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upsidedownwithsteve · 1 year ago

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Eddie Munson x fem!reader [4.7K] mean!eddie, toxic relationships, exes to hooking up, power plays and a nineties house party. You weren’t sure whose house you were in, but there was body glitter smeared across their white walls.

Weezer was blasting from the stereo in the living room, crowds of people moving between there and the kitchen, more draped over the staircase, making out with people they just met. You weren’t sure what time it was, but it was dark outside the windows, the rest of the house lit up with plug-in disco balls that spun slowly, discs of orange and red and blue and pink bouncing off of faces and floors.

It was late enough that you’d lost your shoes, late enough that the watermelon vodka you’d brought with you was empty. Late enough to make some bad decisions.

Robin found you in the kitchen, shoulders bumping against yours as she steadied herself, eyes red rimmed and she smelled like smoke and cherries, the blue eyeshadow you helped her perfect was now a smattering of aquamarine glitter down her cheeks. The lights made her look like a fairy, the cheap drink made her look too far gone.

“You okay?” You asked her, grinning when she pulled you into her chest, your cheek smashed against her own. You’d have matching freckles now, blue and sparkly. “Where’s Nance?”

“She’s peeing,” Robin yelled back, a little too loud since the music was fading into another song. You winced but laughed all the same when she smacked a noisy kiss to your cheek before turning her mouth to the shell of your ear. “That guy has been checking you out all night.”

Robin gestured not so subtly to a boy by the door. Tall, blonde, green eyes. Pretty enough, if you liked cargo pants and the Ed Hardy look. You didn’t know him but he caught your gaze and lifted his chin in greeting. You looked away.

“Mmm,” you wrinkled your nose and you dragged Robin back into the living room, coffee tables pushed up against walls as throngs of people gyrated under the lights. Everyone sparkled, mini skirts showing off bare legs, flashes of neon stripes in hair. “Not my type,” you told her.

“Oh, we’re getting fussy now, huh?” Nancy appeared between you both, a bright blue bottle of something in one hand. She took a sip and then offered it to Robin. “I thought you wanted laid tonight?”

You shrugged, looking down, avoidant. You plucked at the charm bracelet on your wrist, turning the glow stick that was wrapped above round and round. You weren’t sure where it came from but it turned your skin violet. “Maybe,” you told your friends. “I don’t know.”

You had wanted to get laid tonight. That was the plan, anyway. That’s why you were wearing your shortest skirt, a white, pleated thing that would be more suited for a cheerleader but a boy had once told you it was his favourite. The snag in the plan was that particular boy was nowhere to be found. You had already searched through the party with only the faces of strangers staring back at you, and when you made it into the backyard, your heart stalled at the sight of Gareth, of a leather jacket and a black and white baseball shirt.

But the boy wasn’t with his friend and you didn’t want to give either of them the satisfaction of letting them know you were looking. So when Gareth caught your eye and smirked, shrugging, you spun on your heel and tried to pretend you didn’t know even know him anymore.

It had been months, after all.

And you had been the one to break up with him. Hadn’t you? That part of the story was blurry, maybe even up for debate. At least, he liked to fight you on the fact of the matter. Another party, another girl who got too close, a situationship that hadn’t been defined even though the night before he was whispering all things sweet into the junction of your thighs. It had all been cherry vodka and weed, a messy argument under the blare of R’n’B and neither of you had had the patience to listen to the other.

You’d thrown his leather jacket at him and walked home.

The next weekend you’d watched as he pulled Tammy Peterson onto his lap and licked into her mouth, his heavy eyes on you as you stood across the room and watched. Tammy left with his jacket that night, heavy and clinking with zips and chains.

You hadn’t spoken since.

So why did seeing his name buzz across your phone screen not surprise you?

munson: heard u were lookin 4 me

You scoffed, staring down at the little pink phone in your hand, the tiny text barely even visible in the low light. Confidence oozed from his message and you lifted your head, scanning through the crowd until you found Gareth, still lingering by the back door and he grinned knowingly when he caught your eye. You scowled, lifting your hand to flip him the bird and the sincerity of it was lessened by the butterfly ring on your finger.

Robin and Nancy frowned, both of them moving to your sides to peer over your shoulders. “What’s going on? Who’s texted you?”

You hit the back button suspiciously quick, the green Home Screen empty of anything incriminating but you still hid it against your chest. The device seemed to burn you, as did your cheeks. “What?” You yelled over the music, swallowing hard. You suddenly wished the stereo was louder. “Nothing. No one.”

It was easy to make an excuse then, leaving the two girls on the makeshift dance floor as you pushed past people on the staircase, elbowing couples who were too busy making out. You caught the bathroom door just as someone was leaving it, a boy too drunk to stand upright and he slurred something at you just before you slammed it behind him, sliding the lock into place. The music was quieter in there, a muted thud of drum and bass from below your feet. There was a half full can of beer on the toilet cistern and someone had left their bra in the bathtub. There was more glitter on the tiles, pink, lavender and gold and the overhead bulb had been swapped out for a bug zapper, the whole room turned violet.

You tapped out a reply, perched against the sink, bubblegum pink nails pressing furiously at the buttons, your nose scrunched in annoyance, the tip of your tongue trapped between teeth.

u heard wrong :)

You didn’t have to wait long for a reply, your cell vibrating in your hands and announcing a new text message. The tiny screen of your Nokia lit up green with the boy’s name, something that still made your heart pound.

munson: dont play coy w me sweetheart.. we both know u miss me x

don’t flatter yourself baby

You knew this game. You loved this game. And Eddie Munson was your favourite person to play it with. It was coming around to that late night early morning hour that led to badly made plans, that time of the night when friends were too drunk to keep tabs and the front door of the house you were in had a pretty golden glow to it, an escape to someone’s bed.

You squeezed your thighs together, chipped nail polish tapping against your teeth and you chewed at your thumb, waiting. You really did want to get laid. It had been too long, one drunken hook up since you’d decided that Eddie wasn’t worth your time anymore, a guy from the town over, taken back to yours after a party in someone else’s backyard that led to beer pong and a heavy make out session against a strangers corvette.

He couldn’t find your clit, thought foreplay was a few minutes of pinching at your tits and he came before you were close to anything that resembled pleasure. Then he drank the last of your OJ, stole your phone charger and left at four am.

This? Eddie? One last hook up? You needed this. Nay, you deserved this. Even if your friends would strongly disagree. Your relationship with Eddie Munson had been somewhat tumultuous, most would say. From high school sweethearts to twenty somethings that were headed in different directions, he was a boy you couldn’t quit all that easily. Eddie liked guitar and gaming, smoking weed and sleeping in and your chances at a decent enough career path were woefully diminished if you stayed behind in Hawkins for him.

Eddie grew anxious, jealous, turned resentful and then got too cocky, growing out his curls, wearing big boots and leather jackets and giving himself tattoos in his friends' basements. You got colder, distant, impatient. Then break ups ended in make ups and that ended in fucking him in the front seat of his van and it would happen all over again the next weekend.

It was fun until it wasn’t.

But the sex was fucking ridiculous.

And so was Eddie’s confidence because he simply replied with an address, the new apartment you’d only heard about. He’d taken his time, but he’d saved up and moved out of Wayne’s, out of the trailer park and into a small one bed, a new girl every other weekend to grace the sheets.

munson: 624 Oakbank Street apt 61B. second floor sweetheart, c u soon ;)

No. You wouldn’t. You shouldn’t. You did. Fuck it, it’s fine.

You unlocked the door, swerved the drunk girls who fell in through the frame and tackled the stairs again, hopping over splayed limbs and couples intertwined, heading for the front door and hoping someone would be around who could take you to the other side of town.

“Where are you going?”

Robin. She was grinning, smug, knowing. You shrugged, pocketing your cell before she could grab it and you resisted the urge to make a run for it. “Nowhere. Home. I’m hungry.”

Robin snorted, glitter specks shining from her cheeks. “For dick? Or a cheeseburger?”

Your lips quirked up. There wasn’t much use in lying. “Both?”

—————

Eddie was standing at his apartment door when you turned the corner. Your heels had clicked up the stairwell and the wall sconces lit the way, your eyes flicking over each door number until it didn’t matter anymore. 61B was already open, a boy standing in the frame in soft jeans, acid wash blue with rips in the knees, a Metallica band shirt that’s collar was loose and stretched out. He still had his rings on, silver and chunky and supposedly scary looking.

The chain you’d bought him for his birthday last year was still around his neck.

It should’ve made you angry, it should’ve at least made you annoyed but the cheap vodka and the empty feeling in your chest and between your legs had you head spinning. A record that stuttered and skipped, the same dirty loop stuck in your head because you were sure there’d been much hotter men at the party, maybe. Probably.

Right?

But at that moment, Eddie was the prettiest thing you’d ever seen. He was smirking, arms crossed and leaning against the door frame, curls soft and falling into his eyes like he’d just washed them and you tried not to walk faster, to not trip over yourself in a haste to get to him.

He didn’t kiss you hello. He just kept smirking and he moved to the side to let you in, eyes shining with glee as he followed your movements, your body brushing past him as you entered his new place. It smelled like his room at Wayne’s, held the same scene that once reminded you of home, smoke and hidden weed, Eddie’s cologne and the same detergent his uncle used.

It made you bristle and square your shoulders. This wasn’t the plan.

“Nice place,” you said and you sounded bored, unimpressed. Good. “I see we’re still not giving up the toys.” You gestured to the shelf above the sofa, a line of hand painted figurines placed carefully in a battle formation.

“They’re collectibles, sweetheart,” Eddie grinned and he didn’t sound phased. He didn’t look bothered. “Have some taste. You want a drink?”

“We both know I’m not here for you to wine and dine me, Eddie,” you tilled your eyes and stood in the middle of the room, your hands on your hips. Suddenly, your skirt felt so much shorter than it had before and the boy let his gaze fall to your legs, the expanse of bare thigh that was framed by pretty pleats. “Let’s not act cute.”

Eddie huffed out a laugh, an eyebrow quirked. He let himself drop onto the sofa, an army green thing with corduroy cushions, his arms stretched out along the back of it. He pouted. “You don’t think I’m cute?”

You said nothing. You couldn’t. Your heart was beating too fast.

Eddie made a cooing sound, a soft, patronising thing that made your toes curl in your heels and the cotton fabric of your underwear just grew a little wetter, clinging to you. It was awful.

“We both know you think I’m cute, c’mon now,” Eddie teased. His eyes were shining, dark in the low light because he only had one damn lamp in the room. “You don’t wanna play nice? Fine.” He leaned forward, elbows on his knees and he plucked a half smoked joint from the amber glass ashtray on the coffee table in front of him. He sparked up, placing it lazily between his lips before gesturing to you, gaze heavy. Smoke trailed from his lips as he spoke, the joint between his lips, expertly held in place with no hands. “Take your clothes off then.”

You should’ve been outraged, you should’ve laughed in his face. You should’ve flipped him off and grabbed the bag you dumped on his breakfast bar and left. But Eddie was grinning at you and he looked like a challenge, he looked like a dare, he looked like the prettiest fucking mistake and you really wanted to make a bad decision.

A terrible one, maybe. Fuck it, it’s fine.

You shrugged off your jacket. Denim and metal buttons hitting the floor and you kept eye contact the entire time, unflinching when Eddie’s grin widened. He relaxed, looking every bit in control as he slouched into the couch cushions, eyes wandering over the bare skin you uncovered, smoke trailing from his barely parted lips and up to the ceiling.

He was already hard, you could tell. You could see. The heavy bulge prominent underneath his denim, twitching as he got off on being in control.

Your hands came to your chest, trailing down your sternum and chasing the tiny lavender buttons there, a purple camisole top popped apart with each twist of your fingers. It fell apart without much effort, fell to the floor when easier with a tiny shrug of your shoulders and you stood in just your skirt and chunky heels, looking like some kind of wet dream barbie.

You didn’t need a bra with the plans you’d had for yourself.

You cocked your head to the side, indifferent, unbothered. You tried to act like your heart wasn’t racing, like your cunt wasn’t throbbing and you wanted to beg to be touched. Eddie could play a cruel game and weakness wasn’t an option, so you stood a little taller and let your tits jut out all pretty, peaked nipples and trails of Robin’s pink body glitter evident on your collarbone.

Eddie sucked in a breath, lips twisting to hide the twitch of a smile that seemed more real than the others, a proud grin that told you you were winning so far. So you hooked your thumbs into the waist of your skirt and shimmed your hips, white pleats joining the rest of your clothes on the floor, a pretty pool of fabric and dignity.

Bubblegum pink thong, cherry red heels, strappy and with platforms high enough to crush a man’s ego.

“Keep the shoes on,” Eddie murmured, jaw tense, cheeks a rosy flush. “They’re real pretty, honey. They new?” The boy leaned forward again, elbows in knees, the roach stubbed out in the ashtray.

You nodded, bottom lip tucked between your teeth and your bracelets jingled as you ran your hands down your stomach, fingertips trailing along the delicate string of your underwear that curved over your hips, the soft of your stomach.

“If I told you to come n’suck my dick, would you do that too?” Eddie’s smile was sharklike, his words taunting, a little mean. Like he thought he was still winning. “You look so pretty on your knees, you know that? Love it when you put that hot little mouth to use.”

Your eyes narrowed even though your breathing hitched. Just a little, not enough for him to notice. But you knew it was only a matter of time before you had to rub your thighs together and the pretty pink shade of your underwear would turn a little darker. “Take your clothes off and we’ll see what happens.”

Eddie laughed, a brave noise, smug and cocky. He tilted his head, jaw a strong line, the shadow of stubble there and you knew if you got to dig your teeth into it, he’d moan for you.

“You think you’re callin’ the shots here, babe? That’s real cute, you’re almost naked and you think you’re in charge?”

You grinned back, standing a little prouder, fingers hooking into the hand of your thong, running across your navel. Eddie followed the movement, gritted his teeth and huffed.

“That’s exactly why I’m in charge,” you cooed, pouting, sickly sweet and far from innocent. “Take your clothes off, Eddie, don’t be shy.”

He shook his head, too stubborn, an age old game you both played so well. Except before, it was sweetened with kisses, soft laughter and gentle hands that teased and coaxed the other into submission. Now? Now this was just psychological warfare.

He stared at you, mean, eyes narrowed and his cheeks still pink, slouched back on the sofa with a casual hand thrown over his crotch. You weren’t sure if it was supposed to hide his hard on or offer some relief, but you watched the length of him twitch when you shifted your weight, popping one hip and he pressed his palm over himself.

You grinned, victorious.

But still, he didn’t move. So you sighed, wistful and dramatic and you tried to ignore the rising heat in your chest because you were so exposed and so vulnerable, ready to lay yourself bare for the guy that broke your heart and then spent each Saturday night in bed with you, pretending that he didn’t.

But hey, maybe you were to blame for that too.

Instead of saying anything else, you shrugged and made your way over to an armchair. You recognised it from Wayne’s trailer, one Eddie must’ve taken to remind him of home and you dropped yourself onto it, one leg hooked over an arm. You let your head fall back, lazy, the last buzz from the beer you took in the back of the cab simmering below your skin and you didn’t waste anymore time teasing. Your hand slid into the front of your thong, fingers seeking out in the way they knew best, parting your folds until you were spread and hidden, eyes scrunching shut at the pad of your finger swiping over your clit.

You made a pretty noise, extra soft and gasping, just for Eddie. He’d long since taught you how to put on a show, always about the drama. So you whined, let your lips fall into a pout and arched your back. Your fingers slipped down, prodding experimentally at your entrance before you gave up all pretence and slid two inside of yourself, not long enough, not thick enough, but it satiated the empty feeling that had clung to you since you first arrived at the party.

“Fuck,” Eddie groaned and your eyes shot open, gaze finding his and he was pinker then before, all flushed cheeks and glassy eyes, his ringed fingers wrapping around the outline of his cock through his jeans and he squeezed it roughly. “Jesus Christ, sweetheart, that’s just filthy.”

He said it like a compliment, words like a reward and they made your body fizz, skin electric and you smiled, humming lazily like you didn’t care.

You did you did you did.

You wanted to one up him, you wanted to win, you wanted to break him and put him back together and make him fall in love with you all over again. You wanted to make sure he never looked at another girl. You wanted to make him crawl.

So you pulled your fingers from yourself, slick and glossy in the low light, bringing them to your lips before you sucked them. Eddie’s jaw dropped, eyes hooded and pupils blown wide and he leaned forward, desperate to see more. He was barely holding himself up, clinging to the coffee table as he stared at the space between your thighs.

“Holy fuck, babe, that— that’s,” he cut himself off with a groan when you snuck your hand back inside your underwear, wet fingers sliding noisily over your clit. “Oh, that’s so fuckin’ hot. Come ‘n let me have a taste, baby. Let me get my mouth on that pretty pussy, huh?”

