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emcant · 2 years ago

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Batfic concept: What I Learned On My Summer Vacation

Several disclaimers: I have never actually written a fanfic. I'm a hair too old and sheltered to have gotten both into it and good at it; my skill set does not reflect my age, and I'd like to rectify that.

Batman: TAS swept me off my feet about five years ago. Ever since I fall asleep thinking about the blorbos, and I can't sleep tonight. One of the other can'ts that my handle refers to is "draw" - I'd like to learn, mostly to sketch these out. But I have already seen such an explosion of talent since rejoining tumblr that I think this is better offered to you as is. Please, take this and run with it! You can do a better job than I can.

The Jarley dynamic is 1000% radioactive and I do not condone it in the slightest - but I grew up in a verbally ab*sive household. I have heard my parents say things to me that the Joker says to her. I live for early Harley's little "this isn't right" moments, her gradual but ever growing realization that she's worth more. I'm thrilled she got written out and into happiness, but I recognize her most- and need her most- under this specific kind of duress.

Word count: Up to you (nsfw also up to you)

Pairing: the Joker/Harley Quinn

Summary:

Dick, as Nightwing, gives a presentation in the Batcave about his new intel on the Joker and Harley. He evidently just tangled with them and returned unhurt. He's as confused as anyone else, and is frankly unsure he has any valuable new info. Mostly he's here to talk it out.

A few days earlier, much to his chagrin, he got called away from something important to speed after a crime in progress. This is early Nightwing as well; he is less than pleased at still being at Bruce's beck and call. Facing traffic on the main roads, he elects to speed through a back road on the way to a campsite. This works grandly - until he encounters an RV with an open passenger side door. Unable to stop the bike in time, he slams into the door with enough force to pull it off of its hinges. He flies, briefly, and lands firmly on his back.

And all that's around him is laughter. Briefly. It cuts short, and into a vehement "Do NOT do that!" the second he tries to sit up. Eyes focusing, he takes in the Joker, smothering giggles outside the driver's side, and Harley looking terrified and approaching him like he's a wounded animal. Neither of them are costumed.

This situation is the last thing any of them want. All of them assume that Dick's been concussed. Harley eases him out of his helmet; the Joker passes him a pair of sunglasses off of his person. Even though he's costumed and likely has a wallet on him, they are suspiciously un-keen to figure out who he is. The Joker disappears with the bike and helmet, hurls them over the side of the road and empties an entire clip of bullets into them with a silenced pistol, partly as a message but mostly from frustration. Harley retrieves or constructs a neck brace for Dick and opens a side door to let the hyenas out. With her around, they leave him alone.

On the Joker's return, they very gently get Dick into the master bed, and proceed down the road as they had been. Dick is conscious but extremely confused. They mostly talk to each other: this sucks and they both hate it, but "we agreed". Dick asks: What did they agree? This is their vacation: no business, and business includes winding each other up. No raised voices, no manhandling, no insults - if someone gets pissed off, they're to walk it off and come back happy. As far as they're concerned, they've just got an extra guest now; they won't do anything bad to him because, for all intents and purposes, Batman doesn't even exist. Both of them hate this but are trying to make it work.

Mostly, they came out to see a rarer meteor shower, so they have the rest of the day and all of daylight tomorrow as time to kill. Things ensue. Teaching Bud and Lou new tricks (they nip the Joker hard enough to draw blood but he's too proud that they pulled it off to notice), teaching Harley to count cards (she insists on making it strip poker when she wins), Harley teaching the Joker some basic acrobatics (he sucks and won't take Dick's input), figuring out a grill, day drinking. Consistently, there are opportunities for them to lash out at each other; as consistently, the instigator walks off and the other person talks to Dick about something else. Dick reflects that this side of them feels like visiting an aunt and uncle, but ones that are better seen in small doses.

(Side plot?: the Joker realizes that if he gets sunburned enough, he will not be recognizable, and achieves this in about 15 minutes. Now, like Dick and Harley, he can walk off camp without worrying about getting identified, and gloats about it a bit - but every motion hurts.)

(Side HCs: the RV is Chief O'Hara's retirement gift to himself. Also, this is the Joker's birthday weekend, so Harley might have gifts of a certain nature ready for him once they get to bed.)

Finally the meteor shower arrives. Dick has been stuck lying on his back this entire time - they are all a bit frightened to move his neck. More gently than you might expect, the rogues ease him outside so he doesn't miss the show. Why so gentle? Well, they've both been concussed (likely by him), and again, this is a vacation. He ought to be living it up too.

They watch the stars and talk about how the biggest privilege in Gotham is to be able to get out of Gotham. You really can't even see the night sky most of the time. They talk about their dads and what they wanted for them, and how frequently wrong that felt. They drink. (After a bit Dick presses them: really, nothing illegal? - then retrieves rolling papers and a small amount of weed from his costume. The Joker just about dies laughing. They share.)

Dick retires to the camper's bedroom again. The Joker and Harley set up cots under a mosquito net and sleep under them with the hyenas (maybe after doing some things that Dick really didn't need to overhear). The Joker wakes up to the hyenas whining, and briefly thinks that they can't figure out that they're already outside... until he sees a smoke plume in the distance. The bike! Worried that the road is closed, he hustles everyone into the RV and drives out of there like a bat out of hell. As they move, it becomes clear that they're passing into a forest fire. He must have set off a spark when he shot out the fuel tank.

And the facade falls. He comes clean. Harley didn't know he'd been packing this whole time: "what are you, crazy?". They shout at each other the rest of the way off the site - but ultimately come out unscathed, dropping Dick at the first city bus stop they see. Uncaring again. In media res.

But Dick feels different. Weird. Not like he's grown, necessarily, but like he's seen something he didn't know existed. If they can have passably normal times outside of the life, why can't he? He deserves happiness too - and, he realizes, his is almost certainly more genuine.

His presentation ends, in so many words, with "that was strange but I'm fine".

#tbh idek how to tag this #blorbos #batfics #batman tas #gotham rogues #jarley #nightwing

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thecarnivorousmuffinmeta · 3 years ago

Note

Twilight if Bella was Death in the same way as Lily/Harry/Azrael? I feel like Bella has unique interpretation of the world that is somewhat like Lily's and a sense of denial not unlike your Harry's. Thanks I love your metas!

