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probably-impossible · 1 year ago

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Crush

A story about the End of the Wild West; or, the Prophet sees two trains explode on his one-hundred-and-fourth birthday.

(Aka my Activity 1 for the @dollarstrilogyevent that I got way too into hahahaha)

By his own reckoning, Prophet was one-hundred and four years old as of that September in 1896. Perhaps unsurprisingly he had lost most of his hearing, but his vision was still good. He saw the door of his shack swing open, and he struggled to sit up in bed. “I've already found Jesus and I'm not buying anything!”

The face that poked around the door belonged to Fluke Dudley, a young man who worked on the ranch that had sprung up next door. He was just about the only one who visited him anymore. “It's me, Prophet,” he said. “I w- - - - - to - - - - you- -”

“Speak up, boy!”

“I SAID THERE'S SOMEWHERE I'D LIKE TO TAKE YOU TODAY!”

“What? Where's that, then?”

“IT'S A SURPRISE!” Fluke scratched his nose and grinned. “For your birthday. You'll like it, sir, I promise.”

Prophet grumbled but allowed Fluke to lift him into the rickety wheelchair that sat beside his bed. “Don't need remindin’ about no birthday,” he said. “I've had about ten too many of ‘em, I reckon. Wish someone had put me out of my misery back when the goddamn good-for-nothing trains took my hearing!”

“Oh, don't talk like that.”

“I'm a hundred and four years old, I'll talk however I damn well please!”

Fluke rolled him out of the shack, towards one of the ranch's small one-horse wagons. He lifted the old man up onto the seat and stowed the chair in the bed, then jumped up and flicked the reins.

Prophet squinted at the scenery as they rolled slowly alongside the train tracks. “I used to get visits from all sorts of people, you know,” he said. “I used to know everything about everybody in these parts. They'd come from miles around to see me. To get their information.”

Fluke nodded. He'd heard this story before.

“Lawmen, outlaws, drifters,” Prophet continued. “Bounty killers. I've seen them all. But they just don't make men like that anymore. I tell you, boy, things have got too civilized around here.”

“ - - - - ”

“What?”

“I SAID YOU'RE RIGHT!”

“Damn sure I'm right.” Prophet leaned over the side of the wagon to glare down at the tracks. “It's all the fault of those trains! They take all the civilized folk from out east, load ‘em up into their carriage cars with the lacy curtains and little fruity drink trolleys, and send ‘em out here. And soon enough there's so much civilization around a man can't hardly be himself anymore.”

Prophet leaned back and went silent for a while. “I wonder how many of those young men who used to come and see me are still alive,” he said. “They strung up Willie Foster last year, I know that. And Kid Frasier fell off his hoss. That old marshal Colby… whatever happened to him?”

“He got killed in a shootout, you said.”

“Right, right. Davey and Red Kelly done it, and then they run off to Mexico.” He blinked as another wagon passed by them. It was loaded up with people, chatting and laughing. He lost his thought for a moment, then picked it back up again. “Angel Eyes… he's long gone. That retired colonel went back to North Carolina. Now what was that young buck's name… Manco. Fell off the face of the earth, far as I can remember. And worst of all, poor old Cheyenne…”

“Shot in the gut by the president of the railroad company,” Fluke muttered.

“...shot in the gut by the president of the railroad company! Did you ever hear of a worse way to go?!” Prophet sighed. “Somehow I outlived them all. Now I'm the last of a dyin’ breed. They just don't make men like us anymore.”

“No sir,” Fluke said. There were more wagons around now, and people walking along the tracks, too. They all seemed to be going in the same direction. Fluke tipped his hat as they passed by a group of ladies holding parasols.

Prophet looked at him skeptically. “Where exactly are you taking me? There sure are a lot of other people headed this way.”

“You'll find out soon,” Fluke said. “We're almost there.”

“There’s nothin’ wrong with my hair!”

“I SAID WE'RE ALMOST THERE!”

As they kept riding the crowd really started to thicken. They passed by lemonade stands and carnival games, a grandstand with a band, even a circus tent. “Just this once I'm glad I'm deaf,” Prophet muttered. “Who's runnin’ a goddamn county fair along the train tracks?”

Fluke slowly drew the wagon to a stop and pointed up at a large banner that had been hoisted next to a section of the track. It read ‘Crush, Texas. Est. September 15, 1896.’

“The railroad company's putting on a demonstration,” Fluke said, raising his voice even more than usual over the sound of the crowd. “They're gonna take two old steam engines, run ‘em as fast as they can, and crash ‘em right into each other!” He beamed with pride. “How do you like that for a birthday present, sir? You and me are gonna watch two trains smash each other to smithereens!”

Prophet blinked. “...What? The railroad company’s gonna smash their own trains?” he said, puzzled. “What for?”

“They're old engines, I guess,” Fluke said. “No use for ‘em anymore.”

“So they're crashing them? What, with all these people around?”

“It's supposed to be very safe. No chance of the boilers exploding or anything, that's what the man from the railroad said.”

Prophet went quiet for a while. Fluke felt his own excitement start to deflate. He'd been so sure the old man would love to see this. All he ever talked about was how much he hated trains! The whole affair seemed perfectly designed with him in mind. But he didn't look excited. In fact, he seemed a little… sad.

“The railroad company…” he muttered. “Making a whole damn spectacle out of busting up some old trains that aren't good for nothing anymore. And it's perfectly safe. ‘Course it is.”

A ripple of excitement went through the crowd; rumbling could be heard in the distance. Fluke slouched on the bench of the wagon. “...I'm sorry, Prophet. I thought for sure you'd like to see it.”

“Oh, don't look so damn mopey, boy,” Prophet said, gently. “Old bastards like me can't ever be satisfied with nothin’, that's all.”

They sat there in silence for a while. Fluke listened to the rumbling while Prophet watched two black dots appear on either end of the horizon and grow steadily closer.

Eventually the rumbling grew to a roar, and an anticipatory hush fell over the crowd. The ground began to shake. The trains were close enough to their destined meeting place now that Prophet could make out the shape of the engine cars, could see the smoke billowing from their antiquated stacks. For the first time in his life, the sight of the damn things didn't fill him entirely with hatred. They were being put out to pasture, just like him. To make way for newer, better trains. And when it happened it would be a perfectly-designed show, perfectly safe. Perfectly civilized.

The two trains met right beneath the banner. There was a mighty crash, so loud that even Prophet could hear it, and the sound of splintering wood. Then, a moment of total silence.

When the explosion began, time seemed to slow for Prophet. He could see a bright orange light well up within each of the smashed engines, then blossom into two beautiful balls of flame. The light danced in his eyes, and he smiled with glee. The boilers of the old engines had blown up after all. The sight of it was breathtaking.

All this took place within less than a second. As the fire billowed outwards, the force of the explosion sent millions of pieces of metallic debris straight into the gathered crowd. Prophet grinned with ecstasy and thought about how awful this was going to be for the railroad company. Oh, they were going to have hell to pay for this. It was a fiasco. Maybe it would even drive them out of business...! Of all the ways for a man like him to go, this was a fine one. He was grateful the boy had brought him out here, after all.

The explosion nearly knocked Fluke from the wagon, and he felt a stinging pain in his forearms as he shielded his face. It was all over in only a moment. He could hear groans and shouts from the crowd as he slowly regained his senses. He looked down at his arms; he'd been hit by some shrapnel, but not badly.

He turned quickly towards Prophet, then froze. The old man lay flopped backwards over the wagon bench, unmoving.

A metal bolt had gone straight into his forehead. Even so, there was a satisfied smile on his face.

#based on real historical events btw #man it seems like we're all getting into the feels for this first prompt :')#for a few dollars more #prophet #trains #dollarsfandomevent #fan fiction

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jaewritesfic · 5 months ago

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Everlasting Trio DPxDC Nobody Knows Au Pt 3

Parts 1 and 2

They both fall silent and stare.

That's an answer to one of many questions they've been asking themselves for years, isn't it?

Their best friend disappeared, and it wasn't abduction or murder. It was an escape.

“You guys don't have contact with Jack and Maddie, do you?”

Tucker swears there's a record scratch in his brain.

Sam gapes. “You mean your parents?”

Danny smiles, small, grim and humorless. “Jack and Maddie.”

Jesus Christ.

Sam glances over at Tucker and they exchange a look. Tucker knows they've been feeling a shared guilt for a long time, feeling like they didn't do enough. They had suspicions about something fucked going on in Danny's home life since the beginning of freshman year, but they never blew the whistle about it.

Rationally they know it wasn't their responsibility. All of Amity had suspicions - someone should have called CPS, and it shouldn't have been a couple of kids. A goddamn adult should have stepped up.

It doesn't keep either of them from feeling like they failed their childhood best friend.

“Considering I've spent the last four years suspecting they killed you and chucked your body into the portal to hide it? Hell fucking no, Danny,” Sam asserts.

The set of Danny's shoulders relaxes significantly. “Good,” he breathes. “Good. Please keep it that way.”

“What the fuck was going on in that house, man?” Tucker asks, a little sick to his stomach. He knows right away he shouldn't have asked.

Danny's expression shutters into something polite and pleasant to hide discomfort, and he immediately starts ‘casually’ gathering his papers and computer into his bag.

“Listen, I'm really happy to see you guys - seriously. I really should get going though, I-”

Sam reaches out and snatches him by the scruff of his shirt before he can even stand up all the way, yanking him back down into his chair.

His dumbfounded expression makes Tucker snort a laugh, so familiar and puppy-like. Danny is still all big blue eyes and nearly visible question marks when taken off guard. Tucker missed that face.

“You're not going anywhere until we get your phone number,” Sam argues, not a hint of wiggle room in her face or tone. “We'll get lunch or something, all three of us. Go to the mall. We're living in the same city, you know I'll hunt you down.”

When Danny hesitates, her face and tone melt into something softer.

“Please, Danny. We miss you.”

Danny melts a little, sighing and smiling. “...yeah. Yeah, I missed you too. I've missed you guys so much.”

“So?” Sam prompts, holding her hand out.

Danny huffs a little laughing breath and fishes around in his pocket, unlocking his phone and plopping it into her hand.

His nails are black and green. Gradient.

Tucker doesn't know much about nails, but he knows there's a difference when Sam paints them and when she splurges for acrylics.

“Are those professionally done?” he asks, bemused. Danny had never expressed an interest in that kind of thing as a kid. It's kind of cool to see signs that he's, like…growing into himself.

Danny shrugs, and it feels good to see that he doesn't even seem to consider Tucker might give a shit in a bad way.

“I'm on my hot girl shit,” he deadpans, and Sam nearly drops his phone with the force of her startled laugh.

Tucker snorts. “Oh, well about time.”

“Hey!” Danny protests, offense fake and eyes dancing. “What's that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing, nothing! You had a glow up is all.”

Danny snickers and kicks him gently under the table.

“Okay, dick.”

It's like they never parted at all for a moment.

“Here, Mr. Hot Girl Shit,” Sam says, handing Danny his phone back. “I put our numbers in and sent a text in a group chat so you can't forget to reach out. I'm serious, Danny. We missed you, don't disappear. It was scary enough the first time.”

Danny grimaces, at least looking genuinely apologetic. “I know. I'm sorry. I really do need to get going today, though. I've got an appointment.”

“What kind of appointment?” Tucker asks.

The grin Danny gives him is mischievous and has a few teeth sharper than he remembers there being.

He breezes past them and out the door with an impish response of, “Hide and seek with furries.”

Part 4

Masterpost

#everlasting trio #danny phantom #tucker foley #sam manson #dc x dp #this has decided independently that its going to have dead tired vibes #if not genuinely dead tired #bats soon #tim pov next

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confessedlyfannish · 6 months ago

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Writing Prompt #14

"You foolish, stupid child," Vlad hisses, pinning Danny to the wall. Danny's eyes turn green as he wraps both his fists around the one Vlad has clenched in his collar, his feet dangling in the air. Vlad leans in, his own eyes burning red.

"When, exactly, did you plan on telling me your biological father was Bruce Wayne?" he says furiously.

Danny's hands drop in surprise. "W-What?" he gasps.

Vlad drops him unceremoniously and he lands on the floor in a heap. Vlad claws at the air in frustration.

"Don't lie to me, boy." Vlad says, omitting his often used possessive "my" in front of "boy".

"How do you know that?" Danny asks warily, propping himself up. He watches Vlad push a shaking hand through his hair. The man looks down at him before dropping in an ungainly squat beside him.

"Of all the sperm donors, Bruce Wayne, Daniel? Really?" The man asks, despairingly.

"I didn't exactly choose him, Vlad."

"No, I suppose you didn't."

"Seriously," Danny says, watching the man rock back on his heels as a growing pit forms in his stomach. "How did you know about him?"

Vlad's mouth twists bitterly. "Because he now knows about you."

"What do you—"

"Vladdy! Danno! What are the two of you doing on the floor?" Jack flops down beside them, a tray of freshly prepared fudge in his hands. "We having a heart-to-heart boys? Let me in on this!"

"Jack," Vlad says. "If you truly want to have a heart-to-heart with your son, I suggest you tell him the real reason I've come over today."

Jack's face falls.

"Vlad," Maddie says from behind him. "Thank you for coming. We're grateful for all you've done, but I think we can handle it from here."

"Madeline," Vlad says, rushing to his feet. "I must insist—"

"And I must insist you see yourself out," Maddie smiles tightly. "You know where the door is, don't you?"

"Mads," Jack says gently, looking between the two.

"I can show him out," Danny says, getting up as well.

"That's alright, Danny," Maddie says. "Why don't you go get your sister? We need to have a talk...as a family."

Danny glances at Vlad.

"Now, Danny," Maddie says. Danny heads for the stairs, pit growing ever larger.

The next time they meet it is Danny who has Vlad pinned, the gaudy chandelier above him shaking with the force of his rage.

"You should've told me," Danny growls.

"I thought your parents had you informed," Vlad says, utterly unbothered by the teen cracking what is thankfully not a load-bearing wall of his mansion. "Honestly Daniel, we could throw around allegations of deception on both sides, particularly mine as I assume you've known for quite some time now, if not the entire time, about your father hmm?"

Danny's eyes flick away in an obvious tell.

"Yes, I thought as much. But rather than whinging about being blindsided, I suggest we focus our energy on the solution."

Danny drops Vlad, barely biting back a snarl when the man lands gracefully on both feet.

"Which is?" Danny asks.

"First of all, your well-meaning but frankly moronic parents seem to believe that they can make a case for your custody without the assistance of my legal team. It is in both of our best interests to dissuade them of this."

"They don't like feeling indebted, Mom in particular."

"Well, to be crude for a moment Daniel, tough shit. Yes," Vlad says in response to Danny's widening eyes, "I said it. Bruce Wayne has the best of the best on his payroll and your parent's rinky-dink attorney from the local practice won't stand a chance against Friedman & Sons. Especially once he establishes paternity."

"He can do that?" Danny asks. "I mean I'm almost eighteen, can't I just refuse?"

"The keyword here, Daniel, is almost. As in, you are not. The judge can take your wishes into consideration, but I suspect Wayne will make a case for an unsafe living environment alongside his paternity to win his petition for full custody."

"Un-unsafe living environment?" Danny sputters. Vlad eyes the boy dryly before gesturing to all of him, currently clad in silver and black hazmat. Danny drops the transformation with a wince.

"In fact, I suspect that's the main reason the man filed in the first place," Vlad continues. "Lord knows he doesn't need anymore heirs to fight over his fortune once he passes—"

"Jesus, Vlad,"

"—so I believe he did some digging and found your home to be, well, wanting. On paper, Daniel, your parents sound eccentric at best, dangerous at worst. Pull the right strings, and hospital records just fall into laps. He probably thinks he's rescuing you." Vlad sneers. "If only he knew how quick you are to spit in the face of one offering you a comfortable and wealthy home."

"Fuck off," Danny says. "Is that what this is about? If you can't have me, no one can?"

Vlad rolls his eyes. "Come now, Daniel. Are you really intending to keep up this pretense?"

"What are you talking about?"

"We agreed a long time ago that no matter the nature of our quarrel, we would leave the Justice League out of it," Vlad says, taking a menacing step forward. "You think I, running in the circles I do, would have no knowledge of Bruce Wayne's alter-ego?" He takes another step, voice rising. "I have avoided drawing The Batman's attention for years, no matter how often our paths crossed. I stayed under his radar for decades, and now, BECAUSE OF YOU, I AM ABOUT TO BE RUINED."

With a creak and a groan, the chandelier drops, landing between them with a crash. Danny coughs from the dust as Vlad takes a heaving, calming breath.

"Then why get involved at all?" Danny asks, staring at the ground.

Vlad sighs, clapping his hands twice. Several ghosts dressed in service uniforms fly out the woodwork, gathering up bits of chandelier as others begin to mop.

"Because, little badger," Vlad says, walking away from the mess. "If we lose this, he'll have you in the palm of his hands. Which is infinitely worse."

Entering the kitchen, he pulls an open bottle of white out of the kitchen fridge and pours himself a glass, throwing a Fiji water to Danny who takes it for the peace offering it is.

"He won't."

"Won't what, Daniel? Please speak in full sentences."