You shook your head and smiled, cotton candy underwear stretched tight over your knuckles and you moved a little quicker. You weren’t giving in. You’d make yourself come before you did.

It took three more minutes before Eddie moved, growling obscenities as he stood and yanked off his shirt, snapping at his belt buckle with one hand as he crossed the room. You thought he’d be on you, you thought he’d maybe drop to the floor and put his mouth on you, lick you slow and soft like he was so good at, like he’d asked for. But he grinned something wicked as he grabbed your wrist, hand tugged from between your thighs and then you were pulled up. He wasn’t rough about it, but he certainly wasn’t gentle.

“You wanna play games?” He huffed, voice wavering a little because he finally had his hands on you. Eddie gazed down at you, still a little taller even despite your heels. His hand caught your chin, finger and thumb pinching at your cheeks until your lips popped into a pout and you burned. “Let’s play, pretty thing. You wanna be my toy, huh?”

You gave in, only just. You nodded, gasping when Eddie’s thumb stroked over your lips and he smiled, boyish and charming and all too pretty. Then he spoke. “I always used to break my toys.”

Fuck.

He spun you, fast enough to be disorienting and then you were pushed onto the armchair, knees on the cushions and your chest to the back of it. Your hands curled over the top of it, holding on for what was about to come. The first smack on your ass was startling, hard enough to warm you, heat blooming over the curve of you keened, eyes slipping shut and into that fuzzy space only Eddie seemed to be able to bring you to. Your head fell forward, resting on the cushion and you sighed, his name a whisper that you hoped he didn’t hear.

“C’mon, baby,” you could hear the grin in his voice and he slapped your other ass cheek, making the fat there bounce. “Make it pretty for me, hm?”

You knew what he wanted and you obeyed, too far gone from the feel of your own fingers, the emptiness that was left after Eddie stopped you from coming. You sucked in a breath and pushed your ass out further, back arched real pretty, your cheek squished to the back cushion. Eddie stood behind you, godlike, unzipping his jeans and pulling his cock free. He stroked it, rough and he get handed, the way you’d learned to touch him, eager, thick fingers pulling at the head until it turned pinker and pinker.

“Tell me you want it.”

“No.” Your voice sounded small, wavering.

You sounded like you were lying.

Eddie laughed. “Still wanna play? Fine.”

Two hands palmed at your ass, skin warm and rings cool, the silver catching at your skin as he squeezed, pulling at your cheeks until they spread obscenely and Eddie groaned. He used his thumb to hook into your thong, pulling what little material there was away from your skin until he got to look at all of you.

Spread all pretty, slick and wet and shining. A line of spit hit your ass, sliding warm to cool over your puckered hole until it trickled down, seeping into the seam of your cunt and you dripped with him. Fuck.

Fuck. Fuck it. It’s fine.

It’s fine.

Eddie hummed, enjoying the view, enjoying himself, enjoying you. His thumb brushed over your, making you jump in surprise, his soft laughter leaving you burning until you felt the head of his cock line up with your cunt, spreading your folds around his tip. He pushed, just slightly, enough for you to feel the beginning of the stretch and you whined, arching back more, eager. Desperate.

“Say you want my cock.”

No niceties, no pet names. No affection. Just a power play. Eddie didn’t want a relationship. He wanted to win.

“No.”

Another laugh, proud and amused and your stubbornness earned your another swift smack and this time you let the boy’s name fall from your lips a little louder. Eddie swore, moaning with you because his name coming from the back of your throat sounded like sex, like victory. So he tried again, a little sweeter.

“C’mon, baby,” he cooed. He tugged at his cock, let it slide against the dean of you until he was as slick as you were. “Feels good, don’t it? You wanna feel me deep? You wanna feel me here, honey?” He let his hand tuck around you, palming over your tummy and you whined, nodding.

Game over.

Fuck it, it’s fine. It’s really fine.

“Please,” you murmured, voice hoarse, head hazy. “Please, Teddy.”

And just like that, the playing field was evened out. The nickname made the boy crumble, a gasping, groaning sound tumbling from his mouth and he melted over you, his chest to your back, cock sliding in, a tight, hot wet stretch and suddenly you were full.

You cried out, eyes snapping shut, jaw loose and head falling forward. Eddie caught you, one hand on your hip and the other sinking into your hair as he tugged you back up, a little mean, a little rough. But he brought your face to his, cheek to cheek as he cooed, murmuring pretty things about his pretty girl and it was all too much.

It felt like the beginning.

“Look at you, fuck,” he sounded gone, words stuttering out of him with every hard thrust and his hands were bruising, palming at your hips, your tummy, skating over the column of your throat until every part of you felt heated. “Who’s pussy is this? Huh? She’s fuckin’ made for me, sweetheart, so tight she doesn’t wanna let me go.”

His words made you come, like they always did, hot and filthy and possessive and murmured low in your ear. And then Eddie came too, hips jerking, groaning wild, curls falling down his back as he tipped his head and emptied himself inside of you. He liked to sweep his fingers through your folds after it, feeling himself dripping hot and slick out of your cunt.

And then when you collected your clothes from the living room floor, Eddie was sitting shirtless on his couch as you dressed yourself, already rolling another joint. The lighter flickered, a blue-orange in the night they seemed so much darker and colder now Eddie had moved away from you.

He hadn’t kissed you once, you realised, your lips lonely. He had blue glitter on his cheek, galactic freckles that matched yours. He was still dripping down the inside of your thighs when he raised his cell and asked you:

“D��you want me to call you a cab?”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson drabble

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itallcomesfromhoney · 6 months ago

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just friends | kirishima eijirou x bakugo katsuki x reader

synopsis: friends to lovers ft. fake dating

note: ahh! thank you so much for all the love on the teaser, this is the first fic i’ve actually written, not entirely sure where it’s going yet but we’ll figure that one out. i wanted some context to these three so we're starting with a first year throwback before we go straight in, let me know if you'd like more of their friendship years sprinkled in. i'm so sorry for the delay, feedback is always appreciated and feel free to pop into my inbox any time ✨

wordcount: 1.6k

chapter one

“Outta my way, nerds!”

You feel pressure between your shoulder blades and you stumble forward into the freshly red headed boy in front of you. Eijirou Kirishima catches you by your forearms and raises his dark eyebrows at whoever it was that pushed you, “That wasn’t very manly.” You follow his gaze to see a blonde figure, almost out of sight across the cement plaza already and a small black cloud appeared above your head at the sight. “What is his issue” You scowled, tiny drops of rain spit out into your immediate area, accompanied by low grumbles of thunder and Kirishima waves his hand through the thick cloud, dispersing it back into the atmosphere. “C’mon, Stormcloud, let’s find our class before you flood us all.”

You and Kirishima had gone to middle school together, quickly becoming friends and applying for UA together alongside Mina Ashido, your mutual pink friend. The three of you had managed to get not only onto the same course but into the same class, by some miracle. The pair of you walk side by side, attempting to navigate the corridors of the new school, but mostly just taking everything in. You marvel at the upperclassmen loitering near their classrooms, you can’t help but to daydream about that being you someday. Your face heats as a pretty girl with long lavender hair waves a hand at you and you quickly face the floor as she giggles to her friends, “First years are just so cute”

Eventually you both find the room marked '1-A' and slide into the class behind a small freckled boy with green curls that you vaguely recognised from the entrance exam, “…put a stick up your ass?” Your ears pricked as you recognised the voice from earlier and the room darkened as another storm cloud formed above your own head. “You’re totally joking” you grumbled at Kirishima, eyes locking onto the blonde head of hair that had shoved you earlier, at least it looked like it wasn’t just you he had beef with. Kirishima shook his head and tugged you away by your shoulders, “What are the odds”

“Whoa sick cloud” You snapped your eyes off of the angry looking boy, now arguing with a tall dark haired boy to look at yet another blonde, this time with black stripes near his eyes and a wide friendly smile. “Do you, like, make that?” He asked you, staring at the grey mass rolling above you head. You shook your head to clear my previous thoughts and the cloud dissipated, replacing itself with a warm breeze that ruffled your hair before stilling. “Oh! Um yeah, kind of?” You stammered, rubbing the back of your neck, “I can’t control it very well yet though” “Kaminari Denki, your quirk is so cool!” You introduced yourself to the ball of sunshine in front of you and Kirishima did the same. “So, what’s your quirk?” Kirishima asked the new boy and you half listened to the pair chatting as you scanned the rest of the classroom.

You recognised a fair few people from the exams, you realised, not just the small green boy, who now seemed to be locked in a tense conversation with the scary blonde. There was a small brunette girl, bouncing slightly on her toes who you were sure had some sort of levitation quirk, maybe? And oh god, there was a tiny boy with shiny purple spheres attached to his head with a spooky looking smile on his face who you distinctly remember harassing a group of girls at the exams. You spotted Mina, already making friends with a tall brunette girl a few rows down and sent her a wave before a huge yellow tube seemingly appeared at the front of the room, “Welcome, to UA’s hero course.”

— Months Later —

The Class A dorms were buzzing with activity, chatter bouncing around the hallways as everyone got ready for the school dance. “I can’t believe you actually convinced me to wear this stupid thing!” Bakugo scoffed, looking down at his suit and tugging roughly on his tie. Kirishima eyed him and laughed, “Bakubro, c’mon! It’s a dance! You can’t wear a suit without a tie.” “I’ll do what I want, shitty hair”

The boys’ banter was interrupted as the elevator opened, revealing you wrapped in a baby blue silk slip and fiddling with a small piece of hair that wouldn’t quite sit in place. “Wow! You look great Y/N!” Eijirou gasped, running a hand through his red hair. You smile at the red head and smooth down the fabric of your dress, “Thanks, Eijirou! You boys look nice” “Thanks!” Eijirou beamed, looking over at Katsuki for his opinion, only to be met with a frown. “Tsk” Katsuki made a noise of dissatisfaction. “Suit’s too tight…” Eijirou rolled his eyes at the blonde boy, “I doubt it is. It looks the same as it always-” “Shut up!” Katsuki’s scowl deepened, muttering under his breath.

You frown at Bakugo, “Is it the tie?” You ask the blonde, concerned. You knew he’d apparently been sensitive to tight clothes around his neck since his encounter with the sludge villain, not that he’d ever really admit it. “Don't get why these damn things have to be so tight.” Katsuki looked away and grunted to himself. “Hey man. You sure you're alright?” Kirishima asked, “I’m fine. Just shut up.” You stepped forward to tug on Bakugo’s tie, loosening it slightly and popping his top button open, “Is that a bit better?” Katsuki was caught off-guard by the sudden tug, but let out a small breath when he felt the tie loosen up. He turned around to face you. “Thanks or whatever” He nodded his head once, his scowl softening just a bit. You smile at him and step backwards, checking yourself over in the reflection of the large window in the common area, “Let’s go then, we can’t keep everyone else waiting” You joke, moving to leave the dorms.

The two boys fell in line behind you as your trio made their way towards the main hall, Kirishima nudged Bakugo once as they stepped into the crowd of students. “Looks like your mood is better.” Katsuki huffed in response, crossing his arms. “Whatever. I just wanna get this crap over with already” “Lighten up, Katsuki, you might even have fun” You tease, Kirishima snickered “She’s right, y'know? You’re just stubborn” “Whatever, shitty hair. I’m not having fun.” Bakugo looked away, but couldn’t hide the small smile on his face. Eijirou sighed, shaking his head but smiling back at his friend. “Eijirou and I will just have fun without you then!” You joke, grabbing Kirishima’s hand and tugging him behind you into the hall. Eijirou barked a signature laugh and let you drag him forward as Bakugo rolled his eyes. “Hey! Wait up, nerds!” Katsuki stepped forward and began following the two of you at a leisurely pace, trying his best to act stony.

As soon as you stepped into the hall you smiled, looking at all the decorations and scanning the crowd for some of your other friends and classmates. Spotting them across the room, you tug Eijirou over, you knew Katsuki would catch up eventually. The theme of the year was 'Under the Sea', the room swathed in blues and bright corals, sunny spotlights dancing around the walls and briefly you wondered if Gang Orca or Selkie had had anything to do with it. You hear a pitched squeal as you and Kirishima make your way to your classmates and you let go of his hand as Mina tackles you into a hug, “Hi! You look so gorgeous!” You feel your face warm as you thank her, repeating the comment back to her. Mina was decked out in a soft green dress, the fabric shimmering against her pink skin.

Bakugo had chosen this moment to catch up to the group, an unimpressed look on his tanned face. “You know, you could’ve waited for me you two…” He grumbles and you shoot a wink to him over your shoulder, “Where’s the fun in that?” The blonde huffs but otherwise doesn’t respond and Kirishima shoulders the other boy lightly, “You could smile, you know” he teases. Bakugo grits his teeth and looks away, fully intending to ignore his friend, but he eyes the crowd of classmates forming around you, watching carefully.

“Hi! You all look great!” You smile, spotting some of the other boys heading over. Mina, forever the gossip, lights up as she spots a particular classmate and pulls him over, Todoroki’s own baby blue tie shines on his chest, “Todoroki! You two totally match!” It was a complete accident, but his tie matched your dress perfectly, the fabrics looking as if they were pulled from the same reel, you doubted it though; it was likely that his tie cost at least triple what your dress did. The half and half boy blushes and agrees, smiling a little “Y/N, you look nice” he compliments.

Bakugo rolled his eyes at the interaction, “Blue for under the sea? How original.” You turn and frown at the blonde, “Don’t be rude, Bakugo.” You hiss glaring at him. Bakugo scoffs but says nothing else and Kirishima looks at the taller boy with his eyebrows pinched, “Why didn’t we think to wear blue” he whines; Bakugo glares at him.

You chat with the group for a while before pulling away from the group, moving off to be with Kirishima and Bakugo. “What’s wrong with you?” You raise an eyebrow at the blonde boy’s scowl. “Nothing.” He frowned, not looking at you as he crossed his arms again. “Were we supposed to wear blue?” Kirishima asks you, still pouting, you tilt your head in confusion “Why would you?” “Don’t be a dumbass” Bakugo mutters, and you’re not entirely sure if it’s directed at you or Eijirou. You shake the weird comment off, “Well if you’re going to be grumpy all night, I’ll just dance with, Eijirou.” For the second time that evening, you wind your hand into Kirishima’s and tug him towards the dancefloor and for the second time that evening, the muscular boy lets you.

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✨taglist: @abadbitchblogs @/sixxze (i haven't been able to tag you!) @/I0ren12 (I can't tag you either, I'm so sorry!)✨

#mha #my hero academia #just friends kiribaku #kiribaku x reader #kirishima x reader #bakugo x reader #kirishima eijirou #katsuki bakugou #bnha #boku no hero academia

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monokrown · 1 year ago

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Dumping my new eggs design HCs here!

Empanada - her hair is two toned with some thick highlights because of mouse, niki, and bagi

She has vitiligo and her eyes are a lighter color maybe pink or purple/or just yellow or hazel

She dresses like mouse with very detailed dresses and skirts and some other accessories that can come from her other parents like ribbons and such

Honestly I like seeing her being black or Mexican or any other ethnicity/race because I just think her with big thick curly hair would be sooo cute <3

Edit: I forgot about her pancake hat but I think It would look like a beret or be represented by her dress with many layers that’s as creative as I can get lol

SunnySideUp - her ethnicity would be black because I love seeing her designs with black features!

Her hair is blonde in the roots and the rest of her hair is white because it resembles a sunny side up egg and because of lenay and tubbos hair!

Her outfits I’d imagine looks like tubbos with some cargo pants and oversized or cropped shirts maybe a cool jacket for the look and combat boots the color scheme could be adjusted to fit with the other parents

Pepito - This one is tough because I don’t know how to style the stripped shirt…but I will try!

I really like the designs I’ve seen with pepito’s hair being very short and light brown with slight messy curls and green eyes

Pepito’s skin tone would be tan with freckles and thick brows

I think pepito would dress like Rivers and Quackity I like to imagine the stripes are thicker so the design doesn’t look so weird in my opinion and pepito has a red oversized jacket with shorts like rivers the sneakers are also untied

Another design could be a jumpsuit kind of like Carre or Mariana it could even be taken off halfway and tied around the waist to show the stripped shirt or just not zipped up all the way..idk I’m trying to think of something cute!

I’ve seen people also draw pepito in a salon looking outfit which I also love!