Anon is referring to Lily and the Art of Being Sisyphus, October, and probably When Harry Met Tom. Also, hello meta people, before I vomited opinions onto the internet I used to write seriously weird fanfiction. I still do.

To recap for those that don't read my fanfiction: in these stories Harry (or Ellie in the case of "Lily") is "Death", a mysterious figure with even more mysterious and seemingly unlimited power over the universe. A god, essentially.

Anon points out that Bella has some marked similarities between "Lily's" Lily, in her strange perspective on the world and all the players in it, and Harry from "When Harry Met Tom" who is convinced she's absolutely normal and everything is fine and you can light evildoers on fire with your bare hands and "the power of friendship".

Anon's... not wrong.

So, with that, what if Bella was a god?

Bella the Goddess: The Pretty Much Canon Route

Well... potentially, nothing changes. Lily in her fic notices her abilities because she rises from the dead and, from an early age, meets those who point it out to her. Sure, reality also seems to be falling apart, but that has nothing to do with her and everything to do with reality.

Bella, in a lot of ways, is a lot more oblivious than a five-year-old Ellie Potter.

Bella meets aliens in the cafeteria that no one else seems to notice and learns they're vampires who aren't actually vampires. Bella has prophetic slayer dreams every now and then. Bella hallucinates Edward Cullen who occasionally feeds her information she might not actually have known before hand. Bella's brain is silent. Bella used her gift to protect an army from the most powerful gifts in the world in only a month.

Bella could potentially be far more powerful than she is (this is probably the case, actually, Bella's gift is terrifying) and she... just... never notices.

But that's boring. We already have canon, clearly this ask was meant to get us, well, not canon.

Bella and the Art of Being Sisyphus

Bella has some fatal accident when she's a child. She drank drain cleaner from Renee's non-childproof cupboard. However, because Bella's an immortal god, she comes back from the dead.

Bella thus grows up being very confused. Bella knows she's definitely died several times throughout her childhood thanks to just a) childhood accidents b) various misadventures fueled by a lack of sense of any caution but everyone keeps talking about this dying stuff.

Bella realizes fairly quickly that most people, most organic life... doesn't come back like she does.

By the time Bella's in early elementary school she probably realizes she's an alien.

She may look like a combination of Charlie and Renee (and this disturbs her greatly as that can't be right) but something is funky town in Bella's gene pool. Renee assures Bella that she did not take part in any government experiments while pregnant.

And after too many Saturday morning cartoons involving alien invaders, dissections, etc., Bella becomes terrified of doctors and DNA tests. She is convinced her life will turn into ET at any moment now and she's going to have to escape from people dressed in space suits on a flying bike.

(And yes, she checked, she can make the bike fly.)

Bella probably tries to phone home a number of times and... it probably works. Because this is Twilight, a beautiful, strange, universe with all sorts of things in it.

Bella spends a year in space, it goes poorly, and returns to Earth with none the wiser and very traumatized/learned from her experience.

I imagine her life is filled with very strange misadventures that Bella just thinks are normal. Or, at least, normal for her. That time Bella travelled in time, stepped on a butterfly, and then there were Frog People for half a day until Bella fixed it? Yeah, that was a thing.

That time some poor boy asked Bella on a date in middle school and joined her for an underwater quest where they tried to see if James Cameron's Abyss was real or not? Yeah, he hasn't spoken to her since. He's also terrified of fish now. And megaladons.

Beautiful marble people in the Forks cafeteria? Bella assumes that one's her fault. She doesn't know how, she doesn't know what she did, but she is 100% certain that the Cullens (and the fact that everyone thinks they're human) is her fault somehow.

She must have stepped on another butterfly when she wasn't looking.

Bella's very candid about all of this with Edward (which of course horrifies him because THE SECRET) but Bella has absolutely no sense of self preservation. Dying's obnoxious, and sometimes painful, but she's been there and done that.

Edward somehow still convinces himself that Bella's a beautiful maiden in need of his protection. This is even after Bella shows off her own totally awesome gift(s). "You see, Edward, I just made a dimension of shrimp. Not sure when anyone's ever going to need that. But wouldn't it be awesome?"

Edward thinks that's nice, hamburger thinks its special.

Bella can't believe she has friends. Even if they're blood drinking aliens. This. Is. Amazing.

She takes the Cullens to space and pointedly doesn't visit her alien friends. They don't talk about that adventure. It did not go well. By the way, did you know that Bella is worshipped in the Andromeda star system? Yeah, that's a thing. But we're not talking about it.

Carlisle starts becoming very concerned that Bella might, in fact, be a clueless second coming. Because there's gifted humans then there's, well, this.

Edward is still convinced he's a danger to Bella and that Bella is an ordinary human with an over active imaginaton.

Whenever Bella does come across the Volturi, Aro's very tempted, but also for once recognizes that this might be too spicy. Bella's this powerful now, what the hell will happen when she becomes a vampire? Caius' vote is an adamant no for the same reason. They decide to classify her as a supernatural creature/give her a pass on the law because. Well. The immortality thing.

And yeah, things like that.

This is one of those ideas that's really better written as a fic than it is as a rambling tumblr post. But know I just picture zany misadventures, Edward being Edward, and all of that good stuff.

#twilight #twilight meta #twilight headcanon #twilight renaissance #lily and the art of being sisyphus #october #when harry met tom #bella swan #meta #headcanon #opinion

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xanasaurusrex · 4 years ago

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Light - B.M.

Pairing: Beverly Marsh x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1918 words

Warnings: Love confession, mutual pining, swimming, swearing, Richie Tozier (it’s a warning within itself), kissing, tooth-rotting fluff I stg, Losers Club are aged up to 17, super crappy ending, not proofread, I think that’s it! Please let me know if I missed anything!

Summary: The other Losers know for a fact that Bev returns Y/N’s feelings, even though she’s blind to them herself. But after a set up one day, maybe she’ll see the light.