"Won't have me," Danny says, letting a thin coat of frost spread over the bottle. He tips the freezing cold water into his mouth and wipes his face with his sleeve, mostly to see Vlad grimace.

"Why, because you'll run away if he wins? Until you turn eighteen? I won't have you fail to complete your education because of a cockamamie scheme, Daniel—"

"Because I have a solution, Vlad, one that doesn't involve the courts or running away."

"And what is that, exactly, Daniel?"

"You're going to leave my family alone."

"Danny," Mr. Wayne says, blinking in surprise at the boy on his doorstep and miles away from Illinois.

"I mean it," Danny says firmly. "You're going to drop your petition and whatever smear campaign you were planning on and leave the Fentons alone."

"Danny...why don't you come inside?"

Danny takes a step back from the manor's large doors. "You want a relationship with me? Brute force isn't the answer."

Bruce takes in the teenager, lanky but almost to his eye level. His eyes are clear and sharp, his demeanor forcibly calm.

"I debated whether going through the court was the right thing to do," Bruce says slowly, matching calm with calm. "But I wanted to be above board."

"Because my adoption wasn't?" Danny says, arms crossed. "Yeah, I'm aware. Kinda hard to adopt a kid that doesn't legally exist. And I know what you're going to say, the Fentons should've reported me to the system, but they didn't do it because I begged them not to. Because I didn't want my biological parents to find me."

"Danny..."

"You can swing your dick around and get your way, exactly the way I thought you would do things," Danny says, "Or you can have a relationship with me on my terms. A relationship where I don't despise you because you took me away from the people who've loved me no matter their faults."

"You're asking me to choose your happiness over your safety." Bruce says carefully.

"That's bullshit," Danny says. "I had a lab accident when I was fourteen and went directly against my parents' instructions. They trusted me, and I made a mistake."

"It's not a matter of trust. You were a child, Danny, and you almost died." Bruce says, not bothering to feign ignorance. Footsteps echo behind him.

"Bruce?" A voice calls. "Is that..?"

"Your son did die," Danny says. "He took a flight with your credit card to Ethiopia and got blown up. I bet you trusted him too."

Bruce reels back as a hand lands on his shoulder, the other on the door.

"Whoa, whoa, uh, Danny, right? I'm Tim, I'm—"

"I know who you are," Danny says, clenching his fists. Powering through the hurt he is causing. "I didn't come here to point out what a total hypocrite you are. I just want you to back off. And if you give me your number, we can text and I'll come to Gotham for Thanksgiving or the ski chalet in Vermont or your villa in where-the-fuck-ever and you can be Uncle Bruce that I maybe even tolerate being around once in a while. Just leave my family alone."

"Bruce, what is he talking about?" Tim asks. "Back off of what?"

"Your Dad is suing my parents for full custody," Danny says when it becomes clear Bruce isn't answering.

"What?" Tim hisses, turning to Bruce. "That isn't what we talked about!"

"Danny. I..."

"Here," Danny says, thrusting an index card forward that he's scrawled his phone number and email onto. On the other side is the past participle conjugation for 'venir'. "I won't answer until you drop the custody petition. Which I expect you to do by tomorrow morning."

"Done," Tim says, stepping past Bruce and taking the card. "Give me about noon to get it all squared away with the lawyers. Do you have a hotel? A way home? I'd be happy to reimburse your flight and accommodation."

"Overstepping already."

"Fair enough," Tim says coolly, raising his hands. "Our lawyers will reach out when it's settled."

"Great. Bye." Danny says, turning to leave. He waits until he hears the manor door close behind him before pulling out his cell phone.

Ring!

"Hello?"

"It's done."

"What's done? Again, little badger, full sentences, I beg of you."

#danny phantom #dp x dc #dp x dc crossover #dp x dc prompt #bruce wayne #batman #he is trying #listen he's not a shitty parent but he's had to rescue a lot of kids and i think it probably skews his perception #like does he look at danny and see another tim situation? probably #meanwhile tim is all too aware of that #tim “mister independent” wayne upon seeing danny cutting bruce to the quick: game recognizes game #vlad: overshadows all the billionaires EXCEPT THAT ONE #vlad the first time he goes to a wayne gala: exploring and gathering blackmail time! hmm what is this cave oh fuck oh shit oh fuck #vlad: young badger we should never involve the justice league in the ghost world and here's why- danny: agreed vlad: well that was easy #danny took a plane using vlad's miles #first class sipping a chocolate milk #is danny an al ghul? keeping it ambiguous on purpose #my writing #dp x dc au

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chaiisms · 5 months ago

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BALDURS GATE 3 PARTY BANTER PROMPTS LIST.

all of the following prompts are taken from party banter between the companions in larian studios' baldurs gate 3 (2023). there should be no spoilers! also, a disproportionate amount of these are from astarion and karlach. i'm not sorry.

I am enjoying our walks together, aren't you, [ name ]?

You'll be as depraved as the rest of us in no time.

Friend of yours?

Were you always so sneaky?

If there's hope for me there's hope for anyone.

How are we not there yet? My feet are killing me.

This is what I get for trying to strike up conversation.

We're not going to have trouble, are we?

If we continue this way, we may get too close for comfort.

Don't get too comfortable. We shouldn't overstay our welcome in such a place.

Do you have pet names for each other yet?

[ name ]! Was that a joke?

You know what - that is not the easiest of questions for me to answer.

Given your own nature, are you really the one to judge?

You can read?!

I'm surprised - I expected you to turn your back once you got what you wanted.

I wouldn't know a flirtation if you whacked me alongside the head with it.

Why stay somewhere safe and comfortable when we could be in mortal peril?

Can't say I love what they've done with the place.

I'm learning to enjoy the taste of chaos. Count me in.

At least you didn't tell me to 'be myself'.

You have so much to learn. Repeat after me: honey muffin, sweetie pie, sugarplum.

Nice to be in a crowd of normal people for once.

So [ name ], how is your sad, hopeless pining going?

You seemed a million miles away just then.

I fear I've been rather hasty to judge you, [ name ].

Ready to enter the belly of the beast?

Step one of starting a conversation: think before you speak.

I hear your relationship has taken on a new aspect recently…

All right, just keep it down. We're conspicuous enough without your hyena call.

Not one for roughing it, I see.

Why not have a little fun?

You're right, of course. Forgive me.

My money's on you, [ name ].

The echoes - listen! They're coming from three directions!

Want me to carry you?

Feeling at home?

Treat them right, or you'll have me to answer to.

Oh, darling, would you?

No doubt they found me too intimidating.

A girl could get used to this.

Now I don't know what to believe.

Well - yes, it was a joke.

I know that, too. It just wasn't funny.

And here I thought I rubbed you the wrong way.

Man, it's good to be home. First round on who?

Oh, I wouldn't actually leave. After all, where would you be without me?

You've quite the knack for finding the bright side of things, haven't you?

Well what would impress you, then?

Let's just stop this conversation right here, shall we?

Must've been an awful day for the people who lived here

You've clearly thought this through a great deal. I'm impressed and appalled in equal measure.

Sure, but think of the stories you'll be able to tell.

I never was scared of the shadows.

I know you're not really as heartless as all that.

I judged you wrongly. I'm sorry.

Are you charging for this sage advice, or is sticking your nose into my business just a hobby?

Pragmatism, thy name is [ name ].

That's ironic, coming from you.

We're either very clever or very lucky.

You do not need luck to survive, [ name ]. Not when you have me.

That will make getting word to my mother rather tricky.

Stop gawking at the decor. This place is dangerous.

I can't tell if you're joking.

So, what's it like caring for someone other than yourself, [ name ]?

You think I'm beautiful?

I feel it too. Here if you need a pick-me-up.

Yet another thing we have in common. We're two peas in a pod.

Is it so unbelievable that they would simply like me?

Use your words.

You gonna catch me if I eat a brick?

[ name ], I've heard you talking in your sleep.

Let's never speak of this again.

You can take a day off once in a while, [ name ]

Hey! Something bit me.

Cheer up. It might be all downhill from here.

I love a nice secret hideaway, don't you?

Think the bar is open?

#roleplay meme #roleplay prompts #rp meme #rp memes #rp prompt #rp prompts #chaiisms #revisms #baldurs gate 3 rp #bg3 rp

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lo1k-diamonds · 2 months ago

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Be as it must 💜 Part 5

"Now, calm down. Whatever happens, I’m with you."

PAIRING: Alpha!Jungkook x Omega(f)reader

SUMMARY: You're getting really tired of being whisked away. It's time to put a stop to it.

WORD COUNT: 4.6k

GENRE: ABO, strangers to lovers, fated lovers, smut

RATING: R (explicit)

WARNINGS: kidnapping aftermath, confusion, mentions of abuse

A.N. A huge thank you to @moonleeai for the beta read💜 I couldn't help including everyone 💜 We're nearing the end and the last part is fire 🔥🤭

The ringing in your ears was the first thing you noticed as you came to, making you groan in discomfort. Your mind was too hazy to realize why you felt this way, but then your wrists were released, and you snapped your eyes open.

You sucked in an anxious breath, forcing yourself to face the lights blurring your vision. You were getting sick and tired of all this bullshit kidnapping antics! You rubbed your wrists, now free, and felt the soft pillowy couch under you, but it did nothing to soothe your annoyance. If Jungkook thought this shit was funny—

You stiffened, facing the man in front of you, who was extending a glass of a transparent liquid in your direction.

“Here.”

You frowned as you observed his features, but you didn’t recognize him. Interestingly, he was wearing a designer white suit, and you clenched your jaw. Before, you were too dazed to recognize the musky buttercup invading your nostrils, but now you knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that man was an alpha.

He waved the glass in front of you, and your features twisted just the slightest, displaying your anger and suspicion. You didn’t care who this guy was, but you could instantly tell he was part of the problem. Not only did you want nothing to do with any other alpha or Family, but you also were not a pawn to be pushed around in a stupid alpha game. Did Jungkook lie about even that? It seemed like the kidnapping tradition was up and well.

“You’ll feel better if you drink some water,” he smiled, keeping his offer.

You pursed your lips, sniffing discreetly to confirm that it was water, indeed. Then you looked into those almond-shaped eyes and took the glass with a quiet thank you. It could be the death of you, but your instinct just told you he was nice.

As soon as you drank, he sat and leaned back into a matching armchair with a grin beaming warmth, “So it is true.”

You finished the water and lowered the glass, weary. He could smell your designation, same as you, so there was no point in beating around the bush. “Where am I?”

“The Jung tower,” he smiled affably, and your brow furrowed. If that was supposed to mean something to you, it missed the mark.

“Who are you?”

“I’m Jung Hoseok, at your service.”

Your lips twitched; you sincerely doubted that. Otherwise, you’d be at Jungkook’s apartment right now, not there, next to the head of the Jung Family.

“What am I doing here, Mr Jung?”

“Ahh, that’s hard to explain,” he laughed a bit embarrassedly, then leaned forward. “Maybe we can figure it out together? What’s your name?”

You told him and answered his questions about where you came from, why you were in Seoul, and what the last thing you remembered was. “They injected something,” you said bitterly, rubbing your neck. “And next thing I know, I’m here, talking to you.” He nodded gravely, and you sighed, “I understand your alpha traditions are prehistoric, but one would think your generation would know better than to act like Neanderthals.”

The way he burst out laughing with his hands on his chest made you smile, suddenly not feeling like you were addressing your captor, but a friend.

“You’re absolutely correct, and there’s no one else better to say it!”

He grinned and his phone buzzed, prompting him to text something hastily.

You licked your lips to ask softly, “So… are you going to let me go?”

“Certainly, you’re not a prisoner,” he assured before typing something and putting his phone down.

“And you won’t… harm me?”

“Of course not!”

His wide eyes conveyed shock, and you believed him, though you still reminded him, “But you could. For power.”

“Ah…” He nodded, and his expression became almost solemn, “I could, but it would just lead to more issues. And besides, you’re the omega. You can just tell me to stop, and I’d have a hard time.”

You tilted your head, “But an alpha’s voice is absolute.”

He grinned, “That’s true, but what about an omega’s voice?”

You shuddered and looked down, “So the stories about cutting their tongues or gagging them…”

“Some of them true, surely,” he agreed sadly. “A ruthless way to shift the balance between designations. An alpha’s command is incontestable, but an omega’s plea is undeniable to these alphas. They were seen as a weakness if they could talk.”

“But then, how would they be used as a weapon?”

It was likely a disadvantage that your curiosity sprung out like that, but he satisfied it, “What would you do if your mate was in trouble? Soulmates tend to be very protective, and alphas are probably the worst,” he laughed, rubbing his neck. “Then, don’t forget the worth of blood. An omega's child will always carry the alpha’s designation, so it keeps the line strong.”

You couldn’t bite back your bitterness, “Well, serves you well that you started disappearing in droves, then.”

“Ouch!” He laughed heartily again, “Lessons were surely learned.” His phone buzzed in his hands and he smirked, “Still, it was an honor to meet you.”

He got up with an extended hand for you to shake, and you scurried to do the same, a bit confused.

“You give me the hope that my mate might also be out there somewhere,” he smiled, shaking your hand gently with a head bow.

Your eyebrow twitched, unclear why he was suddenly sending you away and what you were supposed to do, but then you heard it. Beyond the closed door of that office, you recognize someone’s voice that made the hair on the back of your neck stand on end.

Hoseok let go of your hand, and you leaned in to whisper, “Just make sure you don’t kidnap her when you find her. Doesn’t make for a nice icebreaker.”

That was how Jungkook found you — standing with Hoseok, who was laughing his heart out. You turned to look at Jungkook, your hair falling in long dark waves behind your shoulder, and he raced across Hoseok’s office to get to you. To hold you in his arms, sweeping you off your feet, and burying his face in your neck. The relief flooding him was indescribable; he just couldn’t not hold you close to him, even if he knew he shouldn’t. Even if you were still mad at him and meaning to leave him, his heart hurt without you.

But he had to let go of you, only to be met with eyes that sparkled up at him. He touched your chin and was almost sure you felt the same way as him.

“I like her,” Hoseok grinned, stepping away to give you two space. “Even after being told she has power over me, she didn’t wield it.”

Jungkook nodded, eyeing you again. He had barely come to his senses yet; such a hasty instant was not enough to take you in fully, to make sure you were alright and safe. But he still let you go because he could read in your lowering eyes that it was what you wanted. He was thankful you stayed next to him, though.

Facing Hoseok, though, his anger resurfaced, “How did this happen? How did she end up here?”

“I was contacted by someone saying they had a gift that could increase the Jung’s prestige,” he glanced at you, then back at Jungkook, and his expression had lost all gentleness.

“By who?” Jungkook frowned and Hoseok passed him his phone.

“See for yourself.”

Jungkook frowned; it wasn’t a number he recognized, but he dialed it. Only a few seconds were needed for a man to pick up, “Ah, Alpha Jung. Like I said, a legit omega. Delicious, isn’t she? I hope you’re having fun with your new prize.”

Jungkook was so enraged his face was almost blood-red, “You’re fucking done.”

He shut down the call, threw Hoseok’s phone back, then grabbed your hand.

“I know who that is. I’ll call for a meeting immediately. My Family’s punishment is not enough for this perfidious insult.”

He dragged you behind him, utterly confused by what he meant, and Hoseok nodded and gave you a soft head bow as you left. You barely had any time to take in your surroundings, recognizing only a few posters on the wall, which reminded you that the Jung Tower housed multiple studios and productions.

Jungkook dragged you inside the elevator and hit the underground button before pulling you into his arms again, “I’m so sorry.”

You couldn’t bring yourself to push him away, not before, and not now. You were also relieved to see him and touch him again; the way you relaxed in his arms defied the meaning of soothing. Your very soul seemed to ease with his spicy scent tickling your nose, and you pulled him closer.

“Why does this keep happening?” You whispered near his ear, and he pulled away to face you.

“Because we’re all fucking stupid brutes,” his eyes glistened as he brushed your cheek. “I should have increased security around you, this is my fault.”

You grabbed his wrist with a sudden realization, “What about Mr Seung?!”

“He’s in the hospital, he’ll spend the night there, but he’s fine. It was just a drug, he’s not injured.”

You nodded, then closed your eyes with a grimace, “I’m so sorry for him, I dragged him into this.”

“No, this is not your fault.”

Your gaze was hard, “I’m the omega.”

“And everyone else needs to fucking get on with the times,” he said harshly, pulling you closer by the waist.

Yet your eyes drifted, “Maybe it is best if I stay secluded in the village…”

“No, no fucking way,” his tone hardened, making your sad, tired eyes raise back again. It was enough for him to calm down a little, “This is not your fault, and I’ll make sure you get to live the life you want to live. I promise you, we’re going to handle it right now,” his finger brushed your skin so endearingly your eyes watered.

“I know you mean well, but you can’t control everyone,” your tone was soothing as you brushed your thumb over his pulse. “Jung Hoseok was nice, but what if the others aren’t?”

“They are. I might not be able to control everyone, but together, we can deal with this. Just trust me,” he glanced at your lips as the elevator slowed, and your expression held skepticism, but you nodded.

“Sir?”