But here is all my head-canon designs I hope you like them and maybe are inspired by them! Maybe I’ll be tempted to draw them but idk when 🤷‍♀️

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cherrythepuppet · 1 year ago

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My Corpse Puppet fanfic

I wanted it to End with (Y/n) and Wally together and being childhood friends that forgot each other BTW Corpse Puppet belongs to @sketchquill

"He- hey! Wait up!" A child yelled as she ran after her friend who was running into the woods "Wals can we not go into the forest?" They askedHer long/short/medium (H/c) hair was blowing in the wind as they spoke "(Y/n) it's just the woods nothing bad will happen" her friend wally reassured them

(Y/n) never liked the forest, the way the trees looked and how it was so close to the graveyard made them uncomfortableWally grabbed their hand and then smiled at them before running into the forest with (Y/n) following closely behind

The two stopped when they got to a big old oak tree where another kid was waiting "Wally! (Y/n)!" They exclaimed This kid had short dark red hair, light pink skin and an upside down heart nose, they wore They had a red shirt with striped sleeves and overalls over their clothes and unicorn socks on "You two are late!" They groaned

"Sorry cherry" (Y/n) mumbled "(Y/n) got scared of the woods again" Wally said "It's fine but come on!" Cherry exclaimed as she grabbed wallys free hand

The three ten year olds were all running throughout the woods laughing, talking or smiling

"Darling you really do need to stop being so scared of everything" Wally mumbled "I know and I'm trying!" (Y/n) told him

"I know dear I know" Wally smiled "Let's go before we miss the funeral" he added as he grabbed (Y/n)'s small hand As the two were walking to the graveyard they had bumped into a young women

She had salmon skin and She has downturned, oval-shaped eyes with black pupils and two eyelashes on each eye. Her eyebrows are small and black. Her nose is round and orange

She has a nice-looking smile, with pinkish blush coloring her cheeks. Her honey-blonde hair is teased into a beehive hairstyle, which is held by a white headband. She has two face-framing pieces of hair hanging loose. She also has two orange and yellow striped horns, She was also wearing a dull red striped dress with ruffles on the wrists, collar and skirt, Wally stared at her with wide eyes

"I'm terribly sorry miss!" (Y/n) said "Come on wally" they added as they helped wally off the ground "It is alright you two just must have been in a hurry!" The women said with a chuckle"Y-yes! We're going to our friend's funeral" Wally said snapping out of his trance

"Oh? I am very sorry for your loss" the women said "Uhm- I'm Wally, Wally Darling" Wally said as he held out his hand "Julie joyful" the women said as she shook his hand, (Y/n) watched the whole interaction with concern and a bit of jealousy "Wally we need to go" they said as she grabbed his arm and walked off

"Wally you can't love her you just met!" (Y/n) told him "You sound like my mother" Wally mumbled "Maybe I do but that's because I'm just looking out for you" (Y/n) said in a calm voice as they put a hand on his shoulder

Wally took their hand off "If you were really my friend then you would be supportive wouldn't you?" He asked "Wally you just met! She could be a murderer for all we know!" (Y/n) yelled

Their patience was getting thinner and thinner "And?! Nobody that perfect can be a killer!" Wally yelled back "You know what?! I think your just jealous because someone loves me and not you-" he paused

He realized what he said and his eyes widened when he saw small tears in (Y/n)'s eyes "Fine...Fine! Go marry her! Because if you die I'm not coming to your funeral! And all I'll tell you is I told you so!" (Y/n) yelled before stomping off

"Wally Darling found dead by old oak tree!" The town crier yelled as they walked around town

(Y/n) was in her room looking out the window "I told you..." they mumbled as she stared at the moon and stars shining from the dark blue sky

(Y/n) sat at her desk holding a quill in hand as they sketched out a bright blue butterfly and occasionally looking at the one they had in a glass casing as their reference

Once they had finished their drawing they let the butterfly go, it flew around her room for a moment before leaving through the opened window "(Y/n)! Hurry up!" (Y/n)'s mother yelled from outside(Y/n) sighed as they left her room and entered the outside

"Morning Mr and Mrs (L/n)! And Morning (Y/n)!" Eddie said as he walked past their house "Good morning Eddie" (Y/n) said"(Y/n)! We are late now come on!" (Y/n)'s mother yelled as she and her father sat in the stagecoach waiting for their daughter

(Y/n) climbed into the Stage coach as the driver whipped the reins and the horses began moving, The ride was silent until the parents began talking "You've certainly hooked winner this time, (Y/n)." Her father said

"Now, all you have to do is reel him in" Her Mother told her"l'm Already reeling, Mother." (Y/n) mumbled as she stared out the window "Shouldn't Howdy be marrying a Lady or something?" She asked

"Oh, nonsense! We're every bit as good as the Pillers! l always knew l deserved better than a fish merchant's life." Her mother said"But l've never even spoken to him" (Y/n) told them

"Well, at least we have that in our favor" Her father mumbled as the driver began coughing"Leo! Silence that Blasted coughing!" Her mother yelled as hit the roof of the stage coach soon it parked outside a huge mansion and the (L/n)'s got out....

#welcome home #welcome home au #corpse puppet au #wally darling x reader #writing #fanfic

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floraphoenix · 1 year ago

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Cause of Death: Crushed by Thighs (Ominis X Reader)

Warning: smut, characters are 18+

She sat on the table, watching as Ominis got to his knees in front of her. The room was feeling considerably milder than before. The blind man shuffled forward, taking her foot in his hand and kissing the top of it. His hands delicately brushed up her calf, and Ominis savoured the smoothness of the skin, gently pulling her legs further apart.

She continued to watch in silence, but Ominis could practically feel her gaze. The hairs on the back of his neck stood, and he paused for the briefest of moments, before feeling for the hem of her skirt, lifting it and ducking his head under.

This caused her to gasp, and Ominis grinned when he heard it. She must think this is scandalous; a man with his head up a woman’s skirt? Honestly, who’d have thought it?

Him, obviously.

This will be fun.

Turning to face her thigh, he caressed the skin softly with the tips of his fingers, before pressing a chaste kiss to the skin. Up and down he kissed, feeling how the muscles tensed under his lips, and he smiled after hearing her breath hitch. Kissing soon turned to little nibbles, brushing his teeth along her thigh, and little nibbles soon turned to outright biting.

She let out a breathy “oh” when she felt his teeth sink into the flesh, and he pulled back, running a thumb over the skin and feeling the little indents each individual tooth had left.

Good. Maybe that’ll stay for a while.

He decided then that this particular thigh had suffered enough abuse, so he turned and started attacking the other.

Because he didn’t start off as gentle as he was with the other leg, instead opting to go straight in for a bite, her legs closed instinctively around his head.

What a way to go, huh. What a helluva way to die.

Death by thighs.

Ominis decided that, while it was honourable, “Cause of death: head crushed by a beautiful woman's thighs” was probably not an appropriate thing to put on his death certificate.

But back to the task at hand!

Another bite (and using most of his strength to pry her legs apart again) and his companion whispered his name.

Ha, nice.

He moved his hand upward, and was suddenly toeing the line of uncharted territory. One obstacle;

By the feel of it, in his way stood a pair of frilly knickers, decorated with a little bow at the front.

He traced his index finger along the seam on the garments, leaning his cheek against her thigh, unseeing eyes slowly blinking.

Was he stalling for time? He didn’t really know. He’d tell himself he wasn’t, but something was missing.

“Nis,” a voice sounded, and suddenly the skirt was whipped out the way, leaving his hair tousled and an utter blonde mess, and his head instinctively snapped up. His imagination totally got the best of him in that moment, and he gazed longingly upward, picturing this beautiful lady, with her mouth drawn up in a bow, and her eyebrows creased upward. His cheeks flushed, and he couldn't help thinking that maybe her cheeks were just as red, or maybe pink.

He could hear her heavy breathing, and imagined how her breasts looked as she huffed, rising and falling rapidly.

(These thoughts didn't much help his erection, which twitched in interest, straining against his underwear.)

She continued, “get the hell on with it!” before throwing the skirt back over his head, and Ominis did not need telling twice.

Hooking a finger over the waistband, he pulled the knickers down, tugging them all the way to her ankle. By this point, he’d emerged from under the skirt (again), focusing on getting the bloody things out of the way.

The offending garments dropped sadly to the floor, but were immediately forgotten about when Ominis sprung forward in anticipation.

He kissed her mound, revelling in the pretty sounds she let out, before licking a stripe along her slit.

"Ominis, please," he heard her whisper, and grinned against her heat.

It was times like these where he really wished he could see. He desperately wanted to see what he did to her; maybe she'd bite her lip so hard it would bleed. Maybe her eyes would cross-

Oh, what he'd give to see that.

His tongue darted forward, and he heard her gasp and felt her thighs tense as the wet muscle breached her opening.

Ok, he'd admit that he's never done this before. This was entirely new, and he was a teeny tiny wee bit scared or doing things wrong…

But, judging by the absolutely toe-curling noises his companion was making, he could assume he was doing a fairly good job.

Go team Ominis, woohoo!

His nose nudged her clit, and her thighs closed around his head once more.

He hummed, hoping she'd feel the vibrations.

Her hands moved to rest atop his head through the fabric of her skirt, pressing him further in.

He then proceeded to make the most obscene slurping sound, mouthing wetly into her tight hole, massaging her thighs with his hands, and by god was he enjoying it.

She tasted so bloody good. The smell of her natural musk, mixed with the lovely little sounds she made, made Ominis' head go a bit fuzzy, and he shamelessly reached down to palm himself through his trousers and groan.

The skirt had once again been removed from his head and bunched up by her hips, and she gripped his hair tightly, making the blind man gasp and quicken his process.

"Oh, Ominis!" She squealed, gasping and breathless.

Ominis brought his free hand upward and rubbed rough circles into her clit with his thumb, spurred on by the way she said her name, committing it to memory.

These noises will definitely be on his mind on lonely nights.

Ominis felt her clench around his tongue, and suddenly everything was a little bit more moist, and he knew he'd succeeded in making her come. He felt it dribble down his chin and he licked his lips, finally breaking away and sitting back on his knees.

"What a mess," he stated, wiping his chin with the back of his hand.

"Your fault," the lady grumbled, chucking the skirt carelessly back over her legs, hiding his dripping hole.

"Mmm, perhaps," he hummed thoughtfully, getting to his feet. His erection was still present, but he'd deal with that later. Now was the time to be a gentleman. "But I gather you enjoyed it?"

"Mmm, perhaps," she mirrored him, and he could practically hear her smile in her voice as he offered her a hand to help her down off the table. She stumbled and he caught her, assuming her legs were still a bit shaky, and he couldn't help the well of pride he felt for that;

He did that.

"Ominis, you didn't finish."

"I'll live."

"Not after I'm done with you."

The bloody woman had the gall to slap his arse with all her might, making him jerk forward with a gasp.

He didn't doubt her for a second.

#ominis gaunt #ominis x reader #hogwarts legacy #smut

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anachronisticmech · 1 year ago

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Book omens my beloved!

[ID: Two busts of Crowley and aziraphale with information next to them. Crowley is a skinny, brown person. Her eyes are yellow and red. His tongue is sticking out, long and like a snakes. Her hair starts off black but goes a dark reddish pink a bit down. He wears circular shades, that have an extra glasses where a third eye would be. She wears black fishnet top under a purple and yellow striped button up shirt which is unbuttoned enough to see her cleavage under a ripped grey jacket. He has pointed ears and lots of piercings. She wears an anarchist symbol earring. Next to him is he/she + neos, the intersex, genderqueer, aromantic, asexual and lesbian flags. There are notes saying 1) cripple punk and anarchist, 2) autistic, adhd, cfs, fibro and hEDS, 3) cane and crutches user, 4) style and taste is a mix of rock, punk and disco, 5) most androgynous demon you will ever meet (maybe behind beelzebub). Aziraphale is a fat, black person with vitiligo. His eyes are brown and blue, and he has a tooth gap. Her hair is mainly a light, dusty blonde, with some pure white parts, and it styled in a loose Afro that goes down to her neck. She has sound proofing headphones, a feeding/ng tube, and semicircle glasses. He wears a light brown jacket over a blue waistcoat, over a pink tie and white button up shirt. Next to her is he/she/they, and the intersex, nonbinary, aromantic, asexual, and lesbian flags. There are notes saying 1) feeding/ng tube, rollator and cane user, 2) keeps books in rollator storage, 3) autistic, ocd, fibro, hEDS, crohns, 4) dresses almost posh, very well put together, 5) listens to classical music though doesn’t mind quieter modern music, 6) most androgynous Angel you will ever meet, 7) stims a lot and has a book special interest. ID END.]

#good omens #book omens #good omens book #aziraphale #crowley #azicrow #ineffable wives #ineffable husbands #ineffable spouses #good omens fanart #bat lover art

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yesihaveaobsession · 9 months ago

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*A HAZBIN HOTEL AND SUPERNATURAL CROSSOVER*

Characters: Sam, Dean, You, Alastor (Charlie and others mentioned)

A/N: ❗️Supernatural Spoiler if you haven't seen Season 5 ❗️ (there is one reference from an episode from this season but it’s not major) ALSO Dean and Alastor are two of my favorites and they are so hot so why not write something like this!! Enjoy (: -

Summary: After trying to fight Gabriel, he sends you and the Winchesters to a hell that you aren’t familiar with. Finding the hotel, you and the two brothers decided to check it out. Only that your eyes seem to be for a certain radio demon, and the demon loves making Dean jealous.

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You were in the middle of a battle with the archangel Gabriel. It wasn’t going well; you were thrown across the room and your back hit the wall. Dean had Gabriel in a chokehold himself. Sam was struggling to get up after the cut on his leg. Suddenly with a blink in an eye Gabriel snapped his fingers and a blinding flash, the Winchesters and you, their steadfast ally, were torn from the battlefield and thrust into an entirely different realm.

You found yourselves in what you believed was hell. But it was way different. There was no Crowley, what the hell? The three of you saw these things. They weren’t human, running from something. The two brothers and you shared confused looks.

"What the hell just happened?" Dean exclaimed, his eyes darting around as he instinctively reached for his weapon. You sighed. “Gabriel snapped us somewhere just like-” You began but Sam interrupted.

“I am not doing that game show again.” Sam grumbled.

“I guess we should look around, maybe something will get us back home.” You said and the two brothers nodded, and you led the way through the horrid streets of this version of hell.

The three of you stopped in front of a fairly large hotel. It was a very nice hotel to say the least. As the three of you walked into the hotel, a fairly tall blonde girl walked over to them with a bubbly personality. “Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel!” She stepped back and the three of you looked in and around the room. There was a pink spider, a part cat and part bird at the bar. You three just gave each other confused looks.

“Come on in! We have plenty of room!” The girl said. As she followed the two tall men and the girl further in the room. She had introduced her as Charlie Morningstar, the daughter of Lucifer. Dean and Sam looked at each other. You decided to venture more into the large lobby but suddenly someone appeared in front of you, and you bumped into them.

They were wearing a red striped overcoat and were much taller.

“Sorry.” You said with a slight pink tint to your cheeks, Dean noticed this and glared.

"It's quite alright, my dear," Alastor said with a disarming smile, his voice smooth as silk. He bent down to your level, a gesture both charming and unnerving.

Dean's jaw clenched as he watched the interaction, a flicker of protectiveness crossing his features. His eyes narrowed as he observed the way Alastor seemed to captivate you with his presence. Before any tension could escalate, Sam stepped forward, breaking the momentary spell. "Sorry to interrupt," he said, his voice steady, "But can you tell us where we will be staying?” He slung his bag over his shoulder.

“Who the hell are you?” Dean said.

“Alastor! The Radio Demon, pleasure, quite a pleasure!” Their attention went back to Sam." Ah! I believe I'll be personally giving you the grand tour." Alastor said and his smile widened, and you found yourself blushing again. Dean’s fist clenched. “Perfect” you had replied as you looked into his crimson eyes. Dean cleared his throat and Alastor looked over at Dean and his smile widened.

“Shall we begin our tour?! Follow me.” Alastor replied as he spun on his heels and had his arms behind his back still with his permanent smile. You were smiling ear to ear as you walked next to the radio demon. Dean's scowl deepened at the proximity between you and Alastor. With each step the Radio Demon took towards you, Dean's patience wore thin. Finally, as Alastor closed the distance even further, Dean reached his breaking point. In one swift motion, Dean stepped forward, placing a protective hand on your hip as he positioned himself beside you. Alastor's smile faltered for the briefest of moments as he registered the gesture, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his expression. Alastor soon stopped in his tracks and turned to look at Dean and noticed the hand on your hip.

“I’m sorry, is there a problem? Or could I continue this tour?” Dean's jaw clenched; his gaze unwavering. "Just making sure we're all on the same page," he replied, his voice firm.

Alastor's smile returned, though there was a hint of something else in his eyes. "Of course, dear boy," he said, his tone light. "No need for misunderstandings. After all, hospitality is my specialty."