Notes: My first ever It (2017) fic! Also my first fic on Tumblr! Thank you to anyone who read this, because it’s taking a lot of courage to write this, let alone post it…. Yeah, Bev and Richie are my favorite characters in the movies, and, given my url, I figured my first fic should be a Bev fic! Anyways, I hope you enjoy!

******

“She likes you back, Y/N,”

“No she doesn’t.”

“Stop fighting it, we all see it!”

Y/N looked at Richie with a roll of her eyes, turning back forward to avoid crashing into anyone or anything with her bike. “Can you stop with that? I don’t want you giving me false hope when I know she doesn’t like me back,”

Richie was the one to roll his eyes this time.

Everyone in the Losers Club knew that Y/N had had a crush on Bev for as long as they could all remember. Since the first day she saw Bev in the pharmacy after they found Ben outside the sewers and had gone in to find the supplies to fix him up.

Bev had been the one to save the day. She had distracted the man at the counter while they took the things they needed, and had come back afterwards to make sure that Ben was okay. Of course, Y/N had realized that it was not the time to be admiring Bev, seeing as Ben had just had a pretty rough run-in with Bowers, and Eddie was freaking out enough as it was.

It didn’t take long for Y/N to fall completely in love with the red-headed Derry resident. She lived in the apartment above hers, and whenever Bev’s dad fell asleep, Bev would climb down the fire escape and climb into Y/N’s window.

Y/N would sit with her and listen to what she said, or would just sit there, and the girls would hug.

On those nights when Bev either couldn’t go down to Y/N’s apartment, or didn’t need to, Y/N would lay down, and stare up at the ceiling, knowing that Bev’s room was directly above her own. She would wonder what Bev was doing, if she was reading the secret admirer note that Ben had given her, or if she was thinking of Y/N just as much as she was thinking of Bev.

It was torture.

It took a little longer for the other members of the Losers Club to realize that Y/N was falling in love with Bev. After that, they all began encouraging her to confess to Bev, because even though at the time they hadn’t seen the light that ignited in Bev’s eyes the second they landed on Y/N, they wanted their friends to be happy, and who else to be happy with but each other?

That was all when they were twelve, nearly five years ago. In that time, they had all seen that Bev loved Y/N the same way Y/N loved Bev. It was hard to watch the two beat around the bush with each other; subtle flirting that neither one noticed (though everyone else did), and even harder to see them think that the other was in love with other people, though everyone else thought it was painfully obvious to everyone else that it was each other they were in love with.

Now, as Y/N and Richie biked home together, Richie tried his best to convince Y/N for the thousandth time that Bev liked her back, no, loved her back.

“I’m sorry Rich, I want to believe you, I really do,” Y/N said for the thousandth time. “But you’ve gotta be blind to not see that Bev and Bill are in love with each other,”

Richie quickly realized that he didn’t have enough energy to argue with her today, even though he still wanted to, instead opting for a safer topic: the test that Mr. Herrd gave them today, that Richie was fairly sure he had failed.

***

“They’re both fuckin idiots,”

Everyone nodded in agreement at Richie’s statement as the entire Losers Club watched Y/N and Bev play around and splash each other in the lake in the quarry, both of them giggling like little girls, their cheeks bright pink, and not from the sun.

“Bev!” Y/N squealed as Bev splashed her with a particularly large amount of water. After taking a second to regain herself, she retaliated by splashing an even larger amount of water at Bev.

“It’s like they’re both wearing signs saying, ‘I’m in love with the person standing in front of me, but since I’m both a pussy and an idiot, I haven’t said anything yet,”

Stan rolled his eyes at Richie’s language, but agreed nonetheless. “I wish they would just admit it to each other already. To be honest, it’s getting tiring. Should we just… lock them in a room together and not let them leave until they confess?”

“That’s an idea,” Bill smiled.

“Maybe we should say we’re meeting at the Quarry but then none of us show up,” Eddie suggested. “Chances are they’re gonna stay and hang out, and maybe if we’re lucky they’ll say something?”

Richie scoffed. “Knowing them, fat chance. I think if this plan fails, we should go with Stan’s idea,”

The others all agreed, and decided when the best date would be to set this up, and then set the date for their backup plan, and decided they would do it at Bill’s house, since his is the biggest and they would be able to hang around and check in on them regularly without having to hear them kick and scream.

“You guys coming back?” Y/N broke the boys out of their trance after her and Bev realized that they had been splashing each other for nearly fifteen minutes, when they should have been splashing the boys. “We’re getting bored!”

The boys all gave each other a sly look before immediately running back towards the water, splashing Bev and Y/N immediately, all of them laughing as they got splashed back.

***

“Are they coming?”

Bev and Y/N had been at the Quarry for nearly half an hour, both of them laying against the rocks, sunbathing, in just their bikinis. It took everything in both of them not to stare at the other and admire everything about them.

Y/N glanced at the watch that she had taken off her wrist, anticipating that they’d be swimming, and saw that it was now forty five minutes after noon, the time all the Losers had agreed to be at the Quarry.

Y/N sighed. “I don’t think so. Maybe they all forgot?”

Bev laughed. “You think Stan forgot? He’s probably at Richie’s with the others trying to get Richie out of bed. How much d’you wanna bet he stayed up all night on his Gameboy again, and now he’s sleeping the day away?”

She said the last part in a mock-dreamy way, a tone of voice that had Y/N’s heart soaring. She had always loved the sound of Bev’s voice, and there were certain times when it would just go straight to tug on Y/N’s heartstrings. It was never a particular time, just… Bev.

Everything about Bev was magical to Y/N. Somehow, all it took was one small smile, one of Bev’s smiles, and all of a sudden, Y/N was a completely different person.

Normally, she didn’t really like physical contact. It wasn’t anything in particular that had caused it, she just never was a really cuddly person. She could enjoy a short hug, or a quick high five, but anything longer than about three seconds made her uncomfortable

She wasn’t that way with Bev. Y/N would hug her for eternity, and would never want to stop. The two often held hands, and told everyone else that it was purely platonic, though Y/N secretly wished that it would be something more.

Y/N knew that Bev was still talking, but she couldn’t focus on anything more than the way that Bev’s lips were moving, as they moved quickly and perfectly to form the words that were on Bev’s brain.