Jungkook’s eyes lingered on your lips, but then he let go, grabbing your hand instead. He turned to one of his bodyguards awaiting you two at the underground parking lot and gave orders while he took you with him. You didn’t want to let go of his hand, so you followed after him and inside the car that drove away swiftly.

You wanted to trust Jungkook, if nothing else, because your heart seemed to lean on him so much. The car drove you as he made a series of phone calls, but with his arm around you and your head on his chest, you found yourself ready to close your eyes and reset. Everything was alright as long as he was right there.

You didn’t manage to nap, though, because minutes later, you were approaching an extravagant skyscraper; you gasped, the tallest in Seoul. You knew only what everyone knew about it — it was the headquarters of some of the richest financial companies in the world, rumored to own the whole of Southeast Asia in their pockets.

This time, the car stopped right in front of the main entrance, and as you exited the car, taking support from Jungkook’s hand, another car stopped behind yours. Hoseok exited that vehicle with a smile and waved for you to go ahead. Jungkook brought you inside surrounded by his bodyguards, as you saw other cars stopping until a big mass of muscle prevented you from seeing anything anymore.

“Alright, how do you feel?” His long fingers drew your chin up, but he frowned before you could answer, “You look pale. Maybe we should take a moment. Do you want to drink something? Go to the bathroom? Eat? Maybe a chocolate would—”

“Jungkook—”

But your protest fell on deaf ears, “Gosh, what I am saying! I should take you to a hospital first, this can wait!”

His hand let go of your chin to grab your hand, but before it could, you threw your arms around his shoulders and cupped his cheeks, “Stop. I’m fine. You said you’d handle it right now, and I trust you.” Your heart skipped with the proximity, but you were too entranced to withdraw. “I’m ready, so let’s do it.”

You wondered if the proximity hit him too because he stayed quiet, observing your features with fascination. It was only because of the nearing commotion that his eyes snapped beyond you, prompting him to grab your hand and drag you away again.

“What is the maknae doing?”

Someone chuckled with a perfect, gorgeous grin often featured on billboards, and someone shorter with rose-blond hair replied, “The scent is goddamn intense.”

His fingers raked the luscious waves, and Hoseok smacked his shoulder, “Right?”

“I think he’s hiding her,” a baritone teased, a boxy grin following suit.

“I’d hide her too,” the tallest shrugged, adjusting his shirt collar.

“Let’s get on with it,” an impatient one voiced, shoving his hands inside his pockets, and Hoseok hurried to massage his shoulders.

“Eager to meet her, huh? Don’t hide it, we all feel the same,” he grinned, despite the other’s stink eyes and chuckles. “Let’s go.”

You didn’t know what you had to prepare for, so you couldn’t exactly relax. You had smoothed your dress pants and washed your face as much as you could without ruining your makeup, and gone to the bathroom at Jungkook’s request.

You had thrown him a look of disbelief, but he insisted, “Come on, just trust me.”

Raking your fingers through your long, wavy hair, you wondered what exactly was coming, but there was nothing like facing it head-on.

Jungkook was waiting for you and waved a white package in his hand, “I hope you like them, couldn’t find much else.”

You chuckled, “And why do I need Whoppers?”

“Because you’re still pale,” he pouted, taking the chance to brush your cheek.

You sighed but took the package, opening it to start eating it one by one. “So, what are we doing?”

“Meeting some important people,” he also reached inside the bag, and you let him.

“And you’re worried I’ll pass out or something?”

“Do I need to remind you that you were drugged?”

He frowned, and you shrugged, “I feel fine. Tired, but fine.” He didn’t seem to buy it, so you popped another chocolate ball in your mouth, “By the way, did you take a look at the agreement?”

His eyes grew so wide, you started laughing.

“How can you even think about that right now?!”

You smirked mischievously, “Trying to get your mind off things… Worked, didn’t it?”

“You’re crazy,” he grumbled, digging his fingers into the Whoppers package still in your hand.

Soon, he gave up with a pout because the package was empty, and you grinned slyly. You raised your other hand, displaying the last precious cookie ball covered in chocolate.

“I saved the last one just for you,” you crooned, bringing it to his mouth. He parted his lips and took it with glistening eyes fixed on you and pink cheeks matching them delightfully. “Now, calm down. Whatever happens, I’m with you.”

He caught your hand before it withdrew and pressed his lips to your soft skin. You couldn’t have known how your words warmed his heart, the only one that had the power to truly calm him. He was certain of who you were to him, of what it all meant, but what if you decided something else? Someone else? It would shatter his heart. But looking at your genuine smile, he knew that wouldn’t happen.

He did want you to be relatively at ease before he dragged you into the fray. It would likely be very intense for you, and he couldn’t imagine the toll it would take, both physically and mentally. Maybe it would be a breeze, seeing how you were comfortable with Hoseok, but who knew. When he imagined what meeting seven of you would feel like, he always concluded his heart would blow.

Upon exiting the elevator and before reaching the main conference room on the last floor, he still couldn’t stop himself from kissing your forehead. You looked at him with curiosity and a small smile, but he just bit his lip and stepped aside. It was now or never.

You didn’t have time to tease Jungkook about his nervousness; in a split second, he pushed the double doors open. A myriad of overwhelming scents hit your senses so hard you swayed on your feet. Only his hand still in yours kept you steady.

If Jungkook’s heady scent was strong, and Hoseok’s was musky, that unruly mix was all of that amplified at least seven times for each alpha in that room. Jungkook closed the door behind you as he guided you in slowly, and you were thankful he was with you.

That meeting room had a particular half-circle shape with large windows showing the night of Seoul as the backdrop. Yet, it was not the fact that you were entering the room to stand facing the table that rendered you jittery, but the six men sitting, waiting.

From left to right, one was more handsome and imposing than the next. Your eyes passed over each one of them, your olfactory sense working overtime to discern and associate each smell.

From the right to the left, you started by Hoseok, who gave you a reassuring smile. The buttercup scent wasn’t intimidating and instead served to give you confidence. Next to him, a very pale alpha with sharp eyes and long fingers holding his chin observed you with the abyss in his eyes. His woody, strong, aromatic, resinous smell lingered, especially when you tried to clear your throat.

Next to him, the most perfect man you had ever seen smelled sweet and citrusy, and it easily mixed with every other scent in the room. He was intrigued by your presence, but you didn’t feel threatened, if anything, because he kept throwing looks and smirks at Jungkook.

At the center sat the tallest one, with shoulders so bulky you were forced to acknowledge there were people bigger than Jungkook. His scent, akin to almonds, diffused pleasurably in your nose, contrasting greatly with his sharp, near-draconian eyes. You had never seen such astute eyes in anyone but yourself.

The alpha next to him was sitting with his head supported on his hand with a boxy smile that rivaled the beauty of movie stars. In fact, you vaguely recalled having seen him on TV before. His tones were fresh, albeit sweet, like pineapples.

Lastly, before the empty seat you assumed belonged to Jungkook was a rose-blond man covering the front of his face with wide, shocked eyes set on you. His scent reminded you of honey and spring, easily taking your senses to another time and place if you let it.

“Can you blame her?” The woody-scented alpha rasped, bringing you to the conversation. His voice was so deep it covered you with goosebumps. “It must be overwhelming.”

“It surely is to us,” his fresh scent matched his gorgeous smile.

“It definitely is,” the last one mumbled, uncovering his mouth. He was likely as sweet as he smelled, but your mind didn’t linger on that.

“But this is necessary,” claimed the center one, and you swallowed, straitening your back.

“Indeed, I want this dealt with as soon as possible,” Jungkook said to your side, and your brow furrowed at the fierce look in his eyes. He didn’t seem nervous, but he surely was angry again.

“Maybe we should start by introducing everyone?” Hoseok suggested, smiling. “I sure wanted to know her name as soon as I met her.”

His quip made everyone shift or grunt uncomfortably, but Jungkook nodded, “That will help.”

You glanced at him, feeling the squeeze of his hand, then faced the table.

“I’m Jung Hoseok, as you already know,” he smiled warmly, and you nodded.

“I’m Min Yoongi,” he said quietly, and you instantly recognized him from all the Grammy media coverages.

“Hello, I’m Kim Seokjin,” he gave you a soft head bow, his heart-shaped lips pursing cutely with a smile.

You frowned just a little, wondering more about his name, when the center, and potentially the leader, spoke up, “I’m Kim Namjoon, nice to meet you.”

You suddenly held your breath, realizing just who you were facing.

“I’m Kim Taehyung, but you might know me as V,” he smiled, quirking his eyebrows.

“Woah, are we saying our credentials?” The blond next to him complained, “How are we supposed to compete with that?”

“Jimin—”

“Just wrap it up,” Jungkook asked, his fingers tapping the side of his leg.

“Right, I’m Park Jimin.”

“I thought the Parks were gone,” you said under your breath, and he nodded.

“Not many of us left, and we like to keep to ourselves.”

“All of you… Shouldn’t there be only four families?”

Maybe you should have thought before voicing such a question, but as usual, you felt pretty lost in all things related to Families and Alpha dynamics.

“Officially,” Namjoon acceded, making you feel comfortable that you asked.

“The public believes only four families remain,” Hoseok explained. “The Kim, Min, Jung, and Jeon Families.”

You looked at each one, and Jin waved his hand, meaning he was the Kim Alpha.

“But in reality, despite a few obstacles to be recognized, the other lines exist,” Namjoon continued, motioning the whole room with a wave.

“Recognized?”

You wondered, and Taehyung grinned, “Some of us descend from bastard lines.”

“Or from non-approved matings sort of lost in time,” Jimin added with a shrug.

“What matters is that we’re all the living Family representatives by blood,” Yoongi established, dark, unsettling eyes fixed on you.

“Now the real question is how you are not in the Omega registry,” Jin mused, rubbing his chin.

You raised an eyebrow, “Is that really that surprising considering there are three Families with living descendants that are also not registered?”

Jin’s eyebrows jumped, and you heard Jungkook hide a chuckle; unbeknownst to you, you had just caused a ripple.

“Seriously?” Jin asked with incredulity. “She’s his. I don’t need to hear anything about it anymore,” he scoffed playfully.

“It’s not forbidden to match Omegas not in the registry with a ruling Alpha, so let’s just get on with it,” Yoongi agreed.

“Wait, we are not here to approve it,” Namjoon argued, glancing at Jungkook. “We’re here to pass judgement on a crime.”

“A crime?” Jimin raised his eyebrow.

“You mean that stupid agreement you have with the Han family?” Taehyung voiced, snapping his fingers, “What is it, to marry the— what’s her name?”

“Han Sunhwa,” Hoseok answered, seeing Jungkook’s bitterness was clenching his jaw shut.

“Right, her?” Taehyung scoffed, “That’s a crime, alright.”

“But we can’t do anything to stop that,” Jin pointed out with a purse of his lips. “Your Family approved it.”

“They’ll quickly annul it once they learn what happened tonight,” Jungkook almost spit, finally raising his voice. “What I want is to punish the Hans for daring to go this far.”

“What did they do?” Jimin asked, glancing at you before looking back at Jungkook. Just then, you knew he was not to be messed with and understood why you were standing there.

Jungkook was waiting for that moment and tightened his grip around your hand, “My Family had hunters searching Busan for omegas, and they found her.” He glanced at you, and there was an apology in the glint of his eyes. “I didn’t even know they were still searching. With the marriage contract and all, I never thought they’d do it, but she was brought to me.” He couldn’t stop looking at you, and every other alpha in that room understood why. “I should have realized the Hans would be an issue,” he admitted, finally facing the others. “At first, Sunhwa wanted to get rid of her, saying she was a fake.”

Five scoffs were heard, along with one, “Ridiculous.”

“Then she stormed my apartment and caused a scene, which was completely inappropriate, but I decided not to say anything. My father is currently overseas, but once he returns, he’ll see to annul the contract and compensate them, so I thought I could just let it go,” he heaved a deep breath, feeling stupid with his own admission. “But tonight, they have fucking done it. They hijacked her car, drugged her, and took her to give her away to Hoseok like a fucking offering.”

Everyone turned to Hoseok, who nodded.

“And I know it’s them because I called the number that made the offer on hyung’s phone. And wouldn’t you know it, it was Sunhwa’s older brother telling Hoseok to fucking enjoy her—”

The bile rising in his throat choked him as he squeezed your hand so tight, you knew the blood flow was cut off.

“Woah, who do they think they are?” Seokjin scoffed.

“The audacity,” Yoongi leaned back into his seat.

“They must think they’re untouchable,” Taehyung mused with a dark tone.

“As though we’re not the ones allowing them to exist,” Jimin added, matching Taehyung with a hint of fury.

“You two found each other,” Hoseok started.

“And you’re meant for each other,” Namjoon finished.

All eyes turned to you, and suddenly, the pressure made gravity almost crush you to the ground. You took a deep breath as you glanced at Jungkook. His lips were a line that almost drew on apprehension, but you weren’t going to deny the truth. That was not why you were silent; it just wasn’t something you wanted to discuss in front of strangers.

You turned to the other alphas and nodded, “I thought you didn’t need to hear anything about it anymore.”

The mood lightened significantly with Jin’s chuckle, and only two people didn’t relax — Jungkook next to you, and Jimin.

“The Han family needs to be punished,” he almost hissed.

“Yeah, can’t have anyone thinking that they can mess with our mates and pretend like nothing happened,” Taehyung supported, holding his chin with his gaze on you.

“Let alone allow them to become elite after such a betrayal,” Hoseok said coldly, and you finally saw how he could be when he was angry.

“They will use this marriage to rule over every other beta family,” Jin pointed out as though it was ludicrous.

“And that’s bad business to begin with, but now we can officially ostracize them,” Yoongi nodded quietly.

They started debating the nitty grits, weighing their options and just how much was enough to set an example and leave Jungkook satisfied, but not an abuse of power.

You stood quietly through it all, feeling slightly off. You agreed no one should go through something like this, omega or not, but everything else was above your pay grade. Effectively, aside from pointing out the legality of an idea Jin threw out once, you stayed quiet, mostly stealing glances at Jungkook.

You said what you said in front of all the heads of the Families — Jungkook was for you as you were for him. But there was still a lot to talk about. Regardless of what those seven men decided, your heart was another matter, and you were not set on a future; not yet.

182 notes · View notes

trippinsorrows · 2 months ago

Text

ltye: in your hands

authors note: welp. here i am, once again. we're back with yet another 'what if' scenario, prompted by you lovely people in an ask that i can't seem to find to link right now. smh.

words: 3.3k

warnings: none. just sam being sam.

song inspo: in your hands by halle

Roman should have stuck with his first mind. Stayed home. Texted her some excuse about being caught up with work. She would have never found out the truth, and even if she did, he wouldn’t have given two fucks.

Because this shit doesn’t seem to be getting any better.

This dating thing.

It’s gotta be at least the fifth or sixth one he’s taken her on, and each one has been just as miserable up until the point where he gets her on her knees, gagging or bouncing on his dick the minute they get back to his penthouse. Anything before that has been irksome, borderline miserable.

Samantha is stunning. Has been since they were kids, and her body is the most desirable of the women he has on his roster. She leans on the thinner side of what he prefers, but the tits and ass are decent, regardless. She’s also just as kinky as him, which is why they’ve worked all these years.

But, the more “dates” Roman forces himself to power through, the more he’s starting to feel like bedroom activities is where it stops for them.

Technically, he’s always known this. Even if he did have some level of desire to be in a real relationship with someone, which he doesn't, it would never be her. She’s vain, condescending, and seems to think she’s somehow better than the other women he fucks with.

If only she realized he views her just like he views the rest of the women. A warm body with a wet cunt to help him get his dick wet.

“Roman!” Her voice cuts through his inner dialogue as he focuses on her cleavage. The dress she wore, short and tight, doesn’t help his desire to skip to the fucking part of this evening. “Did you hear what I said?”

“No.” Roman sees no sense in lying to her. “I probably don’t care either.”

She rolls her eyes and proceeds to continue like he literally didn’t just tell her he doesn’t care. “I was saying we should go somewhere.”

He’s partially intrigued now. Mostly because he’ll probably need to set her ass straight. “Where?”

She smiles and shrugs. “I don’t know. I was thinking Bora Bora.”

He shakes his head. “So go.”

She frowns, clarifying. “I said we should go, Roman.”

He scoffs, looking off at the ice sculpture in the middle of the upscale restaurant. A waste of money, in his opinion. “What the hell makes you think I have time to go to fucking Bora Bora with you?” He really wants to ask her what makes her think he would want to in the first place, but he’s trying to be somewhat less of an asshole to see if maybe this could work.

His Wise Man’s nervous voice balanced out with sage wisdom returning to the front of his mind.

“If the Elders are to force you into a marriage, why not with someone you already know? Especially someone who you know would have no issue in giving you an heir.”

If only Samantha wasn’t so fucking annoying.

She leans back in the chair. “You make time for these dates.”

Out of obligation. But, he won’t say that. “Yeah, but I can get my nut and send your ass packing in the same night. Can't do that if we're out of the fucking country.”

“You’re suck a di—”

“I’m so sorry.”

Soft. It’s the first thing that comes to mind hearing her voice. Light, almost. Kind. Even with just three words being spoken. And that’s just based off audio. Visually, Roman’s thoughts take an entirely different direction.