With a flourish, Alastor gestured for you and the Winchesters to follow him, leading the way through the labyrinthine halls of Hazbin Hotel. But as you walked in his shadow, you couldn't shake the feeling of Dean's protective presence at your side, a silent reassurance amidst the uncertainty of this new and dangerous world.

#alastor x you #hazbin hotel #crossover #dean winchester x you #i have an obsession

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ru5t · 4 months ago

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FIRST IMPRESSIONS MEME A meme for first meetings and introduction threads, or a ‘What you will notice about my muse’ cheat sheet. Copy from template meme: x , don’t reblog.

GENERAL APPEARANCE

Sex: Feminine. Notes: afab and has never encountered a reason not to just go with that, though really she doesn't strongly feel pressed about presenting as any particular gender, like. She's Tech. It's sort of a non-thought? Gender is a performance and she is the show's tech crew.

Race: Caucasian

Complexion: Fair and freckled; holds a little color, but even now she's more likely to freckle further (or even burn) than tan very deeply. Pale girl struggles. (At least she's not as pale as Vi-)

Height: 5'2"

Build Type: Slight. Other / More Details: In terms of physical development, she fell behind in her preteen years for a variety of reasons (but mostly because of interference/side effects) and never caught up or reached her full potential. She's not frail, but she'll never be particularly strong, and she struggles to put on any mass, muscle or otherwise (also for many reasons but mainly because of that interruption in her growing years.)

Hair: Varies a little from a shorter bob (close to her chin) to kind of medium (touching her shoulders) with choppy layers and a slight wave texture Color: Naturally red; it was lighter when she was younger, almost more strawberry blonde, and got darker as she got older, into coppery, rusty shades. I tend to draw it orange because it suits her but I do technically think it has mostly been natural lately, because of her smuggling efforts/fake city identity. Style: She wears it up a lot to get work done, often putting it into a ponytail or sometimes a big jaw clip or with a hair stick. Lots of smaller clips for the many little flyaways. When not working she generally leaves it loose, because having it up for long periods tends to give her a headache or make her head tender

Eye color: Hazel Notes: Often described as curious, sharp, and/or seeing. A little wide-eyed vibes, too, sometimes.

Scars: Quite a lot of little ones, largely work-related (burns and cuts on her arms and hands) and from that whole survival thing. Some more notable ones include: one through her right eyebrow, one on her outer left arm, the Many on her outer left thigh, and the entry and exit wounds on her upper back and chest respectively. It's probably worth noting that before her reeducation she had different scars, including one through her bottom lip, which were 'scrubbed', so anyone who knew her before would probably note she looks different, even if they couldn't exactly place why.

FASHION

Fashion Style: A little tomboyish at times. She's got some clothes purely for functional reasons when dealing with bigger scale projects, and the rest of the time it's very... early thousands punk-y/grunge girl, spiky updos and all Notes: In terms of silhouette, think like Linds.ey Lo.han and her on-screen friends in Freaky Friday - actually kind of just early thousands Lindsey most of the time? Avril La.vigne(!). Early thousands P!nk a little bit. Whichever of those Mary-Kat.e n Ash.l.ey movies is the one where they have this vibe.

Typical Clothing: More fitted tops, t-shirts and tanks, paired with looser bottoms that are usually cargo-pants in spirit if not literal application (pockets!!! a must-have.) Sometimes she has a jacket or secondary loose layer over top, sometimes she does not. It's not usually Noticeable with a capital N I don't think but there is a pattern/fact of her shirts never touching her neck- they either have some kind of dropped collar to begin with or she will alter it. She dabbles in clothing theft, but usually more for sleepwear than every day. Loves a good giant shirt for sleeping.

Color Palette: Maybe like.... orange, green, pink? A dash of teal and yellow? All over the place if we're honest. The more regular note is: stripes. She wears a lot of striped tops in particular- she's owned no less than three different orange striped shirts. Her pants, if only because she likes the cargo style, tend to be the more neutral part of her outfits, ranging around in khaki and dark greens, dark blues, grey- you know. Cargo pants colors. She's owned at least two pair of camouflage colored/patterned pants, one of which she cut into shorts at some point (and the second pair to replace the first lmao)

Jewelry & Piercings: Her ears are double pierced on the lobes; she tends to wear studs in the higher/second set, and likes dangly bright charm earrings in the lower/first set. She had a septum piercing at one point but I don't know if it's still there. She does not and will not wear necklaces (though may occasionally pull her goggles down and leave them there, while she's working. Mostly they go up on her head though.) She likes woven bracelets, and anything clicky-clacky (but not jingle-y) like wood and plastic. She picked up the habit of wearing 'bad luck beads' from a certain someone.

Tattoos: N/A

Other Information: Gloves! Fingerless. Sometimes practical but more often a fashion/cultural thing, the patterned useless kind. Headphones sometimes, and welding goggles of some kind, I haven't settled on a particular style. I'm still not sure I'm committed to the cat ear helmet, but. Potentially there is also the cat ear helmet sometimes (<- which would not be in that color but that is soooo the vibe, the energy, if she does have one)

EXPRESSION

General Facial Expression: Fluid and ever-changing, even when she's otherwise placid. It would be incredibly heart-on-her-sleeve if not for the fact that her expressions and moods don't match the way you'd expect. (In fact, it often counterintuitively serves to obscure what she's thinking; people generally have a hard time reading her expressions (and sometimes body language). More information does not always mean better clarity.)

Default Body Language: Much the same as her expressions, though a little more traditionally matched. Small for scared, fidgety for nervous, tall shoulders for angry. The problem is more that she doesn't really seem to have anywhere to settle. There is no default, only wherever she's at that day.

General Movements: Cautious and guarded. A hand-talker, though she's often known to keep herself strictly contained in unfamiliar settings— she's typically an incredibly high self-monitor, constantly aware of where she is in a space, how much of it she's taking up, if she's in the (apparent) way, how close people are to her, etc. etc. Thus, she gives off this sort of... tightly wound energy. Like she wants to go big, but won't commit. When at work on a project she's very nimble and clever, generally confident, almost a whole different vibe: she's great at tiny fiddly machines and wires.

NOTABLE FOR RP

Presence: In person, usually pretty innocuous. She's colorful yeah but in home setting that's the norm, so she doesn't generally stand out in a crowd. She mostly just wants her own space, but with her wandering expressions and habit of talking to herself and the occasional little tic, some people are put off and/or rude to her. She also... doesn't necessarily Miss social cues, but will fail to initiate them first, or the way people expect. She's just... a bit odd. Has some crazy currency. Over the transmitter she's an absolute menace and regularly antagonistic to anyone who gets on her nerves even a little.

Appearance: Always at least a little wild looking— her hair messy, her clothes crooked. She (accidentally) ends up with tears in the knees of her pants a lot. A little like... you know how people dress after they develop a personal style but before they get it in their head to be self-conscious about being "put-together"? It's kind of like that. There's an energy and a vibe just not necessarily a huge amount of polish — things she likes, rather than outfits she puts together for people to look at. Also, with all her workshopping and tendency to bump her elbows and scrape her knees ... a little bit spicy kitten feral. A dash of mad-scientist. Odd little bug.

Scent: Ignoring the obvious notes to be made about people in apocalyptic-esque settings (although I really think. Personal HC disclaimer or whatever but I think it's not that bad, broadly speaking. No-showers georg probably exists but... there is a city actively manufacturing things, and a thriving smuggling scene, and an entire trade system, and sort of prairie-culture more than apocalypse wasteland, you know? it's more about conserving the safe water than not having the access to the necessities, I think. Dry alternatives are probably popular. ANYWAY-) I think anything else noticeable might be... a little bit of a (good) cat-smell, because of how much time she spends with Glitch+how often he's sitting standing or laying on her.

Voice Description: Honestly I have never had a particular association other than knowing she talks fast.

Accent: (This was presented as a "yes/no" question and I am here to say: Everyone Has An Accent.) More information: There's a kind of... zones accent? That isn't formally plotted out but just sort of developed as we were writing. It involves lots of dropped consonants + some Spanish influence and rapid-fire sentences ft. all that slang. To me it's always seemed almost... American South in terms of vibe? But that might be a biased take on it. I don't know that it necessarily sounds that way, like with the same vowel placements, but it reads that way to me.

Speech Mannerisms: Sort of wobbles between some natural leanings and just a little bit of putting-on — she tends to exaggerate her 'zone accent' a little bit when she's feeling either superior or inferior or if she's just trying to make a Point of something. Naturally a chatterbox, though it might take her a bit to warm up (and sometimes she also goes entirely nonverbal). Time alone during years she should have been expanding her social skills led to her talking to herself out loud a lot, and sometimes she forgets people like to be able to respond. If she gets snapped at or fussed at specifically for talking a lot/too much she's incredibly likely to A) snap back and then B) become a lot more stiff and/or outright refuse to speak with a person anymore. Practices being brave about things she doesn't want to say by saying them AllinOneBreathWithNoSpaceAndVeryVeryQuickly

Anything else to add? People who think they have her figured out off a first impression and go on to try and predict and/or direct her behavior typically set off several alarms for her, and always fuck it up one way or another. This is largely lefftover from the way her mother treated her. I know what specifically sets it off, and how to avoid it but don't like to announce it because then people. try to Outwit it. and it annoys me.

#c:\\work>dir t:\ hc-abt* //.src:trst .stdy/#c:\\work>dir rc:\ dsh.gm* //.uqz .cpy:pst/#so much information. so much left out.#i have said this in other spaces in the past but one of her prevailing things is like. walking contradiction.#she's shy and nervous --- she's a loudmouth with temper issues #she's clever and social --- she's easily confused and hates crowds #don't leave her alone. don't pin her down. don't tell her what to do. don't make her guess.#rattles her #Thoughts.

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thegrandlinesimp · 2 years ago

Text

Pre time skip! Before Kid’s 21st.

Also I was looking up wax play candles and that's how I came across the one described in this chapter.

Yes, it exists.

Warnings: wax/pain play, paddling, blindfolding

Kid was no stranger to pain, he craved it in a way, not in the form of beatings from when he was a child or a kick in the nuts when he said the wrong thing to a barmaid with massive tits, but in the way only Killer knew how to give him. The sort that made his skin tingle from each strike, whether it was with a paddle, whip or Killer’s palm, the burning ache from the angry red lines left behind by rope, and the harsh tugs Killer gave his hair as he was pounded from behind.

So whenever he heard of a new kind of pain, one that didn’t involve anything drastic like needles, knife wounds or branding - things that Killer apparently liked the idea of but hated to inflict on the man he loved - Kid’s interest was piqued.

It was the first thing he and Killer usually did when arriving on a new island along the grandline, was find the nearest sex shop. A lot of the time the little villages didn’t have one, but the sprawling cities usually had a few. The amount of toys under the bed were steadily growing much to his delight, but he always wanted to grab new things, try new things.

They were also places where no one raised an eyebrow at the two of them, hell, they’d picked up a few gay guys at the shops for a fun night, even. Kid’s favourite one was from a older drag queen who approached him with a massive dildo as thick as his arm and said “I’d like someone to try my new purchase out on me, are you feeling lucky, young man?”

Kid’s reply of “only if you’ll take a threesome” as Killer approached them earned him a sparkle in the feminine man’s eyes and a grin as leachous as his own.

Yeah, sex shops were great, they were places of discovery and free of any inhibitions, a place where he felt comfortable giving even the slightest hint he loved to bottom, to submit to another man.

It was also - according to this particular shop - a place that stocked candles…

At first he thought they were for romantic lighting, isn’t that what candles are for when paired with sex? He picked up a large, bright pink one and sniffed it. It smelled like normal wax, none of that fancy, flowery shit. So maybe not for nice smells? He’d heard some scents acted like mild aphrodisiacs or something, this clearly wasn’t for that though. He walked alongside the shelf, curiously inspecting the candles. There was a pack of five thin ones, all different colours, ones as thick as his wrist, plain looking ones, and-

He snorted, biting his lip and clapping a hand over his mouth, struggling not to laugh. Last time he’d cackled in one of these shops he’d been kicked out.

The thing he was sniggering at? A rainbow striped candle roughly twice the length of his palm, in the perfect shape of a dick, balls included and the wick sticking out the slit of the cockhead.

Oh god, he needed this one just to laugh at, he wanted to wave it in Killer’s face so the two of them could cackle over it.

Kid quickly made the purchase while the blonde was perusing the selection of paddles, eyeing up one that had the word ‘slut’ indented in it so a mark would be left wherever it struck. The blonde decided to buy it in the end, after a little rubbing from Kid.

“We can try yours while we try mine,” he said with a grin.

“Oh?” Killer reached for Kid’s paper-bag clearly curious as he rarely bought anything without showing the blonde first, but it was briskly snatched away.

“Ah, ah,” he wagged a finger and smirked, “it’s a surprise.”

That night at the dinner table, he watched with silent amusement as the blonde wolfed down his pasta so fast he started to hiccup.

***

“Boom!” Kid shouted, tossing the thick, dick shaped candle onto the bed, “Now tell me that isn’t the dumbest thing y-“

“Oh, wax play!”

He paused, watching with great confusion as - instead of wheezing like he expected him to - Killer picked up the ‘candle’ and began to inspect it. He ran a thumb over a long bump Kid assumed was meant to be a very prominent vein.

Though the blonde did at least chuckle, “Trust you to get a rainbow dick one though.”

“Wax…wax play?” Kid muttered more to himself than to Killer.

The older man shivered, sucking in a sharp breath the way he did whenever his partner got curious about trying something new in the bedroom. Kid knew all too well Killer had some kind of virgin kink, though it only seemed to extend to him for some off reason, and reminding the blonde that he was Kid’s first in everything but kissing never failed to rile him up to near feral levels. Blue eyes glanced down at the candle, then back up at him, now filled with that dark hunger that made it Kid’s turn to shiver.

“It’s when you drip hot wax onto someone’s body,” Killer explained, “though this is from a sex shop, so I assume the wax won’t get hot enough to leave burn marks that’ll scar.”

“Will it still hurt though?” Kid asked, feeling that familiar tight heat begin coil in his gut.

“Oh, definitely.”

The young captain swallowed, cock beginning to swell with in the confines of his pants as he shifted where he stood.

One corner of those purple painted lips curved up ever so slightly, “Do you want to try?”

Kid immediately started stripping, throwing his coat across the room and kicking his boots off.

“Get the cuffs and blindfold out.”

He bit his lip, swallowing a needy sound, loving the way Killer’s voice dipped slightly, becoming that much firmer whenever he gave an order in the bedroom. Boxers still on, he kicked away his pants and dropped to his knees, pulling out the toy box from under the bed. His cheeks began to hurt from the giddy grin on his face as he fished out the requested items, the chain of the handcuffs rattling and making his heart stutter.

“Such a good, obedient boy,” Kid’s breath hitched at the slow, lustful drawl of Killer’s voice.

He looked back up at the blonde, cock swelling to full mast at the sight of him undoing the last of his shirt buttons, the button up now handing loosely from his elbows to reveal those thick biceps that could crush a man’s skull, or easily pin Kid to the bed.

Killer’s smirk widened, eyes darting to the railing of the bed’s headboard, “On your back, and cuff yourself.”

Fuck.

Kid knew this one, he cuffed one wrist first before laying back on bed, raising both arms he threaded the other half behind a rail. Using the cuffed hand to keep the device steady, he slid his free wrist into past the single strand and rested it against the double strand of the cuffs. He pushed single strand against the neighbouring rail, forcing it closed around his wrist. Thanks to his magnetic abilities, he was never truly trapped in the cuffs, and Killer was well aware of that too. It was almost calming for Kid, his wrists bound, surrounded by metal yet always having the option to break free with one outward pulse of his power.

Kid looked at Killer and grinned, feeling rather pleased with himself. There was that smile on Killer’s face, the one the older man hated to show the world, spread wide with sadistic delight as his eyes roved the redhead’s near naked body, his own still fully clothed save for his unbuttoned shirt that he’d shifted back into his shoulders.

“Someone’s eager,” he said with a dark chuckle, one that never failed to make Kid’s length throb with fearful excitement.

Killer crawled across the bed to straddle his lap, licking his lips as he eyed the pale expanse of the young captain’s torso. He picked up the discarded blindfold, twirling it around his index finger as he smirked down at Kid.

“Comfortable?”

Kid shifted a bit, letting his shoulders relax, knowing all too well they’d be aching in the end no matter the position he was in. But after all was said and done, Killer always soothed those deep aches, taking him into the shower - even if he had to carry the redhead - and ending the night with Kid swaddled in the warm embrace of Killer’s arms. Before that though, was the clawing climb to euphoria, the bliss filled journey to completion, riddled with pain and pleasure that twisted and melded into ecstasy.