The conscious, realistic part of Y/N’s brain told her that she should be focusing on what her friend was actually saying. That in just a few seconds, Bev was going to do the thing that they always did in movies where she waved her hand in front of Y/N’s face and asked if she had heard anything she said.

Sure enough, she did.

“Y/N/N, are you even listening to me?” Bev asked with a small chuckle.

The sound alone sent more heat to Y/N’s cheeks.

“S-sorry,” Y/N said quickly, shaking her head, almost as if that would clear her head of the thoughts she shouldn’t be having about her best friend. “Just uh… feeling a little out of it today, that’s all,”

Bev nodded in understanding. “Yeah. Today just… feels weird.”

Y/N nodded in agreement.

The two stayed silent for a few more minutes, before Y/N sat up again. “So, since the boys aren’t coming, we probably shouldn’t wait for them to start swimming, right?”

Bev nodded in agreement, before jumping up and running towards the water, yelling, “Last one in the water is a dancing clown!” behind her, before immediately splashing into the water, getting to a deep enough area, and diving in.

Y/N cursed herself, and then immediately launched herself into the water after Bev, inadvertently splashing her with water as she came out of the water herself at the perfect time.

“Got you!”

***

Y/N shook the water droplets out of her hair, refraining from watching as Bev dried out her own hair, slipping the loose dress that she had brought with her over the bikini that she had worn.

It was now five forty five, and Y/N was going to be expected home for dinner soon. After realizing this, she had reluctantly told Bev that she needed to head home.

Since they lived in the same apartment complex, Bev said she’d go with her.

The sunlight from the sunset bounced off the lake and onto the two girls standing on the beach next to the lake in the Quarry.

Y/N couldn’t help herself this time. She looked up to Bev, and found that she was staring at her the same way, admiring how the golden light danced across her skin, from the top of her coppery red curls to the very bottom of her feet.

Before she could even process what she was doing, Y/N quickly closed the space between her and Bev, pressing her lips against Bev’s.

It only took Bev two seconds to kiss back, relieved that Y/N had been the one to make the first move.

After a few seconds, they realized that they needed air, so the two reluctantly pulled apart, resting their foreheads together.

“Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted to do that?” Y/N whispered breathlessly.

“It was love at first sight, wasn’t it?” Bev asked. “I saw you with the boys and I knew that it was always going to be you. It’s always been you, Y/N,”

“It’s always been you, Bev,”

The two pulled apart, Bev’s arms still wrapped around Y/N’s neck, Y/N’s hands placed lovingly on Bev’s waist. As she looked into Bev’s eyes, she saw a glint in her eyes that she hadn’t seen before.

The light made Bev’s eyes even brighter than they already were, and the longer Y/N looked at her, the more she fell in love.

“I love you, Bev,” she confessed quietly, feeling like a weight had been lifted off her shoulder at the confession. “I always have.

#beverly marsh #beverly marsh x reader #bev marsh x reader #bev marsh #it 2017 #it chapter one #it fanfiction #losers club #richie tozier x platonic reader #not proofread #bad ending #x reader #beverly marsh x yn #bev marsh x yn #beverly marsh x y/n #bev marsh x y/n #x yn #x y/n

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angryschnauzer · 4 years ago

Text

Just What I Need - Part 2

Summary; Working in a coffee shop you meet all sorts of people, but one customer in particular is always friendly, a local Detective from the nearby precinct. When one night he orders through a delivery service rather than in store, you get more than a tip when you make the delivery.

Part 1

Fandom; Nomis (Night Hunter) Movie, Henry Cavill

Pairing: Detective Walter Marshall x Female Reader (no race or size specified)

Trope: Coffee Shop Meet Cute

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Flirting, unprotected sex, Vaginal Sex.

I do not operate a tag list but instead please pop over and follow @angryschnauzerwrites and put that blog onto notifications, then you’ll get an alert every time i post a new story. My Masterlist got too long and tumblr ate it, so all my past stories can also be found on my AO3, link HERE

I don’t plan on expanding this story any further at this time.

Part 2

Walter pushed the bike through the door to his apartment, resting it against the back of the couch before looking up and realising you weren’t sat on the couch where he’d left you just a couple of minutes ago.

“The snow is really beautiful”

Turning to the sound of your voice he grinned as he pushed the door shut. You’d pulled the net curtain up and was kneeling on the other couch that sat in front of the window, your head tucked under the curtain to watch as the feathery flakes of snow fell on the outside world.

Walter’s attention however was trained on the way your ass was perfectly framed by his t-shirt where it has ridden up as you’d bent over. With your long woolen socks pulled up to your thighs he’d started to grow hard again in his soft sweats, and as if on a SWAT raid he quietly snuck across the room and got to his knees behind you.

The first touch of his lips against your pussy were a shock, but as his large hands gripped your hips you relaxed and arched your back, widening your stance as you knelt on the chair and presented yourself to him like a bitch in heat;

“W-Walter!”

“Hmmmn”

“Someone will see!”

He pulled away for a moment, rising to his feet before kneeling on the chair behind you;

“Its the middle of a blizzard. If anyone is even outside, they aren’t going to be looking up to the fourth floor”

With his body pressed to yours he rutted into you from behind, the obscene bulge in his sweats fitting perfectly in the crease of your ass. Pulling the curtain out of the way you let it drop down to the floor before turning your head, Walter catching your lips with his own for a fierce kiss, before he moved his attention to your neck to suck at the soft skin where it met your collarbone;

“Come to bed, let me keep you warm”

Clumsily getting to your feet, there were kisses and caresses as the pair of you bumped into furniture, neither leading but both eager to get to the soft confines of his massive bed. When you finally reached your destination Walter tumbled first, falling back onto the bed;

“C’mere and sit on my face” he quietly ordered, but you just grinned and slid to your knees, your fingers curling around the waistband of his sweats and tugging them down.

“No, its my turn, Detective”

At the use of his title his dick twitched and grew harder, and as you wrapped your nimble fingers around his hardness he let out a shaky breath of anticipation. Pushing himself up so he could watch, he damn near blew his load the second your warm mouth engulfed him, your tongue working on the thick vein that ran the length of the underside, your hands keeping busy by grasping his shaft and cupping his balls.

