you two have a place to be and can only do at least two rounds he still has a lot more he needs to release. He might seem completely fine from the outside but once you guys are home there he goes pounding you from behind, tight grip on your hips as he plunged into you until you were begging for him no more.

Toys:

He’s all for toys. He only uses devices to edge you on but once your close to climaxing, he turns it off and replaces it by using himself to fuck you your climax.

Unfair:

He loves teasing so damn much. He loves how desperate you get every time he denies you release. But as soon as you do it to him you better pray he goes easy on you because if not, you two will go all night.

Volume:

He’s a groaner. He loves hearing you scream his name as your 4th orgasm has you close to tears. Anytime he feels overly pleased he’ll bite your neck and suck hickies on them. Gripping your hair when he’s coming. Continuously groaning, filling you up to the brim.

Wildcard: Once he really needed to have you bent over a table to fuck your because of much of a brat you were being. Since the boys were with you at a restaurant, he instead fingered you throughout the entire dinner. Somehow the boys never realized Jeno wasn’t using an arm, well al except Jisung. And when you begged Jeno to retracted his arm, he took you to the bathroom and fucked you in there. Yeah the boys never let that go.

X-ray: I see him to be at least 7 inches, nice girth but isn’t that thick but enough to completely fuck you dumb.

Yearning: HE’S ALWAYS HORNY! Idk how he does it to keep himself cool in front of others but if you’re in arms reach you’re in for a wild ride because he will not get off you until every last drop of energy of him is completely sucked out of him.

Zzz:

He doesn’t sleep right away unless he went literally crazy on you. If it was one of those times where you do kinda had to cut down the rounds he wouldn’t be tired but rather wide awake and ready to go on with the day. But if he has your legs wrapped around him as he fucks you orgasm after orgasm then he most likely will fall on the bed besides you, knock out in seconds.

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