An achy, stiff shoulder or two was more than worth it.

“‘M good,” his voice shook in a mixture of nerves and excitement.

Gentle fingers brushed scarlet locks from his forehead, “Good boy. Safeword?”

That made Kid want to roll his eyes, but it was always something the other man insisted on, especially whenever they did something new and even the tiniest bit dangerous, “Marine.”

“And what do you say when I ask for a colour?”

This time he sighed, giving a little rock of his hips to rub his cock up against the inside of his boxers to relieve some of the pressure, “Green to keep going, yellow for a breather and red to stop.”

Killer leaned down, a soft smile on his purple painted lips as they brushed against Kid’s crimson ones, “Perfect.”

Kid shivered as the blindfold was placed over his eyes, the elastic band pulled over his head and flattening some of his wild hair down. He flinched slightly, breath hitching at the unfamiliar sound of a match being lit in the otherwise silent room. The blindfold was quite thick, meaning he didn’t know where Killer put the candle, only knowing it had been lit by the sound of the match being blown out. A faint sensation of nerves began to coil in his gut, body quivering in anticipation and a grin spreading across his face.

There was a soft thump of the candle being placed on the bedside table and warm, calloused hands came to rest on his waist. Kid hummed, lifting his hips, expecting his boxers to be pulled off.

Killer chuckled, most likely amused at his eagerness, “Not yet, just a little worried about any hot wax hitting your bare skin there.”

He lowered his hips and pouted, but said nothing, the reasoning sound enough to not warrant a lash of his bratty tongue. Instead, he concentrated on the feeling of those familiar hands caressing his body, mapping out the muscles of his abdomen before slowly making their way to his chest. Fingers pinched quick and tight on his nipples making Kid hiss, head sinking back into the pillow as he arched towards those calloused hands. Killer rolled the sensitive nubs between his fingers and his cock throbbed, hips bucking up against the blonde’s crotch, the heavy bulge in his boxers rubbing against the growing one in Killer’s pants.

“Fuck,” Kid sighed as the man let go, leaving a stinging ache behind, hands running back down his body, skin tingling in their wake.

“Colour?”

“Bright fucking green,” he said with a smirk.

“Good boy,” Killer purred, leaning down to press a soft kiss to his collarbone, “gonna just test the wax, I’ll put some on my finger and rub it in your skin, see how it feels.”

“‘Kay,” he bit his lip and shivered, tensing slightly at the prospect of what was to come.

There was a grunt from the other man, followed by a huff, “Oh yeah, it’s hot alright.”

His body trembled with excitement, relaxing on habit, knowing the pain wouldn’t be as intense if he did but also knowing Killer was being cautious. If he didn’t show any sign of pain at first then he’d be treated rougher, just how he wanted.

A wax covered fingertip traced under his right pec, heat blossomed across his skin, nothing like a strong slap or the harsh ache of rope. He gave a stuttered gasp, cock throbbing at the foreign sensation.

“Green,” he managed to huff out, already knowing what Killer was going to say.

Though that earned him a harsh tug of his hair, the feeling rolling down his spine and making him groan.

“You speak when you’re spoken to,” the blonde growled, breath hot on his face.

If he leaned up he could kiss his partner.

Instead, he took the option that he knew would get more hot wax on his body; he ducked his head so his chin touched his collarbone and hunched his shoulders as best as he could, “Sorry, sir,” Kid all but purred.

He heard Killer suck in a sharp breath, those finger tightened in his hair as the older man shivered on his lap, “Such a tease.”

Without warning a thin line of wax was dripped across his torso, the warm, sharp pain making him cry out as he bucked beneath the blonde. His head rolled to the side as he panted, light beads of sweat already forming on his forehead.

“For that, you’re either going to come from the wax,” there was a powerful slap on his stomach, and Kid yelped, precome leaking out his cock and staining his boxers from the delightful sting, “or the paddle.”

As much as Kid loved the night, the next morning he had to wear a shirt, blushing when Wire asked about the wardrobe change. He silently ate breakfast while Killer sat next to him, using an index finger to continuously write the word ‘slut’ on his thigh under the table.

They ended up in a wrestle for dominance that night, one he lost the moment Killer pulled his hair and whispered filthy promises in his ear.

The candle was - of course - bought out again.

#one piece #spicy #eustass kidd #eustass kid #eustass captain kid #massacre soldier killer #killer op #line’s self indulgent otp kinktober #otp #KidKiller #kid/killer #kid x killer

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dontfeeltoohot · 2 years ago

Note

Here to copy/paste the thought I texted you about 🤣 ~ KB

So y’know how like sometimes for tv shows or movies like actors will have to pretend to be sick or pretend to sneeze or whatever

Jamie’s doing a scene where he has to fake it. But JQ is acting opposite him and is actually sick and keeps fucking up the takes. And it’s like he’s gotta pretend to be well

Idk something about the star difference of JQ tryna keep his shot together while Jamie’s pretending to be sick and the the directors like “CUT” and they both immediately switch

“Christ, Joe,” Jamie frowns as the other man gives what can only be described as a miserably sick sounding sniffle. “Where’d you pick this bug up?”

“I don’t-snf! don’t kndow,” the younger man swipes at his nose, scrunching it up in the process.

“The irony of me being sick in the scene we’re shooting today,” the blonde tuts, pressing a large handed palm to the curly haired man’s just barely pink cheeks.

They’ve been filming all week for their upcoming movie. Cliche as it was, when Jamie’d heard his best friend was auditioning, well…he might have sent in a tape to the casting director. Three months later both he and Joe were getting calls that they’d nabbed the roles- lovers facing the harsh realities of being out in the 1990’s. It’s a smaller film made by a smaller crew, but they’re all banking on it heading to Sundance due to the theme.

The scene they’re filming today has Jamie in bed, ill and miserable while Joe takes care of him. The older of the two wishes it were the other way around, what with Joe looking like he could play his role perfectly. Both heading into hair and makeup, he can’t help but nod along when a few of the artists comment on how sick the man looks.

“I’m okay, really,” he assures, and Jamie snorts quietly from the other end of the long table.

“That’s why you sound like you’ve been yelling for hours and like you can’t breathe, of course, how silly of us.”

“It’s really n-not thahht bad,” Joe sniffles wetly, and Jamie can already see the crease between his eyebrows drawing, can see the man’s eyes start to flutter as he brings his hand up to his mouth and nose. “hh’IKTSHiew!”

“Bless y-“

“H’aeTSCHiew!”

“-ou.”

“snfsNF! Ugh, sorry, thank you love,” Joe directs towards his makeup artist for the day, Megan, as he drops his hand.

Jamie bites his lip and refrains from mother hen-ing Joseph about how he should sneeze into his arm or his shirt or something other than his hand. Instead, he tilts his face for better access, Lauren starting to work on making him appear paler.

It doesn’t take too terribly long for them to get on set and placed where they should be in the bedroom. Jamie’s in a matching set of striped red pajamas, a soft blue blanket draped around his shoulders. Joe’s in a white polo and black, unbuttoned, heavyweight shirt and jeans. He knows the other man wishes they could swap. Jamie lays against the bed, trying to get in the mindset of someone ill, trying to force himself to believe his throat’s sore, that his face feels too warm bc his body feels too cold.

Joseph is talking to Bryan, their director, coughing and sniffling the entire time. Jamie watches, knowing that soon he really will be coming down with something too. There’s no way to avoid the germs when they’re supposed to be cuddling and kissing. If Joe’s voice is too obvious, even with the meds and tea he’s been downing all morning, maybe they’ll wait a day or two.

The first three takes are mostly used for different blocking, camera angles and suggestions mostly towards Jamie about seeming a little more pouty. He cringes inwardly, always one to find pouty sick people annoying. They start up again.

“Darling, do we have more tea?” Jamie calls out, altering his voice well enough it sounds congested and like his throat’s sore. Joe pops his head into the room, leaning against the door frame.

“You’ve already finished your first?”

Jamie nods and lays his puppy dog face on thick. He goes to cough, but the other man beats him to it, letting out a shallow, barking cough that most of the crew winces at. Jamie itches to rub his back and whisper that he’ll be ok.

The next take, they get through seven seconds before Joe’s sneezing, trying to muffle it as best he can. Another take. Another cut. The cycle repeats itself, until they finally get further and further along.

“But I need you to warm me up, a blanket isn’t enough,” Jamie pouts, tugging on Joe’s shirt.

Joe chuckles, and the elder can see his eyes are bright with fever.

“Oh, well if you insist. You’re lucky you’re so charming when you’re so full of cold, or I’d be running for it,” Joe lays back and brings Jamie into his arms, while the taller of the two fake coughs into his arm, sniffling after. They kiss, and Jamie can feel the curly haired man’s nose twitch.

They’re almost done when Joe, who’s been fighting off an obvious fit, can’t tamper it down any further, and he presses his hands to his face. Jamie raises ever so slightly as Joe’s chest expands with air, then moves so he’s not completely against him.

“HIkSH’ew! EhhITSCHiew! snfsnf! ihiYKSh’uhew! aiGKTSch’EW!”

“Bless you,” Jamie murmurs, looking at the man worriedly.

“Cut! Okay, let’s take a few minutes to regroup…”

#my fic #jq #jcb #soft little thing

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headcanonsandmore · 2 years ago

Text

‘Once and Future’, Chapter Four

Summary: It turns out, quests to rescue sorcerers from magical forests tend to involve semi-sentient trees. And that's not even counting the death-defying feats and major battles with villainous foes. At the end of all this, maybe Tegan had finally just get to flirt with Nyssa without the constant threat of danger around them? Read on, dear readers, and find out...

Tagging: @squirius @serenbex and @lonely-space-ace

~~~~~~~~~ Read on FFN. Read on AO3.

~~~~~~~~~

Tegan’s eyes boggled. They were charging along a vast vortex of rainbows. Tegan could dimly hear the sounds of Dynadan’s horse just behind them. The three of them seemed to have escaped their pursuers, but… where had they escaped to?

All around, Tegan could hear a great clanking of ancient chains, mixed with some sort of moan. It sounded otherworldly, and Tegan could not begin to understand how on earth such sounds could be made.

The vortex around them shimmered and…

Tegan’s mouth dropped open.

Along the side of the vortex was… some sort of mirror? But this was not a normal mirror. There was an image of her, stood outside a… a blue box? And Nyssa was there as well, hand-in-hand with Tegan. But the clothes they both wore were strange. Tegan was wearing some sort of… pale pink uniform, while Nyssa was wearing a mixture of trousers and tunic, both in a deep burgundy colour. Nyssa’s hair was long and bushy, with no covering to speak of.

Beside them stood a figure who looked vaguely like the physician Quinque, but he was wearing a strange sort of tunic over a type of woollen garment, with strange striped trousers and… white shoes of some description? A strange brimmed hand was atop his short blonde hair.

As if through a waterfall, Tegan could hear her own voice.

Doc, this doesn’t look much like Heathrow to me…

The Nyssa stood next to Tegan giggled, squeezing their hand.

The Tegan in the image locked eyes with Tegan, and their mouth opened in shock.

That’s me!

Ah, said the version of Quinque. Pocket dimension, I believe…

Oh, look, Tegan; I’m there as well…

The version of Tegan seemed to flush slightly, and they looked down at the hand intertwined with that of the version of Nyssa.

The image faded.

‘Nyssa...’ Tegan gasped, her voice sounding ethereal. ‘Did… did you see that?’

‘Yes,’ Nyssa replied, from just behind him, arms wrapped around Tegan’s waist. ‘Although I do not understand what it meant.’

The rainbow vortex began to dissipate, and the hooves of Tegan’s horse touched onto a hard surface. The clanking of the ancient chains slowly ceased, and Tegan’s ears popped.

Gasping, she slowly pulled on the reins. She could hear Nyssa letting out deep breaths behind her.

The horse slowly came to a stop. They were… where were they?

The ground beneath them was… well, it seemed to have small clouds rolling over it. Not exactly mist, they were too light for that. The very surface of the ground seemed to shine with golden light. Their cloaks floated around them, as if a light wind was blowing.

In the distance, castles stood on hilltops, with great domes. Above, the sky was a dark red as opposed to the normal blue. And, within the sky, were several moons. It was… it was…

‘An… Otherworld?’

Nyssa gave a soft moan behind Tegan, and Tegan reached down, slipping her own hand into Nyssa’s.

‘You okay?’

‘I think so,’ Nyssa replied, very quietly. ‘Are you?’

Tegan shrugged.

‘I suppose,’ they mumbled.

The sound of slowing hooves nearby alerted them to Dynadan’s presence.

‘Distance works differently in Otherworlds,’ the knight said. ‘A few hundred feet here could be a hundred leagues in our reality. I think this is why Lady Fay gifted us this; to help when the route was blocked in our own reality.’

‘So… how do we get out?’ Tegan asked, still clutching Nyssa’s hand. ‘And where will we end up when we do get out?’

‘Let’s work this out…’ Dynadan began to size up the hoofprints of the horses, which were still imprinted on the ground behind them. ‘Ten hoofprints should be about ten leagues in our world so…’

The knight pondered for a moment.

‘Nyssa, if you would be so good as to work the amulet again, we can begin making tracks.’

Nyssa nodded, removing her hand almost reluctantly from Tegan’s. The amulet made the noise once again. Tegan could already hear the sounds of the ancient chains, growing louder and louder.

The vortex once again swallowed them up.

‘So… that was lucky.’

Brocéliande lay before them, stretching out from east to west for as far as the eye could see. The moon and stars were both out, giving a small amount of light, although Tegan already found their eyes adjusting to it once again. The rainbow vortex had deposited them barely a few hundred feet of the forest edge, in a small bit of open clearing that separated the forest from the cliffs behind them. Tegan could hear the waves of the channel and felt the icy wind coming off the sea, despite the heat that she would have expected on a summer night. Light barely seemed to penetrate the forest, and Tegan could only make out a few yards under the trees. Beyond that, darkness lay.

Without thinking, Tegan slipped her hand into Nyssa’s. The young woman squeezed softly.

‘Very lucky,’ Dynadan said. ‘I think the amulet may have been designed by Lady Fay to help us travel as quickly as possible.’

‘That’s good,’ Nyssa said, softly. ‘Although-good grief!’

There was the smell of burning and then a small poof of smoke.

‘It vanished!’ Nyssa gasped. ‘Gone!’

Dynadan sighed.

‘I suppose we’re on our own from this point onwards. Lady Fay presumably didn’t have enough magic for it to be used repeatedly.’

The forest loomed above, suddenly even more daunting that it had seemed just a few moment before.

‘Ready?’

Tegan squeezed Nyssa’s hand, and nodded, before climbing down off the horse. She then threw their pack onto her back, and helped Nyssa climb off.

‘Merlin will likely be in the very heart of the forest,’ Dynadan mused, as the three of them tied the horses to an isolated tree at the edge of the tree line. ‘That means we will have to go through the densest parts before reaching our goal. I will do my best to plot a path through the trees, but we may end up separated. If that happens, keep pushing forwards in as best a straight line as you can. With a bit of luck, we should all be able to find each other in the centre.’

Tegan and Nyssa nodded, drawing their cloaks around them.

The forest was as dark as Tegan had expected, but there was just enough light to see a few yards in front. Dynadan pushed ahead, with Tegan bringing up the rear. She kept her hand on her sword, and her eyes darting around. Nyssa walked in the space between the other two, not saying a word.

The trees began to get more and more compact, forcing Dynadan to take a more winding route. The knight did have his sword, but Tegan couldn’t blame him for not wanting to carve a path through the ancient woodland; the trees did not seem like normal trees. They felt… well, almost alive. In the near-darkness, Tegan could almost imagine them staring down at the tree interlopers into this world of brown and green.

Eventually, Dynadan came to a stop in front of a large row of thick bushes. They seemed to stretch in both directions for as far as Tegan could see. There was no way around them. The forest was horribly quiet, and Tegan pulled her cloak closer around her, her hand on Caliburn.

Dynadan turned, nodded at them both, and took out a short sword from his belt. He did not raise it to the bushes, but began to push his way into the bushes. Nyssa and Tegan followed.

The bushes were not easy to push through; twigs snagged and snapped on Tegan’s cloak, and their face was buffeted by larger branches, leaving cuts on her skin. Grimly, she pushed forward, concentrating on following Nyssa, who was pushing ahead barely a foot in front of her. The branches seemed to grow back as soon as Nyssa managed to push through one section, meaning Tegan had to keep pushing with as much force.

Finally, Nyssa burst forth of the last layer of bushes, and Tegan stumbled out after her, emerging into a clearing. Brushing stray bits of twig from her cloak, and already feeling the pain of the cuts to her skin, Tegan focused on the young woman. Nyssa was in much the same state, although she seemed to have used Pridwen to push back the branches and therefore avoiding the amount of cuts Tegan had received.