You didn’t hold back, hell with a dick this good it would be a crime not to. Once Walter realised you were really going for it he pulled some pillows behind his head so he could lay back and the show, a smile on his lips as he watched you force more of his length into your throat, and he couldn’t help but to lay a hand on the back of your head as he rained down praises;

“Holy fuck your mouth is fucking amazing… Yes, do that thing with your tongue again, oh OH Fuck yes, that… so fucking good… knew you’d been good that this when i watched you inhale that marshmallow cake pop you guys were doing for Halloween…”

At his last comment you had just pushed down as far as you could go when your immediate response was to laugh, as you remembered him walking in just as you were attempting to win a bet with your colleague that you could fit the whole thing of four large marshmallows decorated as pumpkins into your mouth at once, and had managed it just as Walter had walked into the coffee shop.

Pulling off of him you coughed and spluttered, a large hand coming down on your back to pat it before you were pulled up onto the bed and onto his chest;

“You’re fucking adorable, you know that?”

“You’re only saying that ‘cos i can deep throat you”

“True, but you do it adorably. Now come and sit on my face so i can hear some adorable squeals…”

He pulled the pillows away and you straddled his head, his massive hands immediately pressing to your ass and pulling you down onto his waiting mouth, his tongue eager to burrow between your lips. Leaning forwards you wrapped your hand around his dick and took him back into your mouth, the grunts from between your thighs telling you he hadn’t been expecting it but it wasn’t an unwelcome development.

It was now a race, who could get the other to cum first, and as good as Walter was at eating pussy, you were determined to get him to cum before you did. Taking him as deep as you could you swallowed around him, internally smiling to yourself as you heard whimpers from between your thighs as your throat constricted around him. As your hands worked on the rest of his shaft you were a woman on a mission, and when you finally felt that tell-tale tremble you pulled back just a little so he could release into your mouth without suffocating you. His shaft swelled and his hot salty seed flooded your mouth, swallowing around him as he filled it again before finally with a shudder finishing. Lifting your mouth and ass at the same time, you smiled at the string of quiet expletives coming from his lips, moving until you were laying beside him, your head on his chest and his arm naturally around your shoulders;

“You are a devil”

“Yes Detective” you grinned, your smile widening as he rolled you onto your back and kissed you, his hand pushing between your legs and he slid two thick fingers into your soaked hole.

“I just wanted to eat that pussy, and there you go distracting me with your amazing mouth”

You wanted to reply, but his thumb had found your clit and a third finger had slid in alongside the first two, Walter playing your body like a musician played well tuned instrument. His mouth found your breasts and he took one peaked nipple into his mouth, his beard brushing against the soft skin as his tongue worked over the hardened bud. He curled his fingers within you and found that delicious spongy spot, rubbing against it with the pad of his finger, his lips curled into a smile when he felt you getting closer and closer to your orgasm. Pressing kisses to your chest he worked up to your neck, his lips brushing against your ear;

“You gonna cum for me? Can feel you squeezing my fingers, feel so fucking good, gonna soak my hand? Such a pretty little pussy, taking three fingers so well…”

With a scream you came, your body shaking and he immediately kissed you to swallow your cries of pleasure, his hand stilling between your legs before he carefully and gently pulled his fingers out. Tracing a pattern up your stomach with your juices he finally brought them to his mouth and you watched as he licked each one clean as if it was frosting on a cupcake, before leaning forwards and kissing you again.

It was late and in the glow after your orgasm you could feel your eyelids dropping, and with a strong arm draped over your waist Walter pulled your back flush with his chest as the both of you soon fell asleep, the world outside being blanketed in a soft quilt of snow.

Walter lay in bed, one handedly scrolling through his phone, the other hand wrapped around your shoulders where you slept soundly curled up to his side. Apart from a trip to the bathroom around 6am, it was the longest he’d spent in bed for months, even years, and he wasn’t minding it one single bit.

At some point in the night you’d stripped yourself of his loaned t-shirt and your long socks, and when he’d returned from the bathroom he’d seen your ass peeking out from the duvet, and as much as he’d have loved to give it a squeeze, he settled for a few seconds of gratuitous staring before he climbed back into bed beside you sporting a semi.

You stirred beside him, a smile forming on your lips as he watched you stretch and feel your muscles protest after the nights activities. Setting his phone down on the nightstand he ran a fingertip down your cheek, before pressing a kiss to your lips as you woke;

“Mmmm good Morning Detective”

“How is my little muffin this morning?”

Stretching again you winced;

“Sore… but a good sore…” you finally opened your eyes and smiled at him, before your gaze went wide when you saw how light it was, sitting bolt upright in bed; “What time is it?”

Walter glanced at the clock on his phone;

“Almost Nine”

You lept out of bed;

“FUCK… i’m late…”

In a panic you ran around the room trying to find your clothing, pulling your skirt and socks on, before finding your bra hanging from a set of drawers. Pulling at the duvet you scanned the floor;

“Walter, where are my panties?”

“Muffin…. Stop…”

“WALTER, i’m going to be LATE!”

“Sweetie…”

“ARUGH! I cannot go commando all day in a skirt!”

“Oh i don’t know, i like the sound of that…”

You turned and glared at him, but before you could say anything he was out of bed and standing in front of you, his hands resting on your arms;

“Check your phone… the blizzard has shut down half of downtown, the coffee shop’s facebook page said they were closed today around 7am this morning”

You visibly relaxed in his arms, nodding before you quickly ran to the other room and pulled your phone from your coat pocket, smiling when you saw a message from your boss that the shop would be closed due to the snow.

A large pair of arms wrapped around your waist, and you leaned back into Walters embrace;

“You have any idea how horny it makes me knowing you aren’t wearing panties under that skirt?”