Stunning.

Roman’s seen, entertained, and done a lot more with some beautiful women in his time, but the one standing at their table seems to have something more than all of them put together. She’s beautiful, easily one of the most gorgeous women he’s ever laid eyes on. And her smile, small but genuine makes him pause. As does her body.

She’s wearing the same uniform he’s noticed on the other waitresses, but none of them fill them out like she does. The white, long sleeved shirt that’s tucked into the knee length black pencil skirt can’t hide the curves he can practically see through the bland outfit. Nice, heavy breast. Curvy hips, thick thighs and an ass he can partially see from the front.

This. This is his preferred body type. A woman who has something he can grab onto when he’s fucking her from behind. And Roman can only imagine what it would be like to be holding onto those luscious hips of hers while he—

“Oh my god, are you stupid?” Samantha’s annoying voice once again pulls him from his carnal fantasies. She gestures between herself and him. “Can you not see we’re in the middle of something?”

The girl, who Roman would guess is in her late twenties, early thirties at most, immediately looks repentant. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—I was just going to apologize for your wa—”

“Whatever.” Samantha lifts her hand, silencing the girl who’s now looking down at her shoes, clearly embarrassed. “What’s the special for this evening?”

“What’s your name?” Roman’s question comes out at the same time as Samantha’s inquiry. However, his voice clearly presents with more of a commanding nature.

She swallows. “S–Solana.”

Pretty. Just like her.

Samantha notices the way Roman is looking at her and is fully confused as to why he’s asking this fat troll for her name. She cuts in again, in that same nasty tone. “Hello? I asked you a question.”

Solana is clearly struggling with Samantha’s aggressiveness, Roman wondering why this bitch is directing whatever unresolved feelings she has onto this innocent girl. “Umm, I think—”

Samantha scoffs, nose turned up. “You’re our waitress, and you don’t even know what the evening special is?”

“No ma’am, I do. I’m sorry. It’s just—it’s been a long day.” There’s a weight to her words, a sadness in her voice and in her pretty brown eyes. Roman notices all of these things and finds himself wondering what the story is. Everyone has one, and hers is suddenly of interest to him. For reasons he cannot understand.

“Pretty unprofessional to bring up your personal life, don’t you think?”

Solana closes her eyes, pausing before answering. She looks exhausted. Mentally and physically. “It’s Squab. That’s the main co—”

“I’m a vegetarian. I don’t eat meat.” Roman rolls his eyes. This hoe has been saying that since they were in high school, yet every so often she goes back to having a normal fucking diet only to switch back to that salad shit. “What’s on your—”

“I’ll do us both a favor and get her to shut the fuck up.” Roman has had enough, both of Samantha’s grating voice but mostly her being a bitch to this girl for no reason. He’s a dick on the regular. He knows this. But, never has he come across someone like this Solana woman who, with just her presence alone, exudes such softness. Like, she doesn’t have a mean bone in her fine ass body. And she clearly doesn’t because anyone else would have probably lost their job by cussing Samantha out. Not that it wouldn’t be deserved.

Roman catches the faintest hint of a smile on Solana’s face as she redirects her attention to him. “Give her the salmon. I’ll take your best steak. For wine, you carry Madeira?”

She’s pulled out her notepad and finishes taking down the order before answering with a nod. “Yes, sir.”

Roman’s jaw clenches at that sir bit. He could ruin this girl. “What do you recommend?”

She’s visibly taken back by his question, probably by the fact that he’s asking her for her opinion. “Umm—”

“Roman, I can rec—”

“I didn’t ask you,” he cuts that bitch off with the quickness, eyes never leaving the pretty girl before him. “I asked Solana.”

Her smiles widens as she answers in a more confident tone. “Julio Barros…..1950.”

Roman smirks.

Exactly what he was going to order.

“I’ll take it.”

Their gazes linger on each other a second too long for Samantha’s liking as she cuts in once once more. “You can go now.”

Solana’s smile drops again, Roman suddenly finding himself all annoyed. Her smile is something pretty that he wouldn’t mind seeing more of, though that irritation is waned as he’s granted the view of her nice, round ass and curvy hips swaying as she walks to the back to turn in their order.

Samantha reaches over and touches his hand, Roman snatching it back and sneering at her. “What?”

She sighs. “Baby, I’m trying to talk about us.”

And just like that, he’s annoyed all over again. “There is no us.”

Samantha looks sad only for a brief second. “Roman, I’m not stupid. I know what these dates have been for. You’re trying to see if it could work.”

“If what could work?”

“Us.” She goes on to share. “There’s rumors that the Elders have been putting more pressure on you to settle down and make an heir.” Sam leans over the table, intentionally trying to emphasize her cleavage. It’s nice. He’ll give her that. But, he’s certain it’s nothing compared to Solana though and those big breast of her hers. “I can do that for you. Be that for you. Be your wife. The mother of your children.”

Not a damn thing she’s saying sounds even the least bit desirable. At all.

“I mean, we’ve been fucking around since we were kids. Why not make it official?”

For a lot of reasons. All the reasons. The main one being Roman don’t like this bitch unless she’s choking on or riding his dick.

What he does like, however, and finds solace in is the interactions with Ms. Solana as the evening goes on. They’re not very often outside of her bringing the bottle of wine and their food when it’s ready as well as a check-in here or there on how they’re doing.

Each time Samantha sending her the dirtiest look or just being an ol’e nasty bitch, to which Roman shuts down, cutting her off and even telling her to shut the fuck up.

The girl is just trying to do her damn job. And as his eyes locate and land on her on several different occasions, he can see that she works hard. Moving from table to table, almost saddened facial expression indicates she’s on the receiving end of more verbal lashings from people like Samantha.

That actually pisses him off, Roman having to control and stop himself from doing some out of pocket shit.

Again, for what reason, he hasn’t the slightest clue. He just knows those brief glimpses of her actually smiling, usually when she’s chatting with a coworker, do something for him.

Maybe even to him.

And unbeknownst to him, the intrigue goes both ways, because as shitty a day Solana Miller was having, the handsome stranger with the rude girlfriend or wife or whatever has somehow, someway made this day just a little bit better.

It’s been some time, if ever, Solana has come across someone with such a presence about them. Him dining at this uppity restaurant she was able to score a job at tells her that he’s wealthy. His disposition and the fact that he somehow secured it to where the surrounding tables of where he sits have been marked as unavailable tells her that he has pull. But, the way he interacts with her, a literal nobody, she’s not sure what that means.

Especially with the beautiful woman he’s with, because while Solana thinks she’s every bit a bitch as most of the women who come into this place, she’s a stunning bitch.

Which is why Solana can’t allow herself to believe that that equally beautiful looking man is looking at her in any sort of capacity.

There’s no way in he—

“Solana.”

And just like that, she's frowning again. “Mami?”

The last thing she expected to see this evening was the sight of her mother, already dressed in her scrubs, baby in her arms.

Solana’s baby.

Her 11-month–old daughter, Soraya.

The shock wears off as Nina gets closer, Solana shaking her head, “what are you—”

Nina shakes her head, face apologetic and tone contrite. “I’m so sorry, baby, but I got called into work. I can’t watch Raya.”

Shit

It's inconvenient, but Solana understands it. She remembers the countless times Nina had no other option but to leave her with a neighbor after being called into work at all kinds of hours. She’s always worked so hard to take care of the two of them when Solana was growing up.

“It’s okay, mama.” Solana easily reaches for her daughter, a wave of relief and happiness washing over her as she holds and kisses her baby. The source of all her joy. All of the struggle, every bit of it, is worth it as long as she has her daughter. She’d do anything for her. “How was she?”

Nina gives a small chuckle. “She’s like you were and still are. An easy child.” Solana kisses Soraya’s temple. “Sol…..” And just like that, Solana already knows she’s probably not going to like what she’s about to hear. “I know you’ve said you don’t want to go after him for child support, but it’s not fair for you to be out here working two jobs while putting yourself through school to take care of his child.”

Solana holds Soraya just a smidge tighter. “She’s my baby, mami.”

Nina counters. “She’s his biological child.” Solana looks away, hopeful her manager, Aldis, doesn’t come out and scold her for this little interaction. She’s scheduled to clock out in another half hour anyway. “He should be paying you child support.”

Her mom is right. Solana knows this, knows that it’s not fair for her to have to be the sole provider for her baby girl, while Cruz lives his best life as an absentee, deadbeat dad. And she’s considered on several occasions going to the courthouse to see what she needs to do to get that ball rolling.

But, every time, she’s haunted by something he said the last time they spoke, not even a month after her daughter was born.

“Don’t you get it? We were fine before she came in the picture! We could be fine again if she wasn’t.”

Solana’s never been more disturbed than she was to hear those words leave his mouth. That’s why she’s glad he’s gone, that he wants nothing to do with her or his child. Because she would never trust to leave her baby girl with him in the first place.

And if that means she does it without him contributing financially, that’s exactly what she’ll do.

Solana shifts Soraya from one hip to the other. “I don’t need him, mami.” And she doesn’t. Because if Solana had to resort to sex work to take care of herself and her daughter, it’s exactly what she’d do.

Nina gives a heavy sigh. “Mija, you know I help you when I can.”

“I know.” Because she does. But, the same way that times are hard for her. They’re hard for her mom, too. Everyone’s struggling these days, it seems. Everyone except the rich people who wine and dine without a care in the world around them. “I’ll be okay.”

Always will be.

Nina gives a knowing nod, hugging her daughter and gently taking her granddaughter’s hand, kissing it, speaking in Spanish. “I’ll see you later, okay? Abuela loves you.”

Solana smiles. “Thanks, mama.”

“Always, baby.”

Nina reaches Solana the diaper bag, Solana placing it on the bar stool, knowing it’s bound to be left alone. These rich ass people would never bother with the Ross purchase. With a final parting smile, Nina is off to the hospital, leaving Solana with her daughter who’s just now waking up.

“Hi, baby girl,” Solana giggles at the almost cranky expression on her baby’s face. Raya is definitely not the happiest camper when being woken up.

A glance at the time reminds Solana that she technically is still on the clock and really shouldn’t have her child with her. But, with no other option, she accepts she’ll just have to clock out early and take whatever those consequences are.

But before that, the least she can do is grab the bill from the table where the handsome stranger and his girlfriend sat. She’s briefly disappointed to see the table empty, even if she remembers his deep voice thanking her for her assistance this evening as she brought them that same check earlier.

It’s a silly thing, really. And she tries to push away the disappointment at not properly telling him goodbye. A stranger.

Silly.

Soraya grasps at the collar of her shirt while Solana walks over to the table, pausing as she gets close enough to see that there’s more than just a bill with a signature. There’s cash. A stack of it. Money in hand, she’s confused, because this man paid with a black card, so what—

“Good.”

Solana gaps and spins around, her eyes widening as she looks up. He’s a lot taller than she realized, burly body nearly eclipsing her view of anything else, silky black hair in such a neat, perfect bun. “Wanted to make sure you got it.”

Brows furrowed, it’s hard for her to speak for a lot of reasons. One of which is the fact that this man cannot be real. A man cannot be this handsome. But, he is real, and he’s looking at her.

And Soraya.

“I—” She shakes her head, clearing her throat. “Is this—you already paid—”

“That’s not for the bill,” his voice is so velvety, smooth, and deep. “It’s your tip.”

Eyes widening, her gaze snaps to the wad of cash as Soraya continues to grasp and squeeze her shirt. She doesn’t even need to count to know that this is a nice amount of money.

Too much.

“I can’t—it’s too much.”

He chuckles, “do I look like I can’t afford it?” Her eyes roam over his big, muscular build dressed in fine, expensive looking clothes. He just oozes wealth.

And power.

“N–no.”

“Dealing with Samantha, trust me, you earned it.” Solana looks down, wanting to hide her small smile. His gaze redirects to the child in her arm. “Who is this?”

And just like that, Solana’s proud smile returns. “My daughter, Soraya.” It’s like Soraya knows she’s being discussed, lifting her little head to look at Roman. A big grin on her face before she buries her face into Solana’s neck.

Roman makes a sound, and she can almost swear she sees the smallest smile on his handsome face. “She looks like you.”

That creates such a warm, fuzzy feeling in her stomach, “thank you…..”

He looks at her a bit confused, like her unspoken question surprises him, before answering. “Roman.” Roman. “Roman Reigns.”

Roman Reigns. Even his name is powerful.

It fits him.

Solana shifts Soraya around as she starts to get wiggly in her arms. “Well, thank you, Mr. Reigns.” She’s certain the shock of just how much money this random, rich stranger has given her hasn’t truly set in. Because if it had, she’d have a much more visceral response.

A lot more.

“Roman,” he corrects. “Call me Roman.”

“Roman….”

Something indecipherable flashes in his eyes, something that makes her feel a bit unnerved under his intense stare. It’s broken, however, by her now irritated daughter.

“Mama.” Soraya makes her dissatisfaction at being still for too long known by punching her tiny fist against Solana’s chest. “Mama!”

“Shhhhh,” Solana kisses her temple, trying to quiet her down before someone makes Aldis aware of her presence. She looks at Roman, eyes softening, “thank you again.”

Truly. Honestly. He hasn’t the slightest clue how much this will help her. It’s why she can stand here without anxiety and concern about making it to the bus stop on time. Tonight.....tonight she’ll treat herself and her baby with calling an Uber instead.

Might even stop and pick up dinner.

Roman nods, eyes briefly glancing at her daughter again, the smallest smile on his face. “I’ll see you later, Solana.” His head dips a bit in acknowledgment towards her baby. “Soraya.”

The smile is plastered on her face even as he walks off without another word. And it’s only a good two minutes later that she catches onto what he said. A certain word in particular standing out the most.

What did he mean by later?

#roman reigns fic #roman reigns oneshot #roman reigns fanfic #arisnotebook #ltye things

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beefcakekinard · 6 months ago

Note

BuckTommy intimacy prompts #29 (kisses when they're mad) or #50 (patching up a wound).

Whichever one speaks to you, or a combination of both. Thank you! :)

29. kisses when they're mad +

50. patching up a wound

Buck shifts, restless and uncomfortable, in one of Tommy's kitchen chairs. His left hand rests palm-up on top of a sheet of paper towel on the table while Tommy uses a small pair of sterile tweezers to pick tiny shards of glass from the cuts littering his skin. Tommy's focus is singular, his brow furrowed as he works - normally, this would get Buck all kinds of hot and bothered, but the scratches on his hand itch and the topic of conversation is less than inspiring in that department.

"I'm not mad," Tommy says stiffly. He sounds like Maddie used to whenever Buck had done something particularly bone-headed when they were growing up. Buck has enough self-preservation instinct to bite back a joke about her giving Tommy lessons.

"What, you're just disappointed?" Buck goads. Tommy gives him a sharp look. So much for self-preservation.

"I'm not mad," Tommy repeats, adding, "I'm upset, because my boyfriend seems to have decided for me how I'm going to feel about meeting his parents, and when he didn't like the reaction he picked out for me, he decided to keep me in the dark about them coming to visit."

Buck bristles, straightening his back a little; even though he doesn't want to get back to the tense arguing he'd interrupted by crushing a wine glass in his hand, he doesn't like the way Tommy is characterizing the whole situation.

"That's not fair," he says. Tommy snorts in response and keeps picking glass out of his hand.

"No, it isn't."

"That's not what I meant." Buck tries to pull his hand back; Tommy's hand on his wrist keeps it pinned where it is. "I meant you're not being fair to me."

Tommy gives him another unimpressed look and Buck has to fight the urge to cringe, because yeah, that didn't come out the way he wanted. "I meant," he presses, "you're giving me this, this motive that you've pulled out of- from nowhere, instead of letting me explain."

"So explain," Tommy says, gaze fixed on Buck's palm as he works.

Buck sighs. "You know I don't have the, uh, best relationship with my parents." Tommy nods, so he continues, "And we- we're trying to fix that. But it's something I can kind of, get in my own head about." Buck starts bouncing his leg - he looks away from Tommy, to the calendar he has up on the wall. "I've never introduced them to someone I've dated."

Tommy makes an acknowledging hum and digs deep into one of the cuts on Buck's hand. Buck flinches, his whole body twitching away except for the hand in question, itself still held tight to the table with the warm weight of Tommy's hand on his wrist.

"I thought-" Buck starts, then stops. He feels like he's picking the words out of the air as he says them, and he wants - needs - to get this right. "I want you to meet them," is what he settles on, turning his gaze back to Tommy, wishing he'd look up. He does.

"Technically, I've already met them," Tommy says. "At Maddie and Howie's wedding."

Buck nods without breaking eye contact. "Yeah, yeah, kind of, but that was- that ended up being less formal than I wanted, you know?"

Tommy nods his head back and forth, like he's ceding the point. He sets down the tweezers and grabs an antibacterial wipe from the first aid kit beside him.

"So- so I do, I still want you to meet them," Buck says. He scrunches his face when Tommy gently runs the wipe over his cuts - it stings. "I just... I don't want them to make you uncomfortable."

"Baby, you know I'm a grown man," Tommy says without looking up from his work. He grabs some ointment and starts to spread it carefully over the worst of the cuts. "I can handle people being rude."