‘Where’s Dynadan gone?’

Tegan and Nyssa looked around. The knight had completely disappeared.

‘He was just in front of me going through those bushes,’ Nyssa said, eyes widening in alarm. ‘I could have sworn I heard his footsteps ahead of me barely a minute ago.’

Without thinking, Tegan and Nyssa stepped closer to each other, back to back, weapons at the ready. The forest, silent as ever, seemed to stir almost imperceptibly.

‘Tegan?’

‘Y-yeah?’

‘I’m… scared.’

‘Me too.’

‘That’s good; I was worried I was being irrational.’

‘Not at all. It makes sense to be scared here. We just have to keep going despite being scared.’

‘Agreed.’

Their free hands still intertwined, they set off in the direction that Dynadan had suggested.

It was mostly flat, although there were many old tree trunks that they had to climb over. The forest was old, impossibly old. Barely any light reached its floor, and the ground beneath Tegan’s boots was filled with the compost of decaying leaves. There was even a couple things that crunched under her feet with a very guttural sound, but she revolved not to look down, for fear of what she might see.

She was glad of the cloak, as it did protect them from the branches that would have pulled at her skin and clothing otherwise. This forest had clearly not had humans under its trees for a very long time. Maybe it never had.

Tegan and Nyssa pulled back one final branch, and emerged into a clearing of sorts. It wasn’t much lighter than anywhere else around it, but a smattering of light had managed to reach down through the trees. Several upturned tree trunks were languishing on their sides, moss covering their once mighty bark.

There was the tinkle of a small stream running through it. Tegan was just about to suggest they continue on, when Nyssa pulled at her cloak.

‘What?’ Tegan whispered, turning to her.

‘Listen…’ Nyssa whispered. ‘The water… it’s speaking…’

Tegan turned, and cocked an ear towards the water.

Help… help me…

Tegan knew in their heart the person whose voice that was. She couldn’t really explain why, she just knew.

‘That’s…’

‘Yes,’ Nyssa whispered. ‘Merlin. We must be close.’

They followed the stream through the clearing, and found that the trees tended to be less clustered along its banks than anywhere else. Taking care not to step into the water, Tegan and Nyssa continued along beside it. All the while, they could hear the voice of Merlin growing almost imperceptibly louder.

The stream began to dip down a slope, and Tegan had to help Nyssa across the tree roots.

‘Thank you,’ Nyssa said. ‘These trousers do make it a bit easier to move.’

‘Agreed,’ Tegan said, squeezing her hand. ‘I’ll get you another pair after we get back to Camelot.’

Nyssa smiled.

The slope began to even out. Tegan guessed that they had likely entered a small valley of some kind, perhaps the remains of a lake that had once been here. A strange wind seemed to blow, almost as if it was trying to repel them. And, at the very end of the valley stood-

Nyssa let out a gasp.

A very old tree stood before them. Except… it wasn’t so much a tree as the blasted remains of a tree. Huge roots webbed down the side of the hill, wrapping through earth and grass, covered in moss in many places. It seemed almost… unearthly.

A figure was encased in the roots of the tree. They were tall, pale and very tall. Long, white hair had grown haphazardly down to their shoulders. A long, crooked nose stuck out, as if bent in several key places. The roots of the tree wrapped around their arms, legs and torso, with one particularly thick roots wrapping around their neck. The persons eyes were closed, and Tegan could hear a soft rumble emanating of the roots.

As if they were chains being violently shook.

‘Excuse me,’ Nyssa said, stepping forward slightly, hand still intertwined with Tegan’s. A discarded staff was lying against the tree. ‘Are you… Merlin?’

The figure opened their eyes. Tegan’s breath froze in their throat. The pupils were pale white.

‘I am Merlin,’ the figure said. ‘I… I take it that you are my rescuers?’

‘Er, yeah,’ Tegan replied, stepping up to stand beside Nyssa. ‘Our names are-’

‘The wielders of Excalibur and Pridwen,’ interjected Merlin. ‘Tegan and Nyssa. You took your bloody time, didn’t you.’

‘Oy!’ Tegan exclaimed. ‘Rude! How did you know-’

‘I am Merlin,’ the figure said, chuckling slightly. ‘I’m not completely powerless, even here.’

‘So… the roots are just fancy decoration, are they?’ Tegan said, sarcastically. ‘Enjoying your time off?’

Merlin glared at Tegan.

‘Generally speaking, I don’t normally call people to me,’ they said, tone dripping with irritation. ‘But I could see that you two needed a push in the right direction. This forest can play tricks with people’s minds; I know that better than most.’

‘How did you end up trapped anyway?’ Nyssa asked, as an attempt to placate the sorcerer. ‘The magic must be incredibly powerful.’

‘I trapped myself,’ said Merlin, grimly. ‘The forest uses someone’s magical power against them. It’s… well, it’s a rather embarrassing story.’’

‘Well, we don’t have time for stories,’ Tegan said. ‘We need to get you out of here and back to Camelot. You see, we-’

There was a crash of branches, and Dynadan emerged from the trees. His eyes lit up as he saw Tegan and Nyssa, and hurried towards them.

‘Thank goodness!’ he said, smiling widely. ‘I thought I’d never find you two again! And you’ve found Merlin, even better!’

‘Hello, Dynadan,’ Merlin chuckled. ‘Come to gloat?’

‘Maybe later,’ the knight replied, cheerfully. ‘It is good to see you, old friend. I wished it were under better circumstances.’

‘What are these… tree roots, exactly?’ Nyssa asked, peering at the tendrils. ‘They don’t look naturally occurring to me.’

‘The roots are magical,’ Merlin said, grimly. ‘Why do you think I wasn’t able to free myself?’

‘Well, then why don’t we use a non-magical solution?’ Tegan asked.

Nyssa turned, her mouth widening into a huge smile.

‘Tegan, that’s brilliant!’ she exclaimed. ‘Yes, if magic was what trapped Merlin here, then surely a non-magical solution is the best way to break them free!’

‘Headology, like my old mum used to stay,’ Dynadan said. ‘Someone ought to write a story about that.’

‘Oh, ha ha,’ Merlin said, rolling their eyes as if aware of a joke that Tegan wasn’t familiar with. ‘Can you get me out of here first?’

‘Right…’

Tegan and Nyssa, hands touching, leaned forward and joined Dynadan, pulling at the main root wrapped around Merlin’s torso.

‘C’mon,’ Tegan grunted, feeling her muscles strain against the sheer weight of the ancient knots. ‘Just a bit more…’

There was a flash of light as the root finally gave way.

With the main root gone, Dynadan set to work hacking at the smaller roots around Merlin’s arms and legs. The knight grunted as his sword began to leave large cuts.

‘Now!’ he cried, and Tegan and Nyssa both hurried forward, grabbing the roots and pulling them away from Merlin’s limbs. There was several more flashes of light, and the roots exploded into nothingness.

Merlin awkwardly climbed to their feet, clearly wobbly from so long spent unable to stand. Tegan and Nyssa both grabbed them by the arms, putting the aged sorcerers arms around their shoulders. Gingerly, Merlin wobbled over to the abandoned staff and pulled it upright, using it as a sort of cane.

‘We must get out of the forest now,’ Dynadan said, looking around. ‘I don’t fancy it will make our escape easy, now we have freed its captive.’

‘How long will it take us to return to Camelot?’

‘We don’t have Lady Fay’s gift anymore,’ Nyssa said, eyes wide with worry. ‘It could take weeks- months, even!’

‘Argh!’ Merlin scowled, forehead creased. ‘Camelot is under attack now, I can feel it! We must return faster!’

‘But how?’ Tegan exclaimed. ‘It’s across the sea and most of Britannia, through a ton of unfriendly terrain!’

Merlin thrust up their arms into the air, and opened their mouth.

‘Drakonae!’ They bellowed, speaking with a voice that reverberated through Tegan’s head. ‘Drakonae!’

The words echoed around the clearing, deafening in the silence of the ancient forest. Tegan stared around, worried. What on earth was that supposed to accomplish?

The air above them was suddenly full of the sound of beating winds. For a second, Tegan’s was terrified that the wyrms had found them again. But-

Drakonae.

Drakon.

Dragon.

Tegan’s mouth fell open. Beside her, she could Nyssa gasp in shock, her hand squeezing Tegan’s. Their eyes staring directly upwards, as the branches of the trees above were thrust apart by the huge creatures descending from the sky.

Winged, with enormous tails and bright, clever eyes. The legendary creatures of myth.

Drakonis Nobilis. The noble dragons.

As Tegan’s mouth continued to hang open, four dragons landed before them. The oldest one, seemingly the leader, fixed its gaze on the four tiny figures. The creature’s mouth did not move, but Tegan could hear their voice in her mind.

Merlin, said the dragon. We have missed you, old friend.

‘Likewise,’ Merlin replied, bowing his head. ‘Although I am sorry to call on you like this. We must get to Camelot as fast as possible.’

We will take you.

Percival wiped his brow, leaning against the wall. He and a few other knights had managed to hold one of the towers by the gate, but their communications with the rest of the citadel had broken down.

The night was going badly so far. While they found been able to down several of the initial wyrm attack, many of them had been able to get through and had landed within Camelot itself. The attackers had then headed straight for the citadel, using covering fire to keep the defenders at bay.

Out of the defenders, only Percival himself was still uninjured. All of his fellow knights had already either been taken inside to recover from wounds.

Well, actually, there was one exception. Mr Benton (Percival didn’t know his first name) was still somehow fine, aside from a nasty cut on the side of his head that he had quickly bandaged himself. The young man was made of sterner stuff that Percival had expected. He had turned up with Mike Yates shortly after the attack had started, but had somehow weathered the attacks with a determined earnestness. Yates, meanwhile, had been knocked unconscious by fallen stones about two hours previously, and had been taken inside by Benton, who had triaged his wounds and bandaged the aristocratic man as best he could.

If they all survived this night, Percival had a half mind to take Benton on as a squire; he was a man who certainly held up well under difficult odds.

‘Percival!’

He turned, wearily. Barbara was hurrying up the ramparts. She looked worried but otherwise unhurt. She stopped at the top of the stairs, slightly out of breath. Dynadan hurried towards her.

‘Are the civilians evacuated?’

‘Yes,’ replied the maid, wiping the sweat from her brow. ‘We managed to get them all into the caves. I don’t know how long they’ll be safe for, but we will have to hope.’

Percival nodded.

‘It seems as if the invaders had no interest in attacking the city,’ he mused. ‘They made a beeline for the castle itself, barely even bothering with the civilians.’

‘Is that a good thing?’

‘If it means less people have died, yes. But I worry that it is not out of kindness.’

Barbara looked up at the castle. Several fires were visible from the upper ramparts, but they had no way of knowing whether the defenders were still holding out or not.

‘Percival, is there any hope?’

‘I do not know,’ he said. ‘But we can hope regardless.’

Tegan had to admit, this was certainly an exhilarating way to travel.

The channel beneath them, Tegan could feel the wind whipping through her -his, their- short hair. The air around them was cool for the summer night, but Tegan found herself unable to feel cold. The dragon’s hide was surprisingly warm, and their wings beat fast and energetic a few yards ahead of where Tegan was sat astride their enormous back. Nyssa’s arms were once again wrapped around Tegan’s waist, and she could hear the young woman gasping with amazement as the dragon carrying the two of them barrelled through the sky, their cloaks flapping behind them in the wind.

In front of them, Merlin and Dynadan were being carried by the oldest of the dragons. Merlin’s staff was glowing with light, shining a path ahead. While the coast of Britannia was not visible yet, Tegan was sure that it would only be a matter of time before they cleared the channel and would be flying across land due North-West towards Camelot.

‘Fantastic!’ Tegan exclaimed, mouth wide open with a huge grin. ‘Nyssa, look at the sea below us!’

Nyssa gripped Tegan tighter around the waist.

‘I’d rather not!’ she gasped, over Tegan’s shoulder. ‘I-oooh, no!’

The dragon beat their wings harder, and they rose higher, catching a strong wind and gliding with it, like a bird. Tegan let out an admiring whoop! as they descended down again. Behind her, she could hear Nyssa gasping ‘oh I don’t like it, I really don’t this… oh, dear…’, pressing closer to Tegan as they fell sharply through the air.

‘What’s your name?’ Tegan asked, speaking to the dragon carrying them.

It is unable to pronounce with your mouths, replied the dragon, in Tegan’s mind. Judging from Nyssa’s further gasp, they were speaking in her mind as well. But you may call me Nightbane.

‘Thank you, Nightbane!’

You are most welcome, little ones, replied Nightbane, and Tegan could have sworn she heard fondness within their voice. Are you both warm?

‘Yes,’ said Nyssa. ‘But could you warn us the next time you move around?’

Nightbane seemed to chuckle.

My apologies, replied the noble dragon. Your companion seemed to enjoy it.

‘I do!’ Tegan exclaimed, laughing. ‘But Nyssa is right; we haven’t been carried by a dragon before and we don’t want to fall off by mistake!’

Very wise, Nightbane replied. Your companion has good sense, Tegan of the Cornish.

‘She sure does!’ Tegan grinned, and enjoyed the feeling of Nyssa nuzzling into her shoulder. ‘Oh, look; we’ve embarrassed her!’

‘Stop it!’ Nyssa giggled.

Nightbane chuckled again. Behind her, in the periphery of her vision, Tegan could just about make out the sunrise in the east behind them.

‘We’ve got a long way to go!’ Nyssa said, speaking to Nightbane. ‘Are we going to make it to Camelot in time?’

Us noble dragons have a certain magic of our own, replied Nightbane. We take our inspiration from the stars. You may want to hold on tightly, little ones.

‘What do you-ooohhhhh!’

Nightbane began to beat their wings faster and faster, so much that the sky around them became a blur. Around them, the dragons flying were doing the same.

Tegan grasped the scales of Nightbane’s broad back, and pressed down. The wind became a roar. All other sounds were blocked out, except for the beating of her own heartbeat and the heartbeat of Nyssa, who was pressed tightly against Tegan’s back, her arms wrapped firm around Tegan’s waist.

The roar of the wind grew loader and loader. Tegan didn’t know how fast they were going; instead, Tegan just hoped that they would all reach Camelot in time.

A wyrm soared down from the skies, spitting venom and heading straight for the tower.

‘Incoming!’ Percival exclaimed, pushing Barbara into the relative safety of the tower staircase before running along the ramparts.

‘Working on it, sir!’

Benton was at the catapult, his earnest face gleaming with sweat from the effort of holding the thing steady. It had been partially broken by the initial assault, and was now only partially operational. But that didn’t seem to effect Benton’s aim.

BAM!

The wyrm let out a screech as the load of Greek fire hit it. With a crash of flailing limbs and hissing venom, it landed in the courtyard in a burning wreckage. Percival didn’t know much about wyrms but, judging from what he had seen tonight, they seemed to be constructs of dark magic as opposed to living creatures. That didn’t make him feel much better about killing them, of course. But you weren’t supposed to feel good about it in the first place.

‘Well done, Benton!’ Percival exclaimed.

Benton grinned wearily for a second, before the smile slid off his face.

‘Sir; watch out!’

Percival turned to where Benton was pointing. Another group of wyrms were flying down at them out of the sky. Without thinking, Percival ducked, as the venom began to rain down around them.

‘Take cover!’ he cried, hearing the hiss of dissolving stone where the venom had fallen. ‘Wait for them to get close again and launch more fire!’

‘We’re down to our last three loads, sir,’ Benton said, wiping his brow with a weary arm.

‘Right,’ Percival said, grimly. ‘In that case, I’ll lure them out and you see if you can get them with one load all at once.’

‘Sir, that’s suicide!’

‘I know! But… it’s our only option. It’s been an honour to fight with you, Benton; good luck.’

Percival gave a quick salute, which Benton returned, eyes glistening with tears. Percival nodded, and turned, pulling the sword from his scabbard.

‘Oi!’ he yelled up at the flying creatures above, who swirled round ready for another dive-bomb. ‘Bird-brains; over here!’

The wyrms gave a horrible massed shriek of glee, before diving down through the sky. Percival charged forwards along the ramparts, trying to position himself so that the catapult could catch all the wyrms in a single strike.

‘Come on!’ he yelled, brandishing his sword. ‘Have a go if you think you’re hard enough!’

Another shriek, as the wyrms descended.

Percival raised his sword towards the sky.

‘Camelot, to me!’

BOOOOOM!

The ground shook beneath his feet, and the wyrms seemed to wobble in the air. A second later, they gave another shriek but, this time, with terror. They swerved, distracted.

‘Now, Benton!’