Pushing your ass back against him you could feel he’d put sweatpants on, but his meaty dick was growing impressively hard against you;

“I think i can feel how horny you are”

He spun you and lifted you into his arms, walking you back until he could rest your ass on the counter. His lips were on yours as he one handedly pulled his sweats down and you felt the meaty slap of his erection against your inner thigh. Widening your stance you wrapped your hand around him as you pulled him to your core, gasping as his hot flesh speared you. You gasped into his mouth, sharing breaths as he filled you, his forehead pressed to yours. With the tiniest thrusts of his hips he skillfully brought you to orgasm, fucking you straight through it as he angled his hips to drive you crazy again.

Your gaze fell to his naked chest and stomach, watching as his muscles moved as if they were fluid, waves of power rolling as he used the power stored in them to push deep inside you. Snaking a hand between your bodies he rubbed quickly at your clit, his breaths growing short as his thrusts became erratic, pushing you to meet your peaks together so he could relish the feel of your walls gripping him so tight as they milked him of his seed.

With one final thrust you were cuming hard, Walter throwing his head back as he came inside you as you felt him swell and release another load in your waiting womb.

You’d showered alongside Walter after your kitchen escapades, hand and lips exploring each others bodies, but it didn’t go any further than fondling, both of your bodies and minds an equal mix of sore and sated.

Eventually you’d managed to find all your clothing with the exception of your panties, but you had eventually given up on that idea and just accepted you’d have to head home commando much to Walter’s amusement;

“Not to worry, the seats in my truck are heated” he said with a grin as he poured you a cup of coffee and set it onto the counter; “I have to go check on my Daughter later, but can drop you off on the way if you like?”

“Thanks” you smiled before pausing; “You have a daughter?”

Walter let out a quiet laugh;

“Yeah; Faye... sixteen years old and full of attitude. She’s amazing. Lives with her Mother - my ex and the new husband”

“Nice… its nice you’re still on good terms”

“Yeah. So what about you?”

“Me? Oh, no kids. Not really any ex’s to talk of… there hasn’t been anyone important since i moved here eighteen months ago”

“Important… so how would one become important?” he smiled and inched closer to you

“Dinner would always be a start.... And something that isn’t delivered by me is even better…”

“Out or homecooked?”

“You cook?” you laughed as he feighed shock

“Yes, i just don’t always have time to go shopping for groceries…” he wrapped his arms around your waist; “So can i get your number so we can arrange dinner?”

“You sure can”

Two Weeks Later

Cleaning the milk steamer you glared at it as it hissed out hot water, not helping your mood. In fact the mood had been steadily growing over the last ten days.

Walter had shovelled the snow from around his truck and loaded your bike into the back, before carefully driving you home after your night at his place. A heated kiss on your doorstep had only ended when your roommate had opened the door to take the trash out and had interrupted the two of you. You’d swapped numbers and he’d said goodbye, and that afternoon you’d gotten a facebook friend request from him. Three days and nights of messages and chatting had ended with a short ‘new case, speak soon x’ from Walter.

And then nothing. You’d tried not to be offended, you’d spent more hours than you’d like to admit trawling through his sparse facebook profile, seeing that all 26 of his friends were either colleagues or family; and you’d seen his daughter Faye’s picture too. She had his dark curly hair and bright eyes.

Trying not to read too much into it, he was a Detective after all and it could be all manner of things, but what if he was hurt? Or worse? Or… he was just ignoring you? But why would he have added you on social media? You’d spent far too many hours overthinking the whole thing, far too many nights losing sleep.

The sight of a customer standing at the counter drew your attention away from the milk steamer, instead wiping your hands on the cloth that hung from your apron before greeting them with a smile;

“Hey, what can i get for you today?”

“Could i get a non-fat soy latte, with two pumps of hazelnut sugar free syrup?”

“Sure thing, anything else?” you asked as you scribbled her order on the side of the paper cup

“That’s it, thanks”

The young girl went back to looking at her phone as you rang up her order, swiping it over the Apple Pay reader before walking to the end of the counter to the pick up station, still absorbed in her phone.

You were on auto pilot, working through the drink before setting it on the counter;

“Order for Faye”

She looked at you, a grin tugging at the corner of her mouth and you realised what you’d said;

“Shit”

“Yeah… i never gave you my name”

“Fuck”

“Dad says that… a lot”

You were thankful the coffee shop wasn’t busy and there were no other customers waiting to be served as you stumbled on your words;

“I’m so sorry… i’m… friends, with your Dad”

“Yeah i know”

“We… kinda went on a date…”

“Yeah… I know”

“And he added me on facebook… and then hasn’t called. I’m sorry, i just recognised you from your photos of the two of you he has…”

“I. Know.” she said with a grin; “Firstly, you liked one of the photos i was tagged in, so i got the notification. Secondly, i follow you on instagram”

“You do?” you said, shocked.

“Yeah. This shop is on my way to school, i saw the chalk art you did on the windows a few months back and followed you ever since”

“Oh”

“And Dad kept talking about this one coffee shop girl that he liked, and i’m glad he finally asked you out”

Your mood suddenly deflated;

“Yeah, well we had… coffee… and then urh… well he ghosted me”

“No, he’s on a case… he’s undercover”

“Oh!”

Faye leaned forwards on the counter;

“He really likes you. He told me. And the case, whatever that is, i only know because he was meant to be taking me to visit a college last weekend and he had one of his work colleagues get a message to my Mom… he isn’t ghosting you”

You let out a deep breath, the tension slipping away from your body and mind;

“Thanks Faye”

She took her drink a smiled, pushing her ear-bud back in as she started towards the door before calling your name;

“It was good to finally meet you”

Nodding you smiled; “You too Faye… take care”

That night you were settled into your comfiest pyjamas, enjoying the fact you had the apartment couch and TV all to yourself, your roommates catching up on work in their rooms or simply sleeping, so you were surprised when there was a knock at the door. Setting the bowl of popcorn down you called out to ask if anyone had ordered takeout, but with negative answers you frowned before checking the peephole… and letting out a gasp before flinging the door open;

“Walter!”

Standing in the hallway was your favourite detective; SWAT vest still on, the metallic tang of gunshot residue hanging in the air from his sweater and hair. He rubbed the back of his neck nervously;

“Hey Muffin…”

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and pressed your lips to his, the kiss deepening before he finally pulled back just enough to speak;

“Wow… now that’s a warm welcome…” the smile on his face growing; “Seeing as i kinda left you on read without any explanation…”

“Yeah, well Faye came by the coffee shop today and explained…”

“How do you know…?”