Buck nods. "No, I, I know, I do, just..." He sighs again and watches Tommy fix a bandage to the worst of the cuts, a gash in the meat of his palm. When he's done, he releases his hold on Buck's wrist and slips both his hands around Buck's, cradling it without touching his injuries. It kind of makes Buck's eyes burn.

"Is that really why you didn't tell me? Because of how you think your parents will behave?" Tommy asks. Buck pauses, then shakes his head. He doesn't look up, keeps his eyes focused on Tommy's thumb, rubbing circles into Buck's pinky.

"I..." Buck clears his throat. "I was also maybe worried about how I'd behave, around them." He looks up into Tommy's eyes. "Historically, I, uh, I'm not really my best self when they're around."

"I get that," Tommy says, and squeezes Buck's hand tighter between his own. "But believe it or not, I'm not going to run for the hills because you have a hard time with your parents. In fact-" he pauses, leans in a little, and all Buck sees is the blue blue blue of his eyes - "in fact, that's kind of something I'd really like to be by your side for."

Buck can't help himself - he cups Tommy's jaw with his free hand and pulls him forward into a kiss they both sigh their way into. Something inside his chest settles, glowing warm like embers. He pulls back, just far enough to rest their foreheads together, and savours the rasp of Tommy's stubble under his thumb.

"I'm sorry," he whispers. Tommy kisses him again, briefly, lightly.

"I forgive you," Tommy whispers back, and presses into another quick kiss. "And I'm sorry, too. I should have talked to you, instead of getting upset."

Buck smiles. "You're forgiven," he whispers into Tommy's lips. In a minute, they'll get up, clean the first aid detritus from the table and the shards of glass from Tommy's kitchen floor. But for now, before their backs start aching for how they're leaning, they've got this, each other, a whole world created in the bubble between them every time their lips touch. And in this moment, that's all Buck really wants.

#bucktommy #ask tag #my fic #anonymous #prompted fic

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spoilmesweetieforficssake · 1 month ago

Note

Hi I really love your writing! Not sure if you are taking any prompts, no worries if not!

I was wondering if you could something with Melissa x reader similar to Janine and Gregory where they both work at the school and maybe the reader is dating someone but they have a moment like the club scene or PECSA weekend.

Hope you're having a good day lovely human!

Not dead! Nor have I given up on writing or filling the prompts I still have to fill! But a weird thing did happen - I went to a hypnotist show with friends thinking I wouldn't be affected... Long story short, I remember the first fifteen minutes of the show. Apparently, I was in the show for the rest of it. So that was a thing. But that's not the weird thing. The hypnotist said that a side effect of his hypnosis is often a better ability to focus, a quieter mind and less anxious thoughts. I have to hand it to the man, his words seem to be true. An unexpected side effect of this for me though is that it turns out the noise and chatter in my mind actually helps me write my fics. Now it's all a bit quiet in there and it's been hard to get the words out. But, that doesn't mean I don't still love writing - so we're pushing through.

I do have a confession though - this story has two prompts noted at the top of it in my drafts and although I can't find any evidence that I've posted it under either prompt, if I have already posted this and somehow have missed it, please let me know and I shall take the duplicate down.

Anyway, enough about me. Enough rambling. I hope you enjoy!

*~*

It would be easier if she wasn’t nice to you.

If she wasn’t nice to you, she could just be the untouchable, hot as hell, fiery goddess you admired from afar.

But no. She let you sit with her and Barb at lunch. She even brought you lunch after a few conversations had strayed into discussing cooking and favourite recipes during said lunch breaks.

How were you meant to get over your ridiculous crush when she actually gave you the time of day? When she smiled like that? When her whole face lit up and she gestured so animatedly when she got caught up talking about something?

And as if that wasn’t enough, how were you ever meant to recover after seeing her so soft with her students? Going out of her way to open up to them and help them.

It was ridiculous, though. You knew that. What good was ever going to come of it?

Kid. That’s what she calls you. It’s a constant reminder of the age gap between you. Of the chasm that you feel you can’t even begin to cross when she sees you as some eager little kid.

You’ve always had a thing for older women. From those early, confused days of watching your on-screen idols, to realising you didn’t want to be them. You didn’t want to be friends with them. You just wanted them.

You want one in particular, but as you look across at her, her red hair ablaze in the sunshine, you force those feelings down once more. If friendship is what she’s offering you’re not about to beat her with that olive branch. You’ll deem yourself lucky and move on.

Even if she has ruined you for anyone else.

*~*

“You know,” drawled Barbara. “It’s beginning to become a habit.”

“What is?” asked Melissa, turning to face her friend with a frown.

“Staring at her,” said the older woman, eyebrow raised.

The red head scoffs. “As if. I don’t know what you think you’re seeing but that ain’t it.”

It was all said in jest to begin with. Gentle teasing about a few wayward glances. That was until Barb started to see her best friend be genuinely nice to you.

To begin with, she tolerated you. You weren’t one of the eager little puppies she so often saw when it came to younger new hires. That much was evident from the start. You were an old soul. You carried a different energy.

One that Melissa apparently appreciated just as much as the view. Barb stood beside her the red head as they watched over the kids leaving school, keeping an eye on the them as they left for the day, making their way to busses, rides or parents. Or rather, Barb was keeping watch over the children. A quick glance at Melissa confirmed that her attention was directed at you where you stood a little way off, chatting happily with a young girl about the book she was waving at you as she waited for her mother to collect her.

“Girl…”

“Don’t,” sighed Melissa, crossing her arms across her chest.

That took Barb by surprise. She had expected the red head to deny it. “You mean?”

“It’s stupid. She’s some pretty young thing and I’m…older than I care to admit.”

Turning to look at her friend, her expression sad, the older woman reached out and placed a comforting hand on the other woman’s arm. “And? What’s it called? A Spring, Winter romance?”

“May, December,” corrected Melissa automatically. “But same thing.”

“Exactly” said Barb. “There’s a name for it and everything. It’s a thing.”

“It’s not a thing,” huffed the red head, turning on her heel and heading back into the building. “It’s stupid and I’ll get over it, just like I do everything else in my life.”

*~*

You’re not sure you’re entirely on board for PECSA.

Out of school, things are different. Lines are blurred and you’re seeing a whole different side to your colleagues. You’re not sure if it’s liberating or terrifying. And that’s before you add in the factor of the other teachers who have also been set free from the constraints of the classroom and are now loose in the wild.

You’re sure your confusion must show on your face, particularly when at the end of one of the breakout sessions you find yourself caught up in conversation with a striking older woman who teaches at another school across town.

You don’t see Melissa at first, who watches the interaction with interest. She’s not used to seeing you outside of school, and it takes her back to realise that the woman is flirting with you. Openly and blatantly flirting with you. She’s touching your arm, leaning into you. Smiling and laughing.

In return, you know you’re blushing something terrible, especially when the woman hands you a page from her notebook with her number scrawled across it. Watching the woman walk away, throwing you a smile over her shoulder to you, you finally see the red head standing in the doorway where she said she’d meet you so you could head for lunch together.

“She not a bit old for you?” she asks as you approach, your blush still heating your cheeks.

You frown. “If she looks like that and thinks I’m hot enough to give me her number, they’re the numbers I’m interested in,” you reply, heading in the direction of the lunch buffet.

Barb overhears the comment, unable not to smirk at your flash of sass. “Jealous?” she asks, leaning into the red head’s space.

“Of what?” barks Melissa, crossing her arms across her chest as she watches you go. “Oh leave off!” she snarks at the older woman’s raised eyebrow.

How the day has gone from serious talks and breakout sessions to cocktails by the pool you’re still trying to wrap your head around. Adjusting your cover up, you head around the side of the pool, heading for the bar. You hope the day starts to feel a little bit more normal with a drink in your hand.

Gazing out over the water, you catch sight of Melissa. Or rather, you catch sight of a lot more of Melissa than you’ve ever had the privilege of seeing before. Not looking where you’re walking as your eyes drink in the magnificent view there’s no saving yourself as you step forward and your foot finds water instead of concrete.

“Is that?” Melissa asks incredulously at the dramatic splash that comes from the other side of the pool. She’s up out of her lounger before Barb can comment and the older teacher can only watch on in amusement as the red head storms off in your direction.

You pull yourself out of the pool, allowing yourself to perch on the edge as you try your best to ignore the chuckles of those around you who have noticed your mishap.

“What the fuck happened?”

You look up and of course Melissa is there. Right there, lit up in the sun like an angel, red hair haloed around her head. It takes a moment to realise that her eyes are roving over you, and not just your face. You glance down where your cover up now clings to your skin, almost see through.

Looking up you see Melissa blink rapidly a few times before offering you a hand. You reach for her, smiling as she helps pull you to your feet. “Thanks,” you smile sheepishly. “I guess I should go change.”

“It’s a pool, you’re allowed to be a little wet,” the red head smirks back at you. “Besides, we’re this close to the bar now, be rude not to take advantage.”

Melissa appears at the bar next to you with a huff, grumbling under her breath. Her attention is focused on trying to get the attention of the barman. Mumbling though she is, she’s speaking just loud enough for you to make out what she was saying.

“He was an ass,” you tell her, watching as her head whipped around, finally realising you were there.

“What?” she asks with a frown, already tipsy.

“Your ex,” you enlighten her. You may not have heard the comment that led to her current dip in mood, or ever have met the man, but you know enough.

Her frown only deepens. “You don’t know a thing about him.”

“I know he didn’t appreciate what he had and left you,” you offer, ordering a drink when the barman appears in front of you, before turning back to Melissa to ask what she wants. You find her looking at you oddly, her expression unreadable. She quickly snaps out of it and barks and order at the bartender.

Barb has had more than a few drinks, it would appear as she flags you down to sit with her as you pass her table.

“Sit, sit,” she smiles, trying to reach for your arm and push the chair out next to her at the same time in an uncoordinated matter.

Catching her hands, you still her as you slide into the seat beside her to placate her. Her gaze is a little unfocused, her words edging towards slurred. You hadn’t quite realised how drunk she was, but then again, looking around the room, it would have been more of a surprise for her to be sober.

“Don’t call that woman,” she tells you, leaning into your space.

“What woman?” you frown.

“That woman who gave you her number,” says Barbara like it’s obvious.

You try not to think about the fact that for Barb to know, Melissa must have mentioned it. That it’s been on her mind enough to mention it to the older woman. “Why not?”

“She wouldn’t like it.”

“She gave me her number,” you point out. “I don’t think she would mind.”

Barb shakes her head. “Not her. Her,” she says, nodding across the room to where Melissa is standing.

You cross your arms across your chest. “What has Melissa got to do with anything?”

Barb raises a single eyebrow, the action still smooth and effective despite her drunkenness and it makes you blush.

Averting your gaze, you shake your head. “It doesn’t matter what I feel,” you sigh. “She’s not…She thinks I’m some stupid kid.”

What you don’t see, is Melissa standing close enough behind your chair to catch your words.

Somewhere after speaking to Barb you decide that trying to be the sober parent of your little Abbott family just isn’t working. You’ve lost track of most of them, and honestly, you’ve given up trying to find them. They’re all adults and can fend for themselves.

You still have eyes on Barb and Melissa though, the former dancing up a storm and the latter apparently winning an ill-advised drinking competition.

Not that you can judge, of course. You know you’ve drunk more than you should, feeling pleasantly buzzed from your seat in the corner of the bar. You should call it a night before you do something you’ll regret, like call the woman Barbara told you not to. Sober, you wouldn’t. Drunk, you’re flattered enough and wouldn’t say no to the company.

With a sigh, you push yourself up out of your seat and head towards the elevators. Pushing the button, you watch the numbers light up as the lift descends. You squeak in surprise when a strong pair of hands land on your hips, turning you around as a plump pair of lips meet you own.

“I don’t think you’re some stupid kid.”

You blink slowly a few times, taking in the woman before you. Melissa. Melissa Schemmenti just kissed you. You shouldn’t, but you don’t have it in you to deny yourself the pleasure of feeling her lips against yours once more. You kiss her back with enthusiasm, not protesting when she backs you into the elevator as it opens and moaning as your back hits the wall of the small metallic box, the weight of Melissa pressed against you.

You’ve always admired her curves. Pressed against you they’re a dream.

The clearing of a throat far to close snaps you out of your living dream and you feel Melissa take a step back, biting her lip as she guiltily throws a glance over her shoulder, registering Barb standing in the elevator, her back to you both as if she hasn’t just witnessed exactly what you were both doing.

Standing close, you grin at the devious smirk being aimed your way by a certain red head. There’s a dangerous glimmer of mischief in her eyes. Smudged lipstick and mussed hair from where you hands couldn’t help but run thought it complete the look. The woman is a work of art.

You look up as the elevator doors chime open, realising this is your floor. Stepping forward, you slip past Barb, who merely raises an eyebrow. You throw a look back at Melissa, who sways forward as though to follow you, before hesitating.

The doors slide shut, and honestly, it’s probably for the best.

You miss the dark chuckle Barb lets out as the lift begins to ascend once more.

“What you laughing at?” asks Melissa, scowling. She’s annoyed with herself for hesitating. She knows what she wants, and she just let it walk out of the elevator.

“You two think you’re subtle?” the older woman drawls. “She has more of your lipstick on than you do.”

If PECSA was party central the night before, it was hangover central the morning after. You’re sitting outside on the low wall, sunglasses firmly in place, your phone in one hand and a bottle of water in the other as you take in the cool morning air.

“You regret what happened last night?”

You turn to see Melissa, similarly attired. “What?”

She comes to stand beside the wall on which you’re sat, her gaze wandering anywhere but you as she speaks. “I came to your room last night. You didn’t answer.”

“I didn’t hear you,” you admit, watching as her head whips around. “Too busy throwing up everything I ever drank.” You feel the blush dusting your cheeks, but continue. This feels too important to let a little embarrassment stop you. You take off your sunglasses so she can see your face as you speak, “I have many regrets about my choices last night, but what happened in the elevator isn’t one of them.”

A slow smile spreads across her lips as she shifts to take a seat next to you. She slips her own sunglasses off, finally letting you see her eyes. “Good to know,” she murmurs. “Me neither.”

You can’t help but smile at that. You notice her gaze wandering and realise she staring at the phone still clutched in your hand.

“You planning on using that number you were so interested in yesterday?”

“Honestly?” you ask, seeing the uncertainty in her face as she nods regardless. “That woman was hot, and while I was more than a little flattered she gave me her number…she isn’t a patch on you.”

Pale cheeks blush adorably pink at your words. Melissa isn’t used to hearing things like what from you.

“Don’t look so surprised,” you scoff, nudging her shoulder. “You’ve seen yourself in a mirror, right? And you needn’t think I go falling in pools over every pretty woman I see.”

“I really distracted you that badly, huh?” she asks, a little of her confidence returning.

You bump her shoulder with yours once more. “Shut up.”

A gentle hand moves to cup your cheek, turning you to face her as Melissa presses a gentle kiss to your lips. “For the record,” she says quietly. “I don’t think you’re some stupid little kid. I think you’re beautiful.”

You take in a shuddering breath. It all feels too good to be true. “What happens at PECSA stays at PECSA?” you ask sadly.

“I’ve never been one for playing by the rules,” she smirks back at you, pressing another quick kiss to your lips before pushing herself to her feet and offering a hand to you. “Come on, we gotta go find Barb. Reunite her with her shoes, sobriety and sanity.”

You take the hand being offered like a lifeline, grinning as Melissa starts walking, swinging your joined hands between you. It’s only as you pass through the front doors to the building that her words even register. “Wait? Her shoes?”

#melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti #melissa x reader #abbott elementary

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peppermintquartz · 2 months ago

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A potentially (even more) angsty prompt:

A couple month after the breakup (and Buck moping around), the 118 is called to a crashed Harbor helicopter.

Or alternatively, Buck is not on shift and Chim calls Buck that Tommy is in the hospital via a helicopter crash (the rest of the 118 rescued him). A la Chim's Henren matchmaking.

Whatever level of injury you wish for either is good!

(for the purposes of this ficlet, their breakup is NOT the 8x06 version, just one where Tommy is like "we're moving too fast, I need some time" and they agree to give it a pause, and it still sucks but they're not exes)

---

"So... Have you two patched up yet?" Eddie broaches the subject cautiously. It's a fifty-fifty chance that Buck will be willing to share or snap his head off.

"I asked him out for a drink," Buck says, eyes on his book (Slow Productivity, which seems kinda strange for a guy working as a firefighter). "He said he'll take a raincheck." He sounds emotionless, which means he's sort of upset but not overly so.

Which makes sense, since Tommy and Buck did have a Not-A-Date brunch to catch up two weeks ago. Eddie was there, too, desperate wishing he had an excuse not to be, so that the two yearning idiots would just get back together.

Eddie's about to say more when the alarm goes and Bobby hustles everyone onto their engines. Curiously, Bobby sits in the back, telling Hen to take his usual seat.

"What do we got, Cap?" Chimney asks, snapping his gum. It's a new habit - the man is stressed about a second child. The sirens scream to life and they're off.

Bobby puts a hand on Buck's shoulder. "Airlift gone wrong. A chopper went down while delivering a heart to First Presbyterian."