The Greek fire launched, flying a few feet over Percival’s head and crashing straight into the wyrms. The creatures gave a hideous final scream, and crashed to the floor of the courtyard below.

‘Sir!’ Benton exclaimed, running forward. ‘Thank goodness!’

‘I thought I was a goner there!’ Percival exclaimed, pulling the man into a one-armed embrace. ‘Excellent aim, man!’

‘Thank you,’ Benton said, grinning. ‘I wouldn’t have been able to if they hadn’t gotten distracted by the blur on the horizon.’

Percival stared at him.

‘The what on the horizon?’

Benton pointed upwards into the sky at an angle, over the ramparts and towards the eastern horizon.

Percival’s eyes followed, and his mouth promptly dropped open.

‘By my fathers bones…’ he gasped, in awe. ‘What on…’

The blur grew closer and closer. There was another loud boom and four dragons appeared at the other end of the valley, upon the largest of which was stood a figure in white, their long hair streaming out behind them in the wind. The first signs of the sunrise were just behind them.

‘Merlin!’

The dragons, huge and magnificent, landed on the massive ramparts, and their riders slid off, landing on the cracked stone of the courtyard.

Percival, Benton next to him, hurried forwards. Merlin, eyes bright and alive, stumbled where they stood. Master Tegan, with Miss Nyssa by their side, was stood, thanking the dragon that had carried them, their cloaks flapping in the breeze. And Dynadan was stood next to Merlin, putting down his visor as he stared round at the citadel before them.

‘Am I glad to see you, my friend!’

‘Likewise, Percival!’ Dynadan exclaimed, clapping his friend on the shoulder. ‘But how goes the battle?’

‘Badly! Mordred’s forces have already pushed through the citadel; I think they have made the castle their main objective!’

Merlin gripped their staff, eyes containing flickering light.

‘I need to reach the tree,’ they said, wobbling slightly where they stood. ‘We don’t have much time.’

At this moment, Barbara hurried forward, pushing past the knights and throwing a maternal pair of arms around Miss Nyssa.

‘Nyssa!’ she exclaimed, her eyes wide with worry. ‘Are you alright?’

‘I’m fine,’ Miss Nyssa said, as the older woman gripped her softly by the shoulders. ‘Please, Barbara; where is the queen and king?’

‘They are in the castle; we haven’t been able to reach them since the attack happened.’

‘We need to break through,’ Dynadan said, turning to Merlin. ‘Do you have much magic?’

Merlin shook their head, before placing a hand on the head of the dragon that had carried him and Dynadan. There was a brief moment of silence.

Merlin nodded, as if having had a conversation with the dragon entirely through their minds.

‘The noble dragons will blast us a path through Mordred’s forces into the castle,’ they said. ‘But they cannot win the battle for us; we must reach the tree and defend Arthur. Tegan, Nyssa; the sword and shield found their way to you for a reason. That reason is for the task ahead of us.’

Tegan and Nyssa turned, nodded to each other and hurried forward, their weapons drawn. With a snap of broaches, their cloaks landed on the stones beneath their feet. Percival could have sworn that the sword and shield seemed to glint in the half-light of the pre-dawn.

With a cry, the dragons took off, heading directly for the main entrance to the castle. There was an almighty boom, followed by the sounds of more wyrms exploding.

‘Let’s go,’ Dynadan said. ‘Percival, Benton; we’ve got wyrms to defeat.’

The scene that met them at the inner castle wall was of utter carnage. Everywhere was the wreckage of battle, although Tegan could make out no casualties thus far. However, there were numerous gaps in the stone wall, and tattered banners hung limp from the shattered windows of buildings nearby. There were also several craters in the cobbles, filled with the venom of dissolving wyrms, as the dark magic that sustained their forms was destroyed.

Dynadan was a few yards ahead, with Merlin at his side. Percival and Benton brought up the rear.

‘I need to find the king; Percival, come with me!’ Dynadan exclaimed, turning to Tegan and Nyssa. ‘You two and Benton get Merlin to the tree!’

The two of them nodded. As Percival and Dynadan hurried away towards the castle, Benton joined Tegan and Nyssa where they stood.

‘Do you have a weapon?’ Tegan asked.

Benton held up a short staff, and then picked up an abandoned shield off the ground.

‘I’ll do my best.’

Tegan and Nyssa nodded.

‘That’s all we can do, in the end.’

Merlin staggered, wobbling again.

‘I…’ their voice quavered as they spoke. ‘I’m getting weaker. Mordred must have found the tree; we must hurry…’

Tegan and Nyssa quickly pulled Merlin’s arms over their shoulders, and hurried forward, half-supporting half-carrying the aged sorcerer with them, Benton at their side, shield at the ready. They must have looked a rather strange group, but Tegan found it difficult to care that much, given the gravity of the situation that awaited them in the castle.

‘Mr Benton, you go on ahead and scout out the danger,’ Nyssa said. ‘We’ll be no good in a fight like this.’

Benton nodded and hurried around the next corner. He returned a second later as they approached, his face pale.

‘It’s bad,’ he said, easing Merlin to the floor so as to give Tegan and Nyssa a breathing space. ‘I couldn’t see the king anywhere, but the central courtyard is full of fighting.’

Their brow covered in sweat, Tegan approached the corner and peeked around it. His blood seemed to turn to ice in their veins.

The central courtyard was in complete chaos. Parts of the castle wall had caved in, and several large piles of rubble were scattered around on the stones. The place was covered with various people, all fighting tooth and nail. She couldn’t make out a word of anything that was going on, as so many people were shouting and the clash of weapons upon weapons was almost deafening. Tegan could hear the shrieks of wyrms and the howls of humans, including yells of “akiya!” from Tribus, his white curly hair ruffling as he sent his enemies flying with strikes of his hands and feet.

She hurried back to the others.

‘Merlin, we need to get you to the tree,’ Tegan said, speaking to the sorcerer, who was looking paler and paler by the second. ‘How long do you think you have left before it dies?’

‘Very little time,’ they replied, gravely. ‘Please…’

Benton eased Merlin’s arm over his own shoulder, helping them to their feet.

‘Benton, can you help Merlin to the tree?’ Nyssa asked. ‘Tegan and I will try to keep any attackers at bay.’

Benton nodded, his earnest face lined with exhaustion but still determined nonetheless.

‘Tegan?’ Nyssa said, as she hauled Pridwen off her back. ‘I don’t know how good I’ll be, but… I’ll protect you as best I can.’

‘Same here,’ Tegan replied, removing Caliburn from the scabbard. ‘Until the end.’

‘It won’t come to that. But thank you. For everything.’

Nyssa smiled at Tegan, her eyes blazing with a fierce pride despite the exhaustion she was clearly feeling. Tegan’s heart ached as she smiled in reply.

The four of them turned the corner, emerging into the courtyard. The din of battle quickly surrounded them, their eyes becoming used to the clangs of metal against metal and the screams and cries of the many different combatants.

A man charged towards them, and Tegan pushed Benton out of harms’ way. Nyssa slammed Pridwen against the assailant, before retreating and allowing Tegan to strike the figure with Caliburn. The man seemed to explode into green flame as the weapon touched him. A few moments later, there was nothing but ash on the stones where he had stood.

‘Another one of Mordred’s dark magic creations,’ Nyssa gasped, looking around. ‘Where’s Merlin and Benton?’

‘I don’t know,’ Tegan replied, wiping sweat from their brow. ‘The last I saw, Benton was knocking out someone with his staff-’

There was a crash of a window, and a figure fell through it.

It was Arthur. He was wearing armour and, as he scrambled to his feet, Tegan was alarmed to see that he was clearly the worse for wear. It seemed as if he had wounds in both legs, because he seemed barely able to stand.

SCREECH!

‘No!’ Merlin cried, as an enormous wyrm appeared from above, heading straight for Arthur Pendragon. Tegan’s breath caught in her throat.

But, at the last moment, one of the dragons soared in, snapping a wyrm out of the air and preventing it attacking Arthur, who had managed to dive out of range.

However, barely a few seconds passed before another figure leaped out of the broken window and rushed forward towards Arthur with their sword raised.

Barely a second later, Arthur was locked in combat with the figure, who was clad in black armour. There was a crash, as Arthur knocked off his foe’s helmet, revealing a face clenched in anger, but with eyes that Tegan recognised.

The son of Lady Faye; Mordred.

‘Arthur…’

Merlin had staggered forward, half-supported by Benton.

‘Merlin, you can barely walk!’

‘The magic is almost depleted,’ Merlin said, shakily, pointing at the tree. ‘Look… barely three leaves remain…’

Tegan’s heart dropped. Sure enough, the tree was almost entirely bare. A few, decayed leaves were still connected to one half-broken branch. They were almost out of time. So close but so far away at the same time!

Tegan locked eyes with Nyssa. The young woman stared at her, and time seemed to slow around them.

Their faces nodding in unison, Tegan and Nyssa turned, wielding their weapons and charged forward towards the tree. Through the mass of forces ranged against them.

What happened next, Tegan couldn’t entirely recall. All they were really aware of was the swords that clattered off Pridwen and Caliburn, that her body moved on its own occasion, dodging and dancing out of the way of blows, and of himself knocking out the people who aimed to cause harm to themselves and to the brave wonderful woman fighting next to her. Nyssa. They were in-sync, completely and utterly, working like a well-oiled machine, as swift as a running river and as smooth as the softest silk. Their movements complimented and enhanced the other. Tegan had no way of knowing whether it was due to the magic of the shield and sword finally coming into its own, or if this was simply due to themself and Nyssa. All she knew was that she would protect this woman forever. And Tegan knew, without even needing to ask, that Nyssa was thinking the exact same thing about Tegan.

Their bodies arched around each other, sword and shield perfectly balanced between them, Tegan’s reach reinforced by Nyssa’s support, and vice versa. Their enemies fell back in a wide arc, unable to intrude on this dance of two equals working together to save each other. Eternally and always, saving each other.

All of this seemed to happen in barely a few seconds.

Tegan and Nyssa came to a stop, back to back, weapons raised in front of them, and their mouths breathing heavily. They stared round at the constructs of knights of black armour that were already turning to smoke and dust in a huge arc around them.

Wait, where was Arthur? Come to think of it, where were all the other knights who had been there? How long had Tegan and Nyssa been fighting for? It had felt like barely a few moments.

CLANG!

There was a crash as Benton was thrown backwards towards them. Nyssa barely managed to pull Tegan out of the way, before Benton -flying through the air at the speed of a galloping horse- crashed through a window behind them.

‘Benton!’

‘I’m alright…’ came the reply, as the man struggled back to his feet. He climbed back through the smashed window. ‘But… no, Merlin!’

There was a crash and a moan of pain.

Merlin fell to the ground, their face a bloody mess. Mordred strode across the courtyard. Tegan and Nyssa, with Benton just behind them, scrambled forwards, staring in horror at the scene before their eyes.

‘Shame you had to come back,’ Mordred growled. ‘I was just getting into the swing of things here, but you always were a wily one, Merlin…’

‘Foolish boy…’ -Merlin pulled themselves up to their elbows- ‘You have no idea what you are doing…’

‘Oh, I do,’ replied Mordred. ‘Once I get rid of you, Camelot will finally be mine. Arthur can wait; I’ll kill you first, and I’ll enjoy it all the more when I finally kill Arthur, as he knows his golden age has finally been destroyed-’

‘No!’

Mordred was blasted back a few feet, and a figure charged inbetween the two combatants.

Morgan Le Fay was stood, her arms shielding the aged sorcerer, who lay exhausted on the ground behind her. Her eyes were wide and earnest, hair flying loose as her hair covering fell away. The stones crackled underneath her feet, as if she was willing Camelot itself to protect Merlin, forming a barrier between herself and her wayward son.

‘Mother,’ Mordred growled, stepping forward. ‘Get out of my way.’

‘No!’ Lady Fay exclaimed. ‘You will not harm Merlin!’

Mordred raised a hand, and a man in armour -much like the one who had attacked Tegan and Nyssa earlier- hurried forward, using his lance to force Lady Fay away.

Benton hurried forward, joining Lady Fay to engage the man in combat. The three of them crashed through a nearby window.

‘Your tree, wasn’t it, Merlin?’ Mordred said, striding over and pinning Merlin to the ground below it, his sword at the aged sorcerer’s throat. ‘You told me all about me during my apprenticeship. But it seemed you couldn’t quite reach it in time. Failed at the final hurdle, I’m afraid.’

Mordred’s eyes glinted, and drew back his sword.

‘Goodnight, Camelot!’

His sword blurred through the air.

Blood spattered across the stones and onto the bark of the tree.

There was a sickening thump of flesh against stone. Merlin slumped down on the shattered ground, the front of their robes beginning to soak red. They gave a gasp, and more blood spluttered out of their mouth. Their head rolled, eyes falling back in aged sockets.

There was a horrible, very dark, moment of silence.

‘Such a shame,’ Mordred gloated, his eyes bulging as he turned to face Tegan and Nyssa.

‘Yes,’ Tegan and Nyssa replied. ‘For you, that is.’

Mordred’s eyes looked quizzically at them, confused.

‘But… Merlin…’

‘You idiot,’ Tegan said. ‘The connection was between Merlin and the tree; and what did you just do?’

Mordred’s eyes widened in dawning realisation. The armour-clad man swung around, as a blinding light enveloped the tree, shining like a beacon to all the world. Mordred stumbled, seemingly blinded. Tegan and Nyssa shielded their eyes, as a figure appeared before the light.

Merlin was on their feet, their face alive with joy and their limbs powerful. The staff was no longer a walking cane, but a weapon. The light of the tree reflecting off the sorcerer’s white hair.

The sun finally peaked over the horizon. Its light glinted off Caliburn and Pridwen, causing them to shine as if gold. Nyssa caught Tegan’s eye, and the two of them charged forward towards the startled Mordred, who had been staring at Merlin in complete shock.

Tegan swung Caliburn, sending Mordred back. Barely a second later, giving him no let-up, Nyssa lunged forward, forcing Pridwen against his throat.

Mordred fell backwards, tripping over the shattered stones of the courtyard beneath him.

Merlin slammed their staff down on the front of Mordred’s armour, which disintegrated around him in a flash of black smoke. The man was left, lying on the ground, wearing a dark shift and trousers. With a snap of their fingers, Merlin sent chains around Mordred, trying him in place.

‘You know, for Merlin’s old apprentice,’ Tegan said, looking down at the man, who was already struggling against his bonds. ‘You don’t know much about magic, do you? Half your constructs disappear after a couple of strikes.’

Mordred glared up at them all, brow furrowed in anger.

‘Merlin, my old friend…’ came a voice from behind them.

Tegan turned. Arthur was walking towards them, supported by Lady Fay and Benton. The man was tired but was otherwise unharmed. His wounds from earlier seemed to already be healing due to the return of Camelot’s magic.

Tegan could practically feel the magic in the air; it was strange and otherworldly, and yet surprisingly comforting. Like a warm stew after a hard day working in the fields of her parents farm back home.

She turned to Nyssa, and they could see her own amazement reflected on the young woman’s face. Her cheeks dimpled, and she reached out, squeezing Tegan’s hand gently. Tegan could already feel her exhaustion slowly leaving her, although she knew that she would still need a good nights rest after all this.

‘It is good to see you again,’ replied Merlin, as Arthur pulled them into a joyous hug. ‘I am sorry I could not arrive back any sooner.’

‘No matter,’ Arthur said, grinning as he stared at his old friend. ‘It is more than enough to have you returned at all.’

‘Hang on,’ Tegan exclaimed, pointing at him. ‘Where did you disappear off to? Weren’t you fighting Mordred?’

Arthur chuckled, not seeming to notice Tegan’s rudeness.

‘Bit of a trick Merlin taught me back in the day,’ he said. ‘It sent me through into the room where Morgan and Mr Benton were fighting one of Mordred’s creations.’

At that moment, Guinevere, with Barbara by her side, emerged from the nearest doorway. Barbara let out a cry of delight, and ran to hug Nyssa.

‘Are you alright, dear?’ she asked, maternally. Around them, knights and various hangers-on were emerging from doorways, having presumably defeated Mordred’s forces in other parts of the castle. ‘Oh, you’re all covered in sweat…’

‘I think I am rather in need of a good bath,’ Nyssa chuckled, before nudging Tegan with her elbow. ‘What say you, Master Tegan?’

Tegan blushed, as Barbara gave a knowing smile.

‘Perhaps later,’ Tegan said. ��Good grief, I need a rest before anything else.’

‘You both have been very brave,’ Barbara said, now squeezing Tegan’s shoulder with a supportive hand. ‘I’m sure no-one could deny you some time to relax-’

‘Arthur!’ Mordred growled, face like thunder as he was hauled to his feet by two knights that Tegan did not know the names of. ‘You know as well as I do that your precious golden age will come to an end, and that you are prophesied to die at my hands at Camlann!’