“I recognised her from your photos on facebook, and she follows me on instagram, and…” you walked fingers up his chest; “And she told me she had encouraged you to ask me out”

He threw his head back and laughed;

“Kids, they aren’t great at keeping secrets”

Before you could say anything else, one of your roommates called out;

“Hey either take the delivery or refuse it, you’re letting all the heat out of the apartment!” followed by the slam of their bedroom door. Walter turned his attention back to you;

“Well, are you going to accept the delivery or refuse it?”

Taking his hand you pulled him into the apartment;

“I’ll accept it… but don’t expect a tip, the order updates were awful”

“Oh don’t you worry about a tip, i’ll make sure you leave a five star review after what i deliver tonight”

With a slam of the door it was the start of a very sleepless night… for you AND your roommates, but for wildly different reasons.

#Walter Marshall #Walter Marshall x you #Walter Marshall x reader #walter Marshall smut #henry cavill

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venhedish · 3 years ago

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Ven’s Masterlist of SPN Fic

I write mostly pre-series and early seasons Big Feels™ Wincest fic. There’s a lot of angst and pining here, but plenty of love and devotion mixed in with the darkness.

I always deeply, deeply appreciate likes, kudos, comments, and reblogs!

Wincest Fic

Stand-Alone

Yesterday is a Ghost I Believe In ~4.1k, Teen, Pre-series, Epistolary, Multimedia, Experimental There's an old shoebox under Sam Winchester's bed. It's been there almost as long as he can remember. He doesn't look inside it very often, but when he does, he takes his time. A multimedia collection of letters, journal entries, pictures, and other ephemera from a life on the road. .

That Monster, Love ~2k, Teen, Pre-series, POV Outsider, POV John Winchester, John Finds Out, Angst “You think you’re doing your boys any favors, raisin’ ‘em like this?” .

To Cure My Lonesome Blood ~8.8k, Explicit, Pre-series, Pining Dean, Angst, Bittersweet Ending Dean’s been sick since before either of them was born. The disease is incurable, written into his blood – the same blood he shares with his brother. If he’s not careful, the fever will spread like a fire and consume them both. .

Like Sand, Like Water, Like Sunlight ~1.7k, Gen, Pre-series, Mutual Pining, Angst, Pre-Slash Sea birds circle overhead and Dean wishes he had a camera. Sam looks so young, all of twelve years old, and exhilarated. Dean wants to hold this image in the chambers of his heart, but his pulse just carries it along; time is cruel that way. .

The Space Between Sense and Memory ~4.8k, Teen, Pre-series through Season 1, 5-and-1 Things There are a hundred unwritten rules on all the acceptable ways brothers should touch each other. There are hardly any ways at all to break them. Or; five times they follow the rules and one time they don’t. .

Every Goodbye, all at Once ~900, Teen, Pre-series, Stanford Era, Pining Dean, Angst, Epistolary "Hey, It's Sam. If you're looking for my dad, you can reach him at 866-555-9352. If you're looking for me, leave a message." A series of voicemails Dean leaves at the number Sam left behind. .

Breathe You In (Choke You Down) ~6k, Explicit, Season 01, PWP, Scent Kink, Guilty Dean Winchester Once Sam was gone, Dean missed him in a way that was all-consuming, all the way down – so deep in his bones that he shook with loneliness some nights. And it was the familiar scent of his brother’s hair where it tangled warm against the pillows, his pulse beating under his skin and sending the fear of the hunt wafting off of him in waves that Dean struggled to hold onto the hardest. Dean really likes the way Sam smells.. .

Dawn is Coming (Open Your Eyes) ~5k, Explicit, Season 01, Hurt/Comfort, Getting Back Together In which Sam and Dean suffer new wounds and stitch old ones back together. There’s an awful storm, a dead monster, an injury, and a whole lot of feelings. .

You put the Magic in Me ~9.1k, Explicit, Season 02(ish), Sex Pollen, Porn with Plot, Casefic “This is the weirdest thing we’ve ever done for a case,” Dean says under his breath, leaning into Sam and scouting the crowd gathered around a dozen tables inside the little café. “Dude, relax,” Sam says back, eyebrows raising at his brother’s nervous energy. “I thought this would be, like, your thing.” He gestures vaguely to the women milling around inside. A long, vividly red banner hangs across the open french doors that lead into the space, emblazoned with the words The Oolong Tea Room Presents: Lonely Hearts Club Speed Dating! Feb 11-14th! Or; in which Sam and Dean learn a thing or two about chemistry. .

The Stars are not Wanted Now ~2k, Teen, Season 02, Episode Tag: s02e21 All Hell Breaks Loose, Angst, Death Rituals There was a body on the bed. It had been there long enough that the slanting light of morning crept into the room like an unwelcome invader and washed the world in a dream-shade of palest blue. But there were no dreams here; only death, only memory. The body on the bed was all that remained of Samuel Winchester, who had died in his brother’s arms the night before. .

Demi-Gods and Hungry Ghosts ~5.8k, Explicit, Season 03, Episode Tag: s03e11 Mystery Spot, Dark, Dub-con, Hurt No Comfort This dream-state of living on pause and rewind leads to some interesting avenues of thought that Sam doesn’t mean to travel, but after a certain number of unrelenting Tuesdays, they just become inevitable. If Dean dies every day—if his memories are wiped, or if they never happen at all—what could Sam get away with, if he wanted to? Could he dare to find out? .

In Sanguine Vita Est ~5.2k, Explicit, Season 04, Knifeplay, Dean’s Hell Trauma, Hurt/Comfort Everything was different now. Dean was here—back from the fucking dead—but he was a stranger in his own body. Scars gone, aches from broken bones that hadn’t set right vanished back into the void as if they’d never existed at all. He’d become a stranger to the whole world. He’d become a stranger to Sam. _ Dean asks Sam to help him heal after he returns from Hell. .

All Heartless Spectres, Happiness ~5.7k, Explicit, Season 06, Episode Tag: s06e06 You Can’t Handle the Truth, POV Outsider, Angst, Soulless Sam Lisa Braeden receives an email with the subject line, "You Deserve to Know." It contains a single video file and nothing else. .

The Rungs of Me be Under You ~1.6k, Teen, Gencest, Post-Bunker, 2nd Person POV, Queerplatonic Sam and Dean, Non-Sexual Kink What they share has never been easy to define. Why should this be any different? .

Wincest Series The Top/Bottom Discourse Series (Ongoing) [Each story is canon compliant and listed chronologically, but they can all be read as standalone works.] This series was born originally from a silly meta post I made on Tumblr as a response to some very angry top/bottom discourse I was seeing about how only Sam could truly be A Top™, or how only Dean could truly be A Top™. I personally like to kink and let kink and not drag outdated gender politics into my fandom (Dean can't be a bottom because he's too masculine? Ice cold take, bro), so I wrote a filthy little tongue-in-cheek post about all the ways I think Sam and Dean have fucked each other over the years.

I’m Thinking About Whatever You’re Thinking About ~5.1k, Explicit, Pre-series, PWP, Bratty Sam, Exhibitionism, Fear of Discovery Sam is such a brat, sometimes. .

Shoot to Thrill ~6.7k, Explicit, Season 02, Porn with Plot, Hustling, Getting Back Together It's just like riding a bike. .

Burn Out The Night ~4.9k, Explicit, Season 08, Porn with Plot, Car Sex, Light BDSM, Fluff What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. .

Destiel Fic

Love Made a Martyr of Me ~500, Teen, Season 05, Endverse, Past Sam/Dean, Angst Sam says yes in Detroit, and in the space of a single syllable, there's nothing left in Heaven or on Earth for Dean to love. Cas doesn't seem to care. .

The Sharp Teeth of the One You Love ~2k, Teen, Season 05, Endverse, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Pining “Quit bein’ a baby, Cas.” Dean’s hands were covered in blood, but they were steady as always while he worked to stitch Castiel back together. “I’m sorry,” Cas growled between gritted teeth. “I don’t exactly have a lot of experience feeling pain.” He hissed again when Dean slid the curved needle back through the eight-inch-long gash that ran deep and bloody down Cas’s bicep. Castiel learns something about what it means to be human. .

Wincestiel Fic

Temerate ~700, Teen, Season 05(ish), Past Sam/Dean, 2nd Person POV, First Time Your brother is sitting in the corner of the motel room. His big hands are worrying at each other; he squeezes them together, fingertips white from the pressure of his grip. He meets your eyes and his gaze is like a lightning strike. .

Dean/John Fic

Cruore ~1.1k, Mature, Pre-series, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Blood, Intrusive Thoughts Bites, Dean could deal with – claw marks and broken bones. But this- ... a bullet was a different kind of monster altogether. .

Supernatural RPF

Il Cielo in Una Stanza ~4.4k, Explicit, Jensen Ackles/Jared Padalecki, Getting Back Together, Prequel-Gate, Polyamory, Non-AU Jared Padalecki receives a present he wasn't expecting at all for his 39th birthday. .

Other Supernatural Fic

Bad Things, Better Reasons ~2k, Explicit, Pre-series, Dean Does Sex Work, Angst, Brotherly Love. Dean does whatever it takes to keep the bills paid while John is gone. The kid waiting for him back at the motel room is all the justification he’ll ever need. .

No Was Her Name ~1.3k, Teen, Season 12, Dean/Mary, Light Angst, First Kiss Mary Winchester was alive. She was solid—made of skin and blood and bone—and she existed in the same world as Dean. It wasn’t a dream; she walked and talked and breathed. She ate, she slept, she wandered the halls of the bunker at odd hours. She was a ghost made flesh, and Dean was haunted by her presence. .

#ven creates #wincest #wincestiel #destiel #J2 #daddycest #spn fic #fic masterlist #my fic #long post #sorry #i just wanna be able to link to it in my bio

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ellasadventuresinfandoms · 3 years ago

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Okay, back in May @isolatedphenomenon asked me if I had an les mis fic recs and I went "oh boy do I !" and then promptly fucked off and disappeared from tumblr for like 6 months...

Anyway on the off chance people are interested, here is my vastly too long list of my favourite les mis fanfic (that I'm almost 100% sure I'll have accidentally missed some of my favourites off of...)

The vast majority of these are main pairing Enjolras/Grantaire, so I've put those first, divided into multi-chaptered and then one-shots. Below that will be other pairings!

Multi-chaptered

• Witch Boy Series : magic AU, starting with Grantaire solving Enjolras' curse - this is just Incredible world building which gets better as it goes on - my favourite is the Babet interlude

• World Ain't Ready : you know how fandoms tend to have a fic that is just associated with it ? in my experience, for les mis this is it - and well deserved ! High school, fake dating AU with some of the most engaging writing

• BE : Enjolras is dragged back into theatre production, helping Eponine put on a production of Hamlet - really love the characterisation in this, and this is really one of those modern AUs that actually feels like real life - really good writing

• After the End : the definitive apocalypse AU in my eyes - les amis are an underground resistance to the dystopian government - really wonderful characterisation of Grantaire and the amis

• You never have to wonder; you never have to ask. : I tend to find fic by scrolling through bookmarks of a pairing, which means I often see repeats; this is a fic that if I see I just re-read cause I know I'll enjoy it - the amis sparked a failed rebellion, and now 18 months later Grantaire ends up staying at Enjolras' after returning to Paris for Marius and Cosette's wedding

• Your Heart on Your Skin : Soulmate AU with flower tattoos marking important emotions and events - wonderful concept and world building

• Impatient to Be Free : Daughters of Bilitis AU - if that doesn't make you excited I don't know what else to say to convince you (aside from saying the author is a simply wonderful writer)

• You Dance Dreams : Okay. Not to be over dramatic, but this fic did genuinely qualitatively change my life, in that it was the first thing that got me looking up contemporary ballet and now that's like one of my favourite things and big hobby So. Also its really great writing; music/creative arts school les amis with Grantaire choreohraphing the ballet for Combeferre's opera, with a heavy emphasis on Grantaire realising he really never actually got over Enjolras

• philia : this