Eddie sees the younger man go still. Buck won't ask, so Eddie bites the bullet. "It's Tommy?"

Before he answers, Bobby tightens his grip on Buck. "It's Tommy."

The good news is that the chopper hadn't gained much altitude when it crashed. The better news is that its cargo, a heart ready for transplant, is still intact, so it's quickly rushed off to the hospital in an ambulance.

The bad news is, it was Tommy piloting.

The worst news is, he needs blood. A lot of blood. Hen and Chimney are packing the wounds and stabilizing what they can and Bobby is calling Dispatch to relay messages for a transfusion.

"Blood type, B-pos, no known allergies," Buck rattles off to Bobby and Hen, helping to lift Tommy, collared and strapped on a backboard, onto the gurney. His jaw is tight and his hands are steady. "His emergency contact is..."

He falters as Tommy is wheeled into the ambulance.

Eddie shoves him. "Get in there." When Buck turns to look at him, eyes wide, Eddie pushes him again. "Get in there. You're his emergency contact as far as we know, so go. Tommy won't survive your delay."

That spurs Buck into moving with alacrity. The ambulance pulls out, sirens screaming, and Eddie feels his heart pounding in his mouth.

Then he feels Bobby standing beside him. "They haven't patched up?"

"They're idiots," Eddie says with heartfelt vehemence.

Bobby sighs.

Eddie goes to the hospital three hours later, after the shift. Buck is still in his uniform, so Eddie passes him his duffel and shoos him off to change.

"What news?" Eddie asks when Buck joins him again.

"They've stopped the bleeding," Buck says, closing his eyes. "Now they need to work on the impalement."

Eddie sits next to his best friend. He doesn't speak.

"I'm done," Buck says suddenly, sounding like he's gargled gravel. "I'm done. When he wakes up, I'm gonna... I don't know what I'm gonna do, but I am not doing this stupid 'pause button' shit any longer."

Oh thank God. Eddie can stop feeling like he's a child caught between divorced parents.

Then, because he is and always has been a realist, he asks, "What if he doesn't wanna press the play button?"

Buck looks a little sick. He clenches his jaw and shakes his head. "Then we want different things out of this. And I'd rather it hurt all at once now than later." His eyes look shockingly blue against the paleness of his face.

Eddie pats his friend's knee, and leans back to grab some shut-eye.

Eddie takes on the bulk of Buck-sitting duties for the next four days, spelled by Bobby. (Buck takes time off. No one begrudges it.) Maddie manages to get Buck to go home to shower but she can't make him sleep in his own bed.

Convenient that Tommy crashed just before our off days, Eddie thinks, a little bitchily, the day he comes back after a shift.

Man broke Buck's heart. Eddie figures he's due a little bitchiness.

It takes five false alarms before Tommy is truly awake and alert enough to register Buck and Eddie are there.

The heart rate monitor beeps a little more urgently.

"I'm here, honey," Buck murmurs, taking Tommy's hand immediately and squeezing it. "Relax, okay? Docs and nurses gonna look at you for a bit first."

Tommy blinks, and on his horribly pale and scruffy face is a ghost of a relieved smile. He can't talk, but his mouth forms something that sounds suspiciously like "eh en", or "Evan", and Buck smiles so brightly that he probably powered the machines with its intensity.

Eddie feels the ground under his feet right itself as the doctor and nurses take over. Yeah, that pause button is going away. He sends a message to the group chat.

Hen replies, Bets on when they move in together. $5 min.

#tommy kinard #evan buckley #bucktommy #tevan #eddie diaz #eddie pov #118 fam #pq writes

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kaeyacollection · 11 months ago

Text

Who's ready for my Master Gaslight Gatekeep Girlboss Crepus Theory!!

I originally posted this over at Hoyolab and people there seemed to really like my favorite joke theory that Crepus just tries to gaslight the whole of Mondstadt right after obtaining Kaeya

Majority of this will be the same but with little tweaks for the wonderful tumblr audience

This joke stems from Kaeya's introduction:

and the use of the word "rumored"

Cause it's not like it said beyond Teyvat or the seven nations just Mondstadt

And I mean like c'mon how many families are living off the grid in Mondstadt

(Actually... Don't answer that I forgot Glory's boyfriend is just

Out there in the bush with Razor...)

Initially I had the idea of Crepus walking around the markets one day carrying Kaeya with Diluc beside him running into Varka who asks:

"Who's the boy?"

"You mean my son?"

"Not Diluc the boy you're carrying"

"I have two sons? You know this??"

But then the Caribert quest came out mentioning Kaeya ran away from home near immediately and was dragged home by Crepus just as fast and it became even funnier

Cause imagine you're by the docks one day and richest man in town gets off the boat with no cargo but instead a tiny child you may not have seen before that Crepus seems to be very cross with at the moment and threatening to turn him into a leash kid if he runs off again

In a small town that loves gossip do you know how fast that information is spreading? Cause I do and Varka's knocking on Crepus's door 30 minutes later like:

"Is this what we're doing? We're just taking kids now?"

Both paths lead to Varka asking where Kaeya comes from and getting hit with a

"I think you're a bit too old to still be confused about the birds and the bees Varka"

Varka getting frustrated to the point he just starts demanding Kaeya tell him what's up

Love to see him following in his fathers footsteps of stressing Varka the fuck out

And upon hearing how his birth father left for juice and didn't return Varka went

"Good! That was ALL I needed to know!!"

Follow ups on if his father intended to abandon him or got lost in the storm and needed a search party?

Don't care!! You weren't kidnapped!!

Welcome to the knights! 🤝

Which bringing it back to it only being a rumor

In a town of alcoholics, who's gonna call out the one guy with the winery?

Here's some add ons that got sparked from the comment section 😘

Bonus panels would have included Varka showing up with Rosaria one day mimicking Crepus about "wHaT you ForGot I haD a Kid" sparking a trend within the community of just adopting random children to the point posters are made saying "In Barbatos name: See a child Take a child"

Alice seeing it and pulling a "when in rome" tucking both Albedo and Diluc(who is yelling he is an adult) under her arms and telling Klee if she ever sees someone in need of a mom let her know she'll send over the paperwork right away

And then the last bonus: Venti wakes up, walks in through the gate while playing a tune, and stops when he sees the poster, not sure if he needs to start yet another revolution, or if this one is fine actually

I imagine the posters had to be taken down because visitors were losing their kids left and right and the solution of parents pinning a note saying "not dead & still want custody" to their kids shirt didn't catch on but the saying still lives strong in the hearts of Mondstadt's citizens I mean look Bennett and his 27 dads Mondstadt may have a lot of orphans but the demand is even higher

Comment on original post:

"I have a headcanon where Kaeya fooled first Crepus, then the rest of Mondstadt but.this is too funny!! I want to see this happening!"

Which prompted one of my new favorite lines at the end:

"Wait by fool Crepus first do you mean like Crepus finding him out in the storm bringing him inside to ask him where he lives and Kaeya's just

"? I live here? You adopted me? Are you feeling okay?"

Cause I'm absolutely cry laughing over this that's so good but that also means when Kaeya runs away Crepus is just

"hey no no l'm not misplacing you a second time come home" "

#Kaeya may have wandered away from his last family (believes Crepus) but that sure as fuck wasn't gonna happen a second time #Kaeya #kaeya alberich #crepus ragnvindr #Crepus #dawn family #genshin impact #Genshin #thats right now I get to be the one with the many tags trying to get this out there lmao #dont worry I wont do this often here this blog is primarily a trap to get you guys to check out a very talented lore blog #uh I mean...#to show you various fan works of Kaeya?#hey what's that pinned post up there?#god I hope this is formatted right I havent made a tumblr post since we had post headers #and god damn did it keep fighting me #also it's like 5 a.m. if you see any mistakes...#that's tomorrow's problem

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tangerinelovez · 5 months ago

Text

mtl: txt asking for your meal to be remade when made incorrectly at a restaurant

pairing: txt x female-implied reader with dietary restrictions (they've been dating for six months) tw; food allergies, veganism, confrontation, uncomfortable social experience, social anxiety........ also I didn't proofread this so that's a warning itself word count: 2394 disclaimer: This is all fictional and just for entertainment purposes. This is not based on any fact and is just my own interpretations of how I think the members would act if their girlfriend's order was wrong at a restaurant and they had some kind of dietary restriction. note: I did make my decisions based on a combination of factors. I think some members would be very sympathetic about your order being wrong, but may be uncomfortable expressing your concerns to the waiter, leaving you to be the one to voice your dissatisfaction with your meal. On the other hand, some members may be more willing to speak up on your behalf, but may not fully offer the emotional support you may be looking for in this situation.

MOST

Yeonjun -> you can always count on him to speak up for you when your meal isn't right... but you will have to explain to him what's wrong with it

you have been a vegan by choice for a few years, and by this point, you had gotten pretty used to great service and creative food options when going out. Not to mention, you had been pleased to find that being vegan hadn’t deterred nearly as many guys from dating you as everyone had made it sound.

to make a long story short, it had been a while since you’d been faced with a vegan’s worst nightmare: an inedible pool of steaming hot vegan cheese falling off the edge of your pizza slice in rivulets while on a rare night out with your boyfriend. on the bright side, he would be quick to fix the issue, hating to see you so sad and disappointed with your meal while he's enjoying his own so much. he'd drop his own slice of pizza, and his brows would furrow as you explain why your vegan pizza was not made correctly, and he'd nod attentively, eyes wide as he listens. he'd reassure you that he'd handle it for you and then flag down the waiter, politely explaining why your pizza isn't correct as it appeared to be drowning in a river of non-dairy cheese instead of the typical sprinkle you'd come to expect when eating at this restaurant. when the second pizza comes out, he'd study it and your face closely, and lean in and assertively ask if he needs to go talk to the kitchen himself, or if it looks right for you this time. part of you wonders how he can't seem to fully recognize this pizza looks entirely different than the first one that had been swimming in rivulets of cheese, but he's so cute and concerned, you hold down your urge to point out just how different the two pizzas look from each other.

when you smile and reassure him the dough looks cooked thoroughly and there's an appropriate amount of vegan cheese and the correct toppings, he'd let out a big sigh of relief and pick up his own forgotten slice, saying he doesn't mind eating his pizza cold as long as it means he can share a nice meal with you and shooting you a wink as he takes a bite. a bizarre expression crosses his face suddenly, prompting you to ask what is it before he says we're getting ice cream after this right? and you nod, loving how his mind is always on food, even when eating.

let me look up the best vegan ice cream around here then... he says, pulling out his samsung as he wipes his face.

you're always eating some fruit pop at the place we normally go to, and I know you say you like it... but you deserve ice cream tonight. you laugh, finding it amusing how he seems to be more impacted by all of this than you are, but smile as you eat your well-crafted pizza, feeling lucky to have found a man who is eager to keep you fed and happy. Taehyun -> your attentive and observant boyfriend will always do what it takes to make you happy, even if he doesn't fully get the "vegan" thing as soon as your order hit the table, terry noticed that your face didn't light up as it normally does when the two of you go out for tacos. why the long face baby? he'd say, leaning in over the booth. you'd hesitate, feeling a little apprehensive about bringing up your concerns. You don't really like inconveniencing others over your dietary restrictions, and try to not make a big deal of them.

as you tell terry your order is wrong and why, he nods in understanding, but hesitates before saying baby... can't you just eat it this one time? I just don't get why you wont have the real thing sometimes... it's much healthier than that fake meat...

you sigh, shaking your head slightly, a slightly amused smile on your face. your gym bro boyfriend still maintained a slight skepticism towards your diet even after all these months of dating. you know i'm vegan for reasons other than just health reasons, terry.

he nods and reaches for your hand across the table, an earnest look in his eyes. you know I don't mind that you're vegan, (y/n). let me ask them for your fake meat and fake cheese tacos.

he raises his free hand to signal the waiter back over, and calmly explains that you need the tacos remade without dairy and with the vegan meat crumbles. he smiles widely as the waiter apologizes and offers to discount your bill, apologizing profusely for the mistake.

when the remade tacos arrive, terry inspects them heavily, even offering to take a bite to ensure it's not real meat and cheese on these, as well. you can feel yourself fall in love even more when his eyes widen in amazement after he takes a bite and says, it's definitely vegan, but wow, it's good... maybe next time you can convince him to share some vegan appetizers and entrees. Beomgyu -> he teases. a lot. but at the end of the day, he would do anything for you if you really needed him to yeah I mean they definitely have a couple options for you here, right? your boyfriend of six months had asked on the way to the ramen restaurant he had recently taken a liking to. you had bitten your lip, unsure if your dietary restrictions would really be accommodated here. due to some health reasons, you were unable to eat gluten or dairy. taking into account your other allergies, it could often make eating somewhere feel impossible. now that the steaming bowl was in front of you, it was clear that your concerns had been valid. you watch beomgyu carefully eat some of his own ramen for a few seconds before sighing softly, prompting him to look up from his bowl and to your blank expression and untouched food. Is something wrong with yours? he asks after swallowing his soup. you nod, feeling a bit embarrassed. it had been a really long day, and you had just wanted to eat something that sounded good without worrying about all of your restrictions and allergies, but now that it was in front of you, and you could see just how much gluten, soy, and sesame was in the ramen, you knew you could not eat it.

he quirks his brow. ah, is today a day you spontaneously care about your diet again?

you feel heat rush into your face, knowing he's just kidding, but feeling embarrassed and not wanting to be an inconvenience all the same. hey, i didn't realize they'd put so many huge chunks of tofu in here... It didn't list tofu as an ingredient in here... and there's so much soy sauce already in the broth... not to mention, sesame seeds randomly in here...

you move your spoon around sadly, not feeling like making a scene at the small family-owned ramen restaurant. I'm pretty sure my noodles aren't gluten-free either... you sigh. I can't eat this, gyu. he looks up from his meal to look at you and your bowl again. ok... he says, looking over to the kitchen before looking at you again. do you want a new one or something?

you look down with a slight shrug.

he looks at you blankly for a few seconds as he stirs his ramen before saying ...do you want me to tell them you need a new one?

you sheepishly nod and he scoffs. alright, i'll tell them my girlfriend decided to take her allergies seriously today, and to please take that into account when remaking the bowl.

he raises a hand and furiously waves it around to get your waiter's attention.

anything for you, you big old karen. i'll make sure you get the best gluten-free, soy-free, everything-good-free ramen they have here. and maybe even get us a discount! he loves to be dramatic... but at the end of the day, he will always step up when it really matters to you.

Soobin -> he loves making you vegan food at home, but can get a bit embarrassed in restaurants soobin loved to cook for you at home or take you to familiar restaurants, but sometimes, for special occasions, he would try to take you somewhere new and exciting that seemed to be getting good reviews as a date night spot online. normally, he would double and triple check to ensure there were vegan options, or at the very least, vegetarian options that could be made vegan, but he had told you tonight's restaurant was a bit of a gamble... and the overly cheesy burger in front of you seemed to be indicating a loss. are you sure you can't just... eat around it? soobin's wide eyes stare into yours as he makes the suggestion.

I mean, it's baked in... you take the bun off of your burger to show your boyfriend how the veggie burger appears to have real cheese and breadcrumbs baked into the patty.

both food items you could not have as a vegan. I mean... the waiter wrote down no cheese or breadcrumbs on this veggie burger. i'm sure it's just vegan cheese... he says, looking down at his own burger with a quick glance before looking back up at you.

just eat your burger, soobin. you say with a smile, not wanting him to go hungry just because you can't eat your meal. he shakes his head quickly, taking a sip of his cola. no, no... it doesn't feel right for you to just sit and watch me eat... you smile as you see his ears start to get a bit red. you look at him reassuringly with a smile. soob, come on. it's fine. i'll just ask them for a new one. you move to raise your hand, getting ready to deal with the awkward confrontation with the waiter before soobin puts his hand on top of yours.

no... we're out tonight to celebrate six months of you being my girlfriend. I... I can ask them to remake this burger but without the cheese or breadcrumbs like they said they could do for you. besides... I know how stressed you've been with your semester starting.

your heart skips a beat as soobin takes a deep breath and raises his hand, a tight-lipped smile on his face as he looks around the restaurant for your waiter. you really didn't mind speaking up for yourself, it was part of being a vegan, but it really warmed your heart to see soobin doing something for you even though it made him uncomfortable.

and when he quietly and politely explained the error to the waiter, you couldn't help but be endeared by his good manners and appreciation not only for you, but for service workers.

the waiter apologized profusely for bringing a vegetarian burger instead of vegan burger to the table, heavily discounted your meal, and even offered a complimentary dessert. to which soobin inquired, are any of your desserts dairy-free?

when the answer was no, he smiled cheekily and said the two of you were fine on desserts then, which confused you until a few hours later, when you entered his apartment and noticed a table full of intricately-decorated cookies, that he assures you are vegan.

your mouth can't help but fall open in shock over the pile of handmade cookies to which soobin cheekily says, why are you so surprised? his sudden confidence charming you even more. Kai -> he feels terribly that you can't eat your meal... but the best he can do is offer emotional support and advice when your pita comes out to the table in a tray with checkered paper, it is just filled to the brim with olives. though you're not one of those people who is super picky, you have to admit you've always had a massive aversion to olives.

though you'd normally just opt to pick the olives out of the pita, there are so many throughout it, in addition to pepperoncini and copious amounts of greek dressing... in all honesty, the whole pita just has to go. it's so soggy and poorly wrapped, you really don't know how you'd even manage to eat it. you look across the table to your boyfriend, shocked to find he is nearly done with his own pita. you watch him eat for a few seconds, amused by how absorbed he is in the flavors of the pita, before he finally fishes his and almost seems to come back to earth, looking at you with a stunned expression. (y/n), is something wrong? does your stomach hurt? you shake your head, feeling a little embarrassed over the fact you can't just suck it up and eat the soggy and overloaded-with-olives pita.

oh... it's just... this is really soggy. i'm not even sure I could pick it up without it falling apart. and it's filled with olives. he sucks his teeth, soft eyes looking at you with concern. oh no! maybe you can just use a fork and knife? you furrow your brows, knowing the flaws with the pita go beyond its structural weakness. It's also just full of olives and pepperoncini... I can't really eat this... kai looks around awkwardly, pulling on the strings of his hoodie before suddenly his face lights up and he eagerly offers a solution.

how about you order something else, and i'll just eat this one?

your eyes widen at his suggestion, and you can't help but laugh. but... you don't really like olives either? and it's so messy?

he shakes his head, already pulling your soggy pita towards himself. I don't mind eating it... and just ask the waiter for the menu again and order something else... I don't want to ask them to remake anything...

you laugh as you watch him pick up a fork and knife to eat the offending pita, and catch eyes with the waiter from across the restaurant to signal him to come back to the table. at least nights out with kai always have you laughing.

LEAST

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yaekiss · 5 months ago

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okay. the will wood song as vampire childe. a reverse of that oh so beloved fic based off a lil ask of mine.

the way he loves your pure, unadulterated humanity as you breathe down his neck when you’re on top of him. you’d have him squeeze his scarred thighs together if they weren’t pinned open from your pounding into his pretty and greedy hole.

he begs for your attention either way. his bratty words as he tries to set you off, wanting to drain you of your blood to have you even a part of his body. he begs and begs, taking in every careful breath of yours between his own moans of pure bliss and his sucking of your blood. the way he looks on with dazed eyes as your own roll back when you tell him to detach… but no　♡︎　he’s not doing that.

vampire childe who is just your silly little parasite! despite his expensive tastes, he likes it when you drag him to some seedy club’s bathroom and take him in the stall where anyone can hear him. his tab’s forgotten as he makes up for pissing you off from letting others ogle at him, such lecherous monsters he’s much better than, at least, that’s what he says as he’s holding onto the dirty mirror, seeing the possessiveness in your gaze as you surely leave bruises on his hips and ass.

IHDSWJHD I can't believe I wrote so much for Bloodied Fangs... something about exploring the different dynamics of vamps I guess idk what came over me. I think your asks just do something to the writing part of my brain. Hmm. Rambling under the cut again, I think I'm losing it

On a side note, if anyone reading this would like a full fic based on a prompt/request you might have, do check out my ongoing event!!

ANYWAYS! sorry I have worldbuilding(?) brainworms I have to get out first b4 everything else as usual sigh. I think a vamp!Childe is bloodthirsty in ever sense of the word. If we're going by the more popular vampire tropes, he might enjoy the boost to his abilities (i.e. heightened senses, supernatural strength) although I am curious to see how it would affect the use of his delusion and his Foul Legacy state.

Would additional vampiric features manifest themselves in the Foul Legacy state? Sharpened fangs, torn and roughed up bat-like wings?? Would mixing the powers from the delusion and vampirism produce any backlash? If the delusion draws from the user's life force, what would happen to a vampire who's immortal? One can only speculate.

Perhaps it's the genuine concern combined with natural curiosity in your expression when you pose these questions to him that continues to draw him closer and closer to you. How sweet of you to worry over him, he swears he can almost feel his now non-functioning heart skip a beat when your warm hand cups his face. He drinks in your warmth, constantly clinging to your side like some leech.

Which is why he loves it when he managed to rile you up, the contrast you show him is addicting. He knows what he's doing when he licks at the salt rim of his glass, shooting you a coy look as he consciously ignores the way the other patrons of the club are eyeing him. He knows he's won when you're dragging him off to the bathroom, a possessive glint in your eyes. Meanwhile, Childe is beaming when some customers whistle at the spectacle.

You sure that those outside can definitely hear his moans over the trashy upbeat music the club is blasting on the speakers but the man before you doesn't seem to care at all. His fangs sinking into your skin, the familiar taste of your blood settling on his tongue. The flavour is intoxicating, heady, rich. Infinitely better than whatever that drink he ordered just now was, how could it even compare?

He feels you yanking at his hair, trying to drag him off you and saying something along the lines of, "C'mon detach already, haven't you had enough?" The answer could not be more clear to him, how could such a small taste of you ever be enough?

If he drains you of everything, doesn't that mean your entirety will be a part of him for all eternity?

Bonus!! can't really figure out how to link it to everything I wrote above but I think he'd really like it if he could drink your blood while you're fucking him. Something about lapping away at your neck/wherever he chose to bite, acutely aware of your heartrate speeding up when he clenches down on you, your blood laced with the sharp sweet taste of bliss and arousal. He could simply drown in it all.

Thanks for reading! Consider supporting me on kofi if you enjoyed this or check out my other works hehe ♡

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soulessjourney · 1 year ago

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One Last Time

Paring: Astarion x fem!DurgTavReader

Word count: 5.5k

Summary: Just what truly happened during the battle with Ketheric Thorm?

Warnings: Angst, Mentions of violence, OOC Astarion, injuries, talk of mental health, some fluff, Tav is on her journey of having a redeption arc, Confessions, some fluff, Heavy Act 2 Spoilers

A/N: Buckle up kiddies this is gonna be a long one. I did add a bit of my own spin on things in some parts just to help fill in the aspects of the fighting to make it more dramatic.

Ketheric Thorm, a man who defied death and wasn't meant to survive. He bore the responsibility for unleashing the Shadow Curse and cowardly sought refuge in Moonrise Towers, at least that's how you perceived it. Meeting him as a true soul set the stage for your downfall. Upon your arrival, your Guardian, with a hint of disgust in her voice, made you acutely aware of his identity. Being in proximity to the absolute felt like a dream, yet an unsettling feeling lingered. You sensed manipulation, as if you were a mere pawn in his game. Moonrise, though familiar, seemed to beckon you, and the guards appeared well-informed about your identity. Anger and fury welled up within you, resentful of the power he wielded. A part of you contended that this power was rightfully yours, and an irresistible urge to claim it consumed you.

As your eyes follow Thorm out of the room, Astarion clears his throat beside you. "Well, that was eventful. Say, how are we supposed to kill someone who can't be killed? Seems like a setup if you ask me." He shrugs, prompting a scoff from Shadowheart.

"You know, Astarion, I would like to go one day without your comments," she grumbles, eliciting a pout from Astarion and a breathless laugh from you. After about a month or two of being together, your group had grown close, opening up in various ways. Despite only being together for a short time, they appointed you the leader, leading to disagreements, especially with more qualified individuals like Gale.

The banter between Astarion and Shadowheart continues as you walk out of the tower. "I'm just saying, Darling, there's no way in the nine hells we can kill someone who simply cannot be killed. That's like asking a rock to walk," he shrugs, shooting a smug smile toward Shadowheart.

Just as she opens her mouth to respond, you cut them off. "That's enough, you two. The entire Shadow Land can hear your bickering," you grumble as Lae’zel nods in agreement. "Besides, we're almost to the Mausoleum, and it's rude to disturb the dead," you say, suppressing a smile at the pure annoyance on Shadowheart's face. It's rare for Astarion to get the last word, and when he does, he becomes the cockiest man alive.

Falling behind your group, Gale nudges you and raises a questioning brow. It's unusual for you to lag behind, considering your usual determination to lead and be the first to jump into action to protect your party. "What's going on in that head of yours?" he asks, keeping his voice low so as not to draw attention.

Shrugging, you fiddle with your armor before letting out a sigh. "I just don't have the best feeling. It's like something is about to happen, and we won't be able to avoid it. I'm worried that whatever we're about to face, there's no coming back from it." Odd feelings weren't unfamiliar to you; after all, you constantly battled the urge to commit daily murders. However, today's unease had you more concerned than usual.

Gale nods, letting out a thoughtful hum as he considers his response. "It's not because I plan on blowing myself up, is it?" he asks, a laugh escaping his lips. His expression turns serious when he notices your lack of laughter. "Tav, everything will be okay. We have each other, and we're all equally dedicated to ensuring our survival. Nothing will happen, and I especially know that Astarion won't let anything happen to you," he says, giving you a knowing look.

You and Astarion shared something, although you weren't sure what it was beyond the occasional intimacy. Both of you were highly protective of each other, yet he dismissed it as shameless flirting. You desired something more with Astarion, but you knew he was apprehensive. He was new to the affection you showed him and unfamiliar with being cared for in a way he had never experienced before.

Just as you were about to respond, a figure emerges from the shadows just before you reach the Mausoleum. Astarion groans at the sight of Raphael gliding towards your group, his usual mischievous smile spread widely across his lips. "Well, well, isn't it my favorite group of adventurers?" he says, stopping just before your group. You step forward, noting how Astarion positions himself behind you, rolling his shoulders forward almost as if to appear larger—a simple act of protection that's hard to resist smiling at. "I know it's odd for a Devil to ask for a favor, but there's something I'll grant you in return," Raphael says, locking his eyes on yours.

Astarion scoffs and crosses his arms. "Just spit it out already; we don't have time for your riddles," he deadpans, shifting closer to you, ready to throw you behind him if Raphael makes a move to harm you.

"Now, now, this isn't the time to lack patience," Raphael says, standing taller. "I need you to take care of a problem, a competition, we can call it. In return, I'll give your little vampire friend answers about the scars on his back—a translation that I know you both are just dying to know." He grins, watching your eyes widen before turning to look back at Astarion. "His name is Yurgir, and dealing with him will do a lot of good. He's breaking his contract and needs to be sent right back to where he came from as a...lesson." He says, looking over your group. "Once you find him, take care of him. I will know, and it will determine if you get the answers you so desperately seek." Just as he finishes his sentence, he disappears right in front of you.

Exhaustion seeps through you as your group stays quiet. "I guess we have some work to do," you mumble, walking forward into the Mausoleum. The others hesitate as they watch you, concerned about your sudden lack of energy. Usually, you would be up for anything, even if it meant dealing with a devil. As you walk into the building, the group exchanges worried glances before following you inside.

---

The confrontation with Yurgir turned out to be surprisingly easy, given his already paranoid state. With his contract entwined in a song, convincing him to turn against his allies, including Nessa, a displacer beast you empathized with, proved to be a straightforward task. In your mind, she didn't deserve to meet her end in the manner she did. Subsequently, you seamlessly entered his paranoid thoughts, persuading him to take his own life. Lae’zel and Astarion, usually at odds, expressed their shared disappointment at the lack of an actual fight to entertain them.

Amidst the discontent, your primary concern shifted to the current state of your group. Shadowheart, driven by determination, sought to complete Shar’s Gauntlet, a symbolic act to ascend and prove her loyalty to her goddess. While you couldn't help but worry about your friend, you understood her desire to seize this opportunity. As she faced the three challenges, ultimately finding the Spear of Night, you sensed a subtle shift in her demeanor.

Standing before the Nightsong, a woman bound to this realm with no apparent escape, you noticed a spark of questioning in Shadowheart's eyes, despite her determination. Confronting Thorm, you learned that releasing the Nightsong was the only way to weaken him and break his hold on immortality. The moment of decision arrived when Shadowheart, succumbing to her doubts, threw the spear over the edge, the mentioning of the forest and the wolves.

A surge of indescribable emotion coursed through you—perhaps pride or worry. It wasn't until Dame Aylin stepped forward, kneeling before Shadowheart, that the situation took a new turn. "Lay a hand of friendship upon me, and break my chains," she gently requested, her eyes meeting Shadowheart's before focusing on you. "Only when I am free can I aid you in taking down Ketheric Thorm." Shadowheart hesitated, glancing back at you for guidance.

Slowly nodding, she reached forward, resting a hand on Dame Aylin, breaking her chains once and for all. A portal opened behind you, and just before you could turn away, your eyes locked on Dame Aylin. Her armor began to form on her skin, and wings emitting a heavenly glow spread out behind her. Despite the look of recognition, all you received was a nod before she took off, leaving your group alone.

---

Now that Dame Aylin was free, things seemed to have accelerated much faster than anticipated. Drained and utterly tired, all you desired was to rest. Your head buzzed, and your ears rang, yet there you stood before Moonrise Towers, gearing up to face Ketheric Thorm. The urgency escalated with Dame Aylin's freedom, and a dark part of you wished she hadn't been released just so you could have some time to recuperate.

As you looked up at the towers, your body tensed when someone moved to stand beside you. A sense of relief washed over you as you saw Astarion. Smiling down, he shifted on his feet. "We're going to win, Darling. You have all of us ready to fight at your side. Don't overthink it," he said, shaking his head to silence any protests. "I can practically hear the gears turning in that pretty little head of yours," he added with a teasing grin. "But before we go in, can we talk? It's rather important, just in case we do meet our doom in there," he said softly.

Giving a half-hearted smile, you felt the exhaustion seeping out of you. Astarion took your hand, leading you aside as the rest of the group looked at you in question before starting their own conversations, providing you and Astarion with some privacy. "Are you alright?" you asked, scanning him for any injuries he might have sustained.

His expression changed, as if he were at war with himself. "Oh yes, I'm fine. I just... feel awful about something," he admitted. Confusion crept over you as you tried to recall any recent events that might explain his unease. It wasn't until you saw him shift nervously that you gave him a reassuring smile.

He continued, revealing a plan to seduce you, manipulate your feelings, and use you to defeat Cazador. The revelation left a bitter taste of betrayal in your mouth. You shifted, your posture rigid, waiting for an explanation. The truth unfolded—his plan fell apart because he couldn't resist falling for you.

His confession left you grappling with feelings of betrayal and hurt. "Were you even attracted to me? Or was that all a lie as well?" you asked, unable to contain the pain in your voice. His flinch confirmed the discomfort he felt.

Astarion, now uncomfortable and terrified, admitted, "Of course I was attracted to you. Look at you, for goodness’ sake! You’re a vision and so much more than that." He hesitated, expressing uncertainty about his feelings. "I just… I don’t know what to think. I don’t know what I want."

You shared your care for him, admitting your deep feelings. His face lit up at your words, and a soft 'really?' hung in the air. Without thinking, you moved forward, wrapping your arms around him in a gentle but secure hug. It felt like a silent promise of your genuine care. As he reciprocated the embrace, you sensed a change in him.

Astarion, being himself, smiled and cleared his throat. "You... You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?" he remarked, his eyes locking with yours, revealing hidden emotions. He let out a nervous laugh, pulling your attention back to him. "Honestly, I have no idea what we’re doing or what comes next," he confessed, holding out his hand.

You stared at his hand before placing your palm on top of his. His cool skin covered yours as he drew you closer. "But I know that this? This is nice," he whispered.

There you stood, face flushed, realizing that, in a twisted way, Astarion truly loved you, and you loved him more than anything. Happiness mingled with worry, as he chose this moment to confess, fearing the possibility of not making it out alive. Yet, living in the now, you vowed to fight alongside him, grateful for the truth he finally shared.

Wyll cleared his throat, redirecting your attention to the group standing there, beaming at the two of you. It was evident they had overheard everything, and judging by the look on Shadowheart’s face, a secretly hopeless romantic, they had heard it all.

"Okay, you lovebirds, we have a Thorm on our side that we need to kill," Wyll declared, letting out a loud laugh at his own joke. However, the laughter died down when no one else joined in. An awkward silence hung in the air until you snorted, breaking the tension and sending the rest of your group into fits of laughter.

Even in the face of potential doom, moments like these made you grateful to have them by your side. Wyll looked around, crossing his arms and rolling his eyes. "Oh, I see how it is. It’s only funny when you put me down," he grumbled, prompting a genuine laugh from Lae’zel. The sound, rare and cherished, resonated among your group, appreciating the unexpected moment of joy.

---

The echoes of your laughter felt like a distant memory as you stood before Ketheric Thorm, anger seeping through you at the sight of him. The yells of your party echoed behind you as they fought against his soldiers, while he remained solely focused on you. Despite being mortal, he carried himself with immense confidence, as if convinced you could never truly defeat him. His smug demeanor fueled your desire to rip his head from his shoulders, yet something kept you rooted in the spot where you stood. Your attention shifted when something hot grazed your arm, prompting a pained yell as you gripped the wounded area. Thorm looked down at you with a smug smile, his eyes darkening.

"Who knew that you would come crawling to my doorstep? Why have you returned? Do you miss the throne in which you once sat?" he taunted, his words striking you like poison.

Although you had been here before, the realization that you used to occupy the throne he now warmed was a revelation. "I’m here to kill you," you declared, your hand warming with the blood seeping from your wounded arm. "I’m here to witness your downfall, and I’m going to enjoy every second of it," you spat, dropping your hand from your arm as you reached for the staff positioned on your back.

Thorm responded with an amused laugh, scanning the surroundings. "You? Kill me? I suppose you didn’t learn your lesson from the last time we had a falling out. Your father would be laughing at you now, seeing his perfect child turning her back on him," he seethed. Your eyes widened slightly before you shook your head. He was trying to toy with you, attempting to make you drop your guard, but you refused to let that happen.

You felt the fire spread through your palms before it traveled across the room toward Thorm. The lack of any reaction from him made you second-guess whether he was truly mortal now. Ascending the stairs, you stood face-to-face with Thorm, narrowing your eyes into a challenging glare. Swinging your weapon, the sound of steel clashing filled the air.

"You have the opportunity to surrender, Thorm. You don’t have to live like this," you declared, your voice stern as you pushed your weight into your weapon.

Thorm laughed and glared down at you. "You’ve become so weak. Your father has done nothing but brag about you, and yet here you are, offering me mercy. You are no daughter of his; no wonder you were cast out," he seethed, lifting his foot to kick you back. Tumbling, your weapon clashed against the ground beside you, and your eyes filled with fire. The urge to rip him apart from the inside out consumed you, and the taste of blood filled your mouth as your body became rigid.

The staff next to you vanished as a long sword with intricate designs slowly appeared in your hand. Standing slowly, you raised your eyes to meet his once more, and a smile settled onto his face. "There she is—the killer your father raised you to be," he said, rolling his shoulders back. A snarl escaped you as you raced forward, only to be thrown back as Dame Aylin slammed down into the area next to you and Thorm.

"Ketheric Thorm, your time is over. Here, you will fall by my hand," she declared as you stood up, your body shaking in rage. "My friend here has kept you busy enough; now it is my turn to aid her in this fight. You should’ve stayed dead," she snarled, leaping forward and landing a hit on Thorm, causing him to stumble back. Seizing the opportunity, you ran from beside her, slicing at him and making him groan in protest as your blade sank into his arm. The two of you fought in sync, one striking after another, knocking Thorm back with each blow.

Just when you thought things would finally be over, Thorm's soldiers stopped fighting, and the room grew quiet. Clutching your side to put pressure on the wound Thorm had given you moments prior, you spat the blood that filled your mouth onto the ground.

"You should’ve just let things rest. We wouldn’t have to go through all this fighting if you just let things remain the way they did," Thorm remarked, glancing toward the side of the roof. As if on cue, a large tentacle sprouted from the side of the building, knocking you off the platform. Landing on the ground a few feet away from Shadowheart, you struggled to suck in the air that was knocked out of your lungs. Helpless, you watched Dame Aylin try her best to fight the tentacle before being wrapped up and taken under the tower.

Shadowheart dropped to her knees beside you, holding a vial up to your lips. "Drink this; you’re in no shape to move," she said, her eyes scanning your body, taking in every wound. "Gods, Tav, you’re going to overwork yourself like this. We can take Thorm while you rest," she suggested gently, attempting to tend to your wounds. Pushing her hand away, you shook your head before sitting up, finally able to catch your breath.

"No, I need to take him down. I won’t leave you guys to fight alone," you grunted, wincing at just how sore your entire body was. Muffling the whimper that left your mouth, you stood before hobbling over towards the hole left in one of the pillars. The others walked up behind you, peering down from beside you. Looking at the others, you nodded before jumping down into the hole, listening as they followed behind you.

---

The path to find Thorm once again was long and grueling as you made your way through the mind-flayer colony. Along the way, you enlisted the help of a small brain that you had saved on the ship when you were first kidnapped. Now, you stood before the door separating you from Thorm. Upon your entrance, you noticed two other individuals with him—the same ones from your visions, but something about them seemed familiar. A chill ran through your bones when you heard her name: Orin. Hearing that name sent waves of anger through you, and you could even taste a small hint of betrayal as you looked at her. Something snapped you from your trance when you noticed Gale step forward. You had completely forgotten that he promised to carry out Mystra’s request, and the anger towards the goddess filled you once more.

“Whatever you are thinking of doing, Gale, it’s not worth it,” you said, meeting his gaze. He looked determined, and the sight broke your heart. “I won’t let you blow yourself up. We can find another way to please her or even save you, but ending your life like this isn’t worth it.” Part of you couldn't figure out why you were determined to save Gale, but the other knew that you needed him there. He was a friend and someone you knew how to talk to, seeking comfort when you weren’t sure how to open up to Astarion.

Astarion stepped up next to you and brushed your fingers with his before looking at Gale. “For once, I agree with our Darling leader here. We can’t afford to lose you just yet. You can blow yourself up another time, but that time isn’t now,” he said, meeting Gale’s eyes with determination.

Gale sighed and nodded as he looked at his two friends—one who was nothing but worried about him and the other begging him, in the most twisted way, to stay alive. “Alright, you’re right. Maybe this isn’t my time to go just yet. We have other opportunities for me to blow myself up. I’ll stay and fight beside you, and I promise to give it my all,” he said, smiling as your body relaxed, and relief filled your worn-down body.

As you stepped forward, Thorm met your gaze, his eyes hardening. "I see you all made it here alive—a shame, truly. I never wanted to hurt you, and I certainly never wanted to kill you. You all had so much to live for," he said, pity filling his voice. Your mind raced as you thought back to the letters you found in the tower. The letters from his wife and daughter gave you a chance at an attempt to convince him.

"Thorm, you don’t need to do this. You could be with Melodia again; you can be with the one you love without consequences," you said softly, stepping forward and wincing as you raised your arms to hold up your hands. "She’s waiting for you to come back to her, and you can finally use this as a chance to see her again." The battle in his eyes was evident. Looking towards Gale, you signaled him to go free Dame Aylin from the hold Thorm had on her. Gale nodded in silent agreement before disappearing from the spot next to you.

If Thorm did see Gale, he paid him no mind. "The goddess wouldn’t allow that to happen, not with what I have done," he said quietly, almost as if he was thinking it over. "Selûne would never allow me to be with her, not after the things that I have done." You couldn’t help but hear the pain in his voice as he spoke. He truly wanted to be with her, and you could see that internal war happening in his head.

"But you can. You can show Selûne that you’re willing to give this all up and give yourself to her. You can show her that you’re willing to sacrifice power just to be with the one person that you truly love." You didn’t know why your voice wobbled or why it felt like you would cry, but then it hit you. You would give everything to be with Astarion; you would sacrifice yourself to see him if he had been taken from you. You would destroy the world or give yourself to a goddess just to see him one last time.

Thorm looked at you for a moment before nodding, and nothing but relief filled you. You weren’t sure if your body could take another fight right at this moment. “You’re right,” he said, “I can be with her, but I apologize for what happens next. I can’t stop it.” You froze at his words. What did he mean by those words? Before you could continue to think, Thorm threw himself over the edge into the green abyss.

Astarion scoffed as he looked at the others. “So you’re telling me all we had to do was convince him that he could see his wife, and he would just end any and all fighting for us? Why didn’t we do that sooner?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest. Just as he spoke his words, a rumble vibrated around them. Astarion opened his mouth to say something when a large skeletal hand reached up and slammed itself down in front of you, causing you to stumble back to avoid being smashed.

Another rumble sounded, but this time it sounded more like a groan. “I am the haunt of mausoleums, the god of graves and age,” a loud booming voice grumbled as a large figure started to emerge where Thorm had thrown himself. “Of dust and dusk. I am Myrkul, and you have slain my Chosen.” Your eyes widened in recognition. The god of death. You were about to go head-to-head with a god, and part of you just wanted to drop then and there. With your injuries, you had no idea if you would survive this. “But it is no matter, for I am Death. And I am not the end–I am a beginning,” it finished.

Beside you, you heard a gasp from Astarion and the others. “What in the nine hells is that thing?” he asked as you began to back away. The large skeletal figure reached out his hand, and a large scythe flew into his grasp. Sweat began to collect at your brow as the stinging in your side grew. You could taste the bile starting to rise in your throat, and the loss of blood started to catch up with you.

You didn’t miss how Shadowheart looked at you; she knew you were in pain, but you were relieved that the others were oblivious. Biting back a groan, you stood taller, letting your eyes focus on the being before you. “That is a god,” you grumbled, listening to Astarion let out a string of colorful words. Before you had any time to react, Myrkul swung his weapon down towards you, the tip of it catching your leg, causing you to let out a pained yell.

You weren’t sure if it was your yell that set them off or the sudden attack, but as you caught your balance, spells and arrows began to fly through the air toward Myrkul. The moment Dame Aylin was free of her confines, she let out a roar as she aimed to take down the god in front of you. Your head was spinning, and you felt as if the world would go black, but you kept pushing, determined to help your friends. Missiles shot from you, landing their mark as Myrkul let out a screech, swinging his weapons towards everyone. The fight felt as if it went on for hours, years even, before the sight of Astarion and Karlach were thrown off the raised area in which you were standing.

The sight of the lack of movement from Astarion sent a blinding rage through you. A loud and violent scream tore through you as panic filled your very being. You swung your weapon, landing hit after hit on the God of Death. It wasn’t until there was a loud screech from the god that you realized that he had fallen. The sight of Thorm now lying a few feet away from you put you in another blind rage. Stomping towards him, he looked up at you helplessly, fear filling his eyes at the sight of you. He was terrified of dying by your hand, but you paid no mind to the thought. Letting out another scream, you sunk your dagger into him, only to pull it from him and repeat the motions over and over. “This is your fault,” you seethe over and over, the blood coating your face in the process. The feeling of hands on your shoulders and a large body dragging you away had you kicking and screaming as you thrashed in their grip. “No, I need to send him back to where he came from, he doesn’t deserve to see her.” You scream, your eyes focused on the body before you.

A hand cups the back of your head as you’re spun around in the individual’s arms where they press your face to their broad chest. “He’ll get what’s coming to him, but you need to breathe, calm down.” Halsin. His low voice works to calm you as he massages his fingers into the back of your head just above where the now loose knot of your hair sits. You begin to feel your body relax as every ounce of rage leaves you and sobs begin to rack your body. “It’ll be alright, go to him, see if he’s okay,” Halsin whispers, slowly letting you go. You back away and welcome his touch as he wipes his thumbs under your eyes, swiping away any tears you had. He looked at you like you were his daughter, and he worried just like any father would.

Nodding, your gaze falls on Astarion before you scramble over to him, falling to your knees. Grabbing his face in your hands, you caress his cold cheeks before shaking him. “Astarion, wake up,” you grumble, shaking him again. “Wake up, or I swear to the Nine Hells I’ll sell my soul to make Raphael bring you back just so I can kill you myself.” You whimpered, when there was no response you let your head fall to rest on his chest as you squeezed your eyes shut.

A hand moves and places itself on the back of your head before you feel his chest rattle with a cough. “Who knew you were such a romantic, Darling, threatening to take my life all over again.” Your body snaps up as he keeps his head on the back of your head before moving it to rest on your cheek, caressing the skin gently.

Smacking his chest, you let out a sniffle as your muscles and wounds scream in pain. “I thought you died,” you sob, looking away from him. His laugh sent a wave of relief through you as his hand took yours.

“I couldn’t leave you, not after threatening to have Raphael bring me back just so you can do the job yourself; that threat was more terrifying than the god we just faced.” He jokes, causing you to let out a breathless laugh as you lean into his touch. “I’m not going anywhere, my sweet, you’re stuck with me.” Nodding, you help him to his feet as you turn to the others.

“Let's get out of here; we deserve to celebrate, especially since we finally broke the shadow curse. A night of drinking and sleep sounds perfect right about now.” You say, watching as your group, no your family, smile and let out a loud yell of celebration with Dame Aylin as she leads the cheers. This was your family, and one you would fight thousands of gods for, even if it means losing yourself in the process.

A/N: She was a long one, but I do hope you guys enjoyed it. I will be turning this into a small series as we get to explore the events that have taken place throughout thier adventure.

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thisapplepielife · 6 months ago

Text

Written for @corrodedcoffinfest.

Let's Hear it For the Boy

Eddie tugs at the hem of his shirt, feeling more than a little uncomfortable.

"What's wrong?" Steve asks, showing up behind Eddie in the mirror.

"Well, for starters, it's mesh," Eddie says, "and I feel a little on display. I'm not exactly twenty-five anymore."

Steve runs his hands around Eddie's middle, hugging him from behind.

"You look damn good and you know it," Steve says, fingers pressing into the bare skin of his stomach under the mesh crop-top.

Eddie isn't so sure about that, but he appreciates the thought, anyway. He doesn't have time to argue, because the hotel room door bangs open, and Gareth is standing there.

"How hot do I look?" Gareth asks, and Steve laughs as he heads over to greet him.

"So hot," Steve says, and Gareth twirls around, like he's a six-year-old girl and not a forty-six-year-old man.

"Am I the first?" Gareth asks, and he is, nobody else has turned up yet and they are supposed to leave for the parade in ten minutes.

Corroded Coffin was asked to be grand marshals of this year's Pride parade, and they decided to go for it. The community embraced Eddie long ago, and it's about time he really did something to pay that kindness back.

Gareth is wearing the sparkliest eye makeup Eddie's ever seen, and Eddie lived through high school in the 80s. He could put Chrissy Cunningham to shame, Eddie thinks, and feels a pang in his chest.

Before he can dwell on it, the door swings open again, and Goodie's there, decked out in all leather, his hairy belly on full display.

"Well, don't you look beary sexy?" Eddie teases, grinning ear-to-ear as Goodie tips his leather muir cap.

"You can call me daddy if you want, big boy," Goodie says, and Eddie would really rather not. And, using Eddie's turn of phrase against him, is honestly dirty pool.

"I think I'll pass," Eddie laughs, but he's impressed Goodie's gotten into this as much as he very clearly has. "Where's Jeff?"

"There was a pants problem," Goodie says, and that's as much as he chooses to elaborate, before adding, "Robin's helping."

And Steve laughs, which makes Eddie smile. He's sure they're both getting the same mental image of Robin trying to dress Jeff. Too tight pants? Split up the ass? Eddie doesn't know, but he's sure it's hilarious, either way.

"We can't be late, we're the grand marshals," Gareth says.

"We won't be late," Steve assures, and Eddie's sure that's true. Steve Harrington never lets them be late to anything. Hasn't yet, in nearly thirty years. He's not gonna start today.

They stand on the street corner and look out over the sea of color. Rainbow flags waving in every direction. Everything, and everyone, is just so bright. It's a vast change from looking out over the crowd at a Corroded Coffin show where the majority of clothing is just shades of blacker than black.

But this is full color. Everything about it is, and it's fun in a different way. A rainbow in every direction he looks. They're branching out, and Eddie is determined to embrace that. There's no reason not to, he figures, and they were invited for a reason.

Because they were all wanted here.

The float they're supposed to get on is garish and bright, but everyone seems excited to see them, so Eddie smiles back. Accepts the hand offered to help him up onto the platform. Steve is with him, and with Steve, he can do anything. Even this.

Jeff's stuck zipper problem fixed, Robin is now hugging person after person, and it's her they have to thank for this whole idea, Eddie knows. Without her, they'd have never been asked. Eddie's absolutely sure about that. And that's fine. This isn't really his scene. But if they want him to participate, wave a rainbow flag, whatever, he'll do it. It's the least he can do for the community that accepted him, and his friends, when that wasn't always a given.

They didn't grow up in a time or place where being this out and proud was ever even conceived of, let alone done so publicly. So it's nice to see the change that has occurred in just a few decades of his lifetime. Things are different now, and that's pretty damn cool.

He may not want to be so front and center here, but being asked, being seen as some sort of gay icon, is flattering. He can't deny that.

The metal band, filled with members that are all some sort of queer, wasn't always destined to make it. They did anyway, beating the odds that were stacked against them.

They built up a whole community around themselves, and later a fandom, honestly, that loves them for exactly who they are.

The music is pumping off the float, and it feels straight out of Babylon. The thumpa-thumpa, alive and well. Gareth's found some sort of rainbow streamers, and he's waving them above his head.

Goodie has to be sweating buckets in all that leather in this heat, but he's standing at the edge of the float with Jeff, throwing out beads like it's Mardi Gras. Only, these are in rainbow colors. Jeff is wearing jean shorts that are cut so short, Eddie's scared anyone beneath him might be getting a free show.

Steve's standing on a chair, clapping and screaming with the music, creating a chant, "Let's hear it for the boy!"

Eventually, this ends with a mic in Eddie's hand as he climbs up to the top of the float, where he can see and be seen.

He raises both hands over his head and waves, and hears the screaming pointed back in his direction.

He finds Steve's eyes, blows him a kiss, and tips his head back and laughs.

"Happy Pride!" Eddie screams into the mic, and the crowd goes wild. It's not a Corroded Coffin show, that's for damn sure, but he feels very loved.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @corrodedcoffinfest and follow along with the fun! 🦇

#corrodedcoffinfest #prompt ten: pride #eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie fic #gareth stranger things #goodie (unnamed freak) stranger things #freak stranger things #jeff stranger things #corroded coffin fic #ccf day ten: pride #thisapplepielife: corrodedcoffinfest #thisapplepielife: short fic

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