‘True,’ replied Arthur, nodding. ‘But that day is not today. And you know fully well that you will die by my hands at that same battle.’

Mordred grunted.

‘Seems kinda counter-intuitive to me,’ Tegan muttered, so that only Nyssa could hear it. ‘I mean, doesn’t that defeat the whole purpose of him trying to seize the kingdom?’

Nyssa giggled.

As Mordred was led off, Arthur scratched his head and put an arm around Guinevere.

‘Well,’ he said. ‘Merlin is back with us, and the tree is restored. It’s good to see that Dynadan has… wait, where is your knight, Master Tegan?’

‘Er…’ Tegan said, looking around through the assembled knights and hangers-on. However, a few seconds later, Dynadan emerged out of a staircase, pushing a man in manacles in front of him.

‘My apologies for my delay, sire,’ he said. ‘This sniper was up next to a second-floor window; couldn’t risk him taking a shot while you were all congratulating everyone.’

‘You have my thanks, Dynadan,’ Arthur replied, chuckling, as the sniper was led away by a couple of knights. ‘Your apprentice has done wonderfully; Guinevere and I both agree that you ought to be proud of this young man.’

‘Oh, yes,’ Dynadan said, turning and winking knowingly at Tegan and Nyssa. ‘Very proud indeed.’

Guinevere, on the other hand, had turned to face Nyssa. Her mouth had fallen open.

‘Nyssa, are you wearing… trousers?’

Nyssa looked down, as if confused by the question.

‘Er… yes,’ she said, a little perturbed. ‘They are easier to wear whilst on horseback, you see.’

‘But… Nyssa, you are a handmaiden!’

‘My lady, I don’t follow.’

‘Trousers, Nyssa; trousers!’

Even Arthur looked a little bashful.

‘Guinevere, dear, I really don’t think now is the time to criticise your handmaiden’s sartorial choices-’

‘If not now, then when?’ Guinevere exclaimed, still staring in apparent horror at Nyssa. ‘Nyssa, do you realise-’

‘Oh, this is bloody stupid!’ Tegan exclaimed, putting a hand on Nyssa’s shoulder and squeezing. ‘Nyssa has helped save Camelot; no-one cared that she was wearing trousers half an hour ago!’

‘Be that as it may,’ Guinevere said, ignoring Arthur and Merlin’s matching nods of agreement with Tegan. ‘As a handmaiden of my household, she is duty-bound to uphold the morality of-’

‘Morality?’ Tegan exclaimed, not remotely caring that she was technically interrupting the queen. ‘Trousers are just clothes, you stupid-’

‘Do not talk back to me, Master Tegan!’ Guinevere exclaimed. ‘Or I’ll have you on a charge, young man! Nyssa is a woman wearing trousers-’

‘So am I!’

The words were out of Tegan’s mouth before she had really realised what she was saying. There was a very pregnant pause, which birthed several more pauses.

‘Oh, Tegan,’ Nyssa said, very softly, eyes widening in realisation as she turned to look at her. ‘Don’t-’

‘No,’ Tegan replied, softly. ‘If they can’t handle you wearing trousers, then I may as well pack up and go home now.’

Giving Nyssa a quick, comforting smile, Tegan turned to face the king and queen.

‘Yeah, you heard me!’ Tegan exclaimed, eyes darting from Arthur and Guinevere. ‘About as shocking as a man wearing a kilt!’

She could hear a supportive “aye” from someone -presumably, the Caledonian- in the crowd, and continued, feeling emboldened.

‘Trousers are trousers, regardless of who wears them!’ Tegan exclaimed. ‘I’ve got a pair of old socks stuffed down the front; did any of you lot notice until now? Of course not!’

Tegan thrust her hand down into his trousers and pulled out the socks. With a dismissive glare, he threw them at Guinevere’s feet.

‘It’s just a pair of socks,’ Tegan said. ‘But it was apparently enough to stop everyone from noticing!’

‘Well, admittedly, I knew,’ Dynadan said, cheerfully. ‘I didn’t want to say anything; it’s your business, after all.’

‘I… okay, thanks,’ Tegan replied, a little surprised. ‘And that’s why you were fine with me sharing a room with Nyssa?’

‘Actually, I thought you were courting-’

‘Nevermind all that!’ Guinevere exclaimed, as Tegan flushed scarlet, avoiding Nyssa’ eyes. ‘It is still a matter of-’

‘Actually…’

Percival stepped through the crowd, a hesitant but calm look on his face.

‘If we’re going primarily by who’s wearing what, and if Camelot is offended by a woman wearing trousers, then what about me wearing armour?’

Tegan’s mouth fell open.

‘I do prefer being a man,’ Percival continued, his eyes alert and earnest. ‘No-one seemed to have any issues with it when I joined up.’

Tredecim and Yasmin stepped forward, hand in hand.

‘If we’re talking being a woman and being a man, I’d rather be neither,’ said Tredecim, matter-of-factly.

‘And I love them regardless,’ said Yasmin, before pressing a kiss to the blonde’s cheek.

‘Bravo!’ said Dynadan, clapping.

‘And, if I may be so bold…’

Barbara stepped forward, turning to Guinevere.

‘I prefer being a woman to being a man,’ she said, smiling softly. ‘And Ian certainly never complained.’

Guinevere goggled at her.

‘I… I don’t know what to say.’

‘“Have a day off” wouldn’t be a bad start.’

There was an outbreak of repressed laughter amongst the crowd, particularly amongst the physicians.

‘Humans have always been complicated,’ Merlin said, calmly as they stood hand-in-hand with Lady Fay. ‘So, maybe we shouldn’t be too bothered by those complexities? Eh, Guinevere?’

Guinevere looked from Merlin, to Arthur, and then briefly on Tegan, before eventually returning her gaze back to Nyssa.

‘Yes,’ Guinevere said, softly. ‘Maybe my reaction was… uncalled for. Nyssa, you have my apologies.’

Nyssa nodded, looking somewhat surprised.

‘If I may speak with you for a moment,’ Guinevere continued, stepping forward and placing a hand on Nyssa’s shoulder. ‘I believe we ought to discuss some matters…’

Nyssa smiled at Tegan quickly, before being led a short distance away by the queen. Tegan was then clapped on the shoulder by Dynadan, and then immediately after by Percival, followed by several of the other knights that Tegan had not been properly introduced to.

‘Congratulations,’ Dynadan was saying. ‘You’ve more than exceeded my expectations; didn’t I say you’d do well?’

‘That is true,’ Tegan replied, a little bashfully. ‘I take it that I can continue as your apprentice despite… well…’

‘Of course!’ the knight exclaimed, cheerfully. ‘In fact, given how well you showed your tenacity and quick-thinking during the rescue of Merlin, I’d say we can make you a full squire before too long!’

‘Are… are you sure?’

‘Absolutely!’

Tegan looked over to where Guinevere was still talking to Nyssa. Given the mass of people, Tegan couldn’t hear a word the queen was saying. Guinevere whispered something into Nyssa’s ear. However, to Tegan’s surprise, Nyssa’s face flushed scarlet.

Guinevere walked away, slipping an arm through her husbands. The king, with his closest knights and sister around him, led his queen out of the courtyard. As the various courtiers drifted away towards the main hall, and Barbara squeezed Nyssa on the arm again before following, Nyssa approached Tegan, slipping their hands together, smiling slightly.

‘I think that went rather well.’

‘I… yes, you could say that.’

‘Tegan,’ Nyssa said, slowly. ‘What you did was very brave but, I have to admit, also rather stupid.’

‘I know,’ Tegan replied, sighing. ‘I just… I didn’t want them to…’

Nyssa smiled, and pressed a kiss to Tegan’s cheek.

‘You’re so sweet, Tegan.’

The fancy ceremony that evening in the banquet hall was unlike Tegan had seen before. Possibly because both herself and Nyssa had been called upon to receive honours beside Dynadan. Unfortunately, Tegan still had to wear the ridiculous hat but, with Nyssa next to her, she found it hard to complain too much. Well, verbally, at least.

Upon sitting down for the feast, they were surprised that the renewal of the magic really had made a difference to the taste of the food and drink. Before, it had tasted wonderful indeed but now? It was like drinking nectar and eating wondrous honeycomb for every meal. No wonder the inhabitants of Camelot enjoyed their feasts so much-

‘Master Tegan!’

Tegan turned, having been stood on the edge of the dancefloor. She hadn’t managed to catch Nyssa’s eye yet, although she had been hoping to dance with the young woman at some point.

Sybil the dragon lady was bustling over, wearing a long gown and a huge smile.

‘Sybil!’ Tegan exclaimed, delighted, as the lady shook his hand. ‘Since when have you been here in Camelot?’

‘My ship had to make an emergency stop on the coast a day ago,’ explained the older woman. ‘And, when I heard that several Drakonis Nobilis had been spotted here, I just had to come and see for myself! Sam was worried, but I knew I needed to- oh, have you met my husband?’

Tegan found himself dragged by the arm across the hall.

‘Sam!’ Sybil explained. ‘Stop skulking in the shadows!’

A short man, wearing old armour and smoking a foul-smelling cigar, stepped out of the dark shadows of one hallway leading off from the hall. He had the grizzled look of someone who had spent far too many nights out in the rain, but his eyes were kind and soft as he looked at Sybil.

‘Sorry, dear,’ he said, with a gravelly voice, as he extended a hand to Tegan. ‘You must be this young Master Tegan that everyone’s going on about?’

‘Er, yes,’ Tegan said, shaking Vimes’s hand. ‘What are they saying about me, Mister… er-’

‘Vimes,’ said Sam Vimes. ‘Mainly that you gave the queen a right good dressing-down,’-and here he grinned as if he approved-‘You certainly shocked everyone with how angry you got on behalf on your girlfriend.’

‘N-Nyssa’s not my girlfriend!’ Tegan stammered, feeling the back of her neck grow hot. ‘At… at least, I don’t think so.’

Vimes smiled, knowingly. It wasn’t a particularly cheerful sight, since the man had a face that seemed to have been dragged along pebbled streets for several decades, but Tegan understood the sentiment behind it.

‘Sam, stop worrying the poor thing!’

Vimes chuckled, linking an arm through that of his wife.

‘Good to see you again, Master Tegan,’ Sybil said, smiling down at Tegan. ‘Like I said before, if you ever want a job with the dragons, the offer is there.’

‘Thank you,’ Tegan said, grinning. ‘But… I think I’m happy here.’

‘Well, if you’re sure,’ Sybil grinned. ‘But, as is the case with dragons, always look to where you see your home. Or… with whom you see it, perhaps.’

Sybil, with Sam by her side, turned and walked away, leaving Tegan with a swirl of confused thoughts.

A little exhausted, Tegan walked through the crowd. They eventually reached the far end of the hall, slipped out of the doors, and stepped out into the quiet courtyard, enjoying the feeling of the cool summer night against her skin. She tucked the hat into her belt, and sat down on a nearby low wall.

The smell of wildflowers was drifting through the air, and Tegan sat back slightly, looking out into the valley beyond the castle walls. It was a quiet, restful evening; the sort of evenings where the world is calm and tranquil.

Had it really been barely a few days since they had left Cornwall? Good grief, Tegan mused, she probably ought to get around to writing a letter home. Although they could already guess that her mother wouldn’t accept “saving Camelot from destruction” as a reasonable excuse-

‘Getting some fresh air?’

Tegan startled. Nyssa was stood a few yards away, the door to the banquet hall closing behind her.

‘Yeah,’ Tegan replied, blinking quickly. ‘You got tired of all the courtiers asking you to dance, then?’

‘Actually, I believe they were all expecting me to dance with… someone else.’

Tegan blinked, as Nyssa sat down next to her, smiling softly.

‘Oh,’ she said. ‘Right.’

Nyssa let out a giggle, sounding almost birdsong to Tegan’s ears. The young woman turned to look at her, and Tegan felt her breath catch in their throat at the warmth in Nyssa’s expression.

‘It looks like Dynadan was very impressed with you.’

‘I suppose,’ Tegan said. ‘Is Guinevere happy for you to wear trousers?’

Nyssa smiled, kicking her legs out beneath her.

‘I think she’ll get used to it. Her reaction was probably due to her background, really; a lot of noble women rarely get to wear practical clothing. She had a hard time imagining anyone needing to wear anything other than fine robes and dresses.’

‘Oh, the poor thing.’

The two of them shared a smile, before looking out over the valley. The full moon was out, shining through the scant clouds being blown across the sky. Summer was well-and-truly blossoming all around them, helped by the renewed magic that had returned to Albion.

Above, they could see the Noble Dragons flying around, enjoying the feeling of the warm summer air.

‘I think,’ Nyssa said, softly, turning to Tegan, ‘that Nightbane will be offering us another ride amongst the clouds before the hour is out.’

‘You sure you’ll be okay with that?’

Nyssa smiled at her.

‘I… think I will be more agreeable to it this time. Amongst the stars… perhaps, it will less terrifying this time.’

‘A short flight this time, maybe?’

Nyssa smiled.

‘How could I possibly say no to you?’

Tegan stared at her for a moment.

‘You know,’ she said, chuckling. ‘Sometimes, I get the sense that you’re not nearly as sheltered as you let on.’

Nyssa giggled.

‘That is yours to find out, Tegan,’ she said. ‘I couldn’t possibly comment.’

‘There you go again!’

The two of them laughed.

‘I rather like your trousers,’ Tegan said, a tad bashfully. ‘They… well, you look good in them.’

‘Thank you,’ Nyssa said. ‘And I like your trousers too.’

‘Thanks. Actually…’ Tegan said, slowly. ‘To be honest with you, I… I kinda didn’t mind being called “Master Tegan”. When everyone was thinking of me as a man, it… I dunno, I didn’t mind it as much as I thought I might. I… rather liked it, truth be told.’

Nyssa nodded.

‘So… would you prefer it if I referred to you as a man?’

‘Or a woman,’ Tegan elaborated. ‘I… I suppose I like both. Although… maybe erring on the side of being a woman around you?’

‘Your wish is my command,’ Nyssa said, squeezing Tegan’s hand. ‘Whatever makes you happiest, Tegan.’

‘Thank you,’ Tegan said, their mouth stretching into a smile. It felt… nice. Tegan could be a woman, and be a man at the same time. Or… maybe be something entirely different than both. She, he, they; whoever Tegan was, Tegan was definitely looking forward to finding out.

Nyssa scooted closer on the wall, and pressed her hand softly over Tegan’s. Her face was barely a few inches away, and Tegan found themselves once again feeling like they were falling. But, into what, Tegan had a certain idea. It wasn’t a bad idea. It was a wonderful idea.

Oh, such a wonderful idea.

‘What…’ Tegan said, slowly, ‘…what did Guinevere say to you earlier?’

Nyssa giggled, face flushing in the light of the full moon above.

‘I believe her exact phrasing was: “Don’t let that Master Tegan get away”.’

‘O-oh,’ Tegan replied, blinking quickly. They didn’t seem to have a stomach any more, because it seemed to have gone strangely numb. Although they could not say the same for her heart, which they could practically hear pounding in their ears.

Nyssa stared at Tegan for a moment, angling her head as if expecting more of a response.

Tegan swallowed, rallying her frazzled nerves.

‘Are…’ they said, very slowly. ‘Are you going to follow her advice?’

Nyssa smiled wider at her, cheeks dimpling. Her eyes were large, and her pupils seemed to have dilated. Softly, she leaned forward and pressed her lips to Tegan’s.

Time seemed to stand still around them, and Tegan’s eyes slipped shut, unable to comprehend anything other than the sweet intoxicating scent of Nyssa, the taste of her soft lips, and the feel of her hands as one cupped Tegan’s chin to deepen their kiss.

Eventually, after what felt like a glorious eternity, their lips parted. Nyssa did not lean back, however, and instead kept her face barely a few inches from Tegan’s blushing cheeks.

‘I already was, Tegan.’

~~~~~~~~~

Thanks for reading, everyone! I hope you enjoyed this series; I'm really starting to enjoy writing more unusual fics and experimenting with genre and theme along the way. And, of course, I had to shove in some more Discworld references (Hence Sam Vimes having a random cameo in the final chapter!).Once again, thank you for reading and I hope to bring you all more interesting stories in the future (no spoilers, but my next multi-chapter fic will involve a mystery). Stay tuned!

#'once and future'#arthurian!au #arthurian mythology #doctor who fanfiction #tegan/nyssa #nyssa/tegan #tegan jovanka #nyssa #nyssa of traken #tegan x nyssa #nyssa x tegan #indestructible #heathrow scientific #tyssa #sir dynadan #sam vimes cameo #discworld reference #lgbtqia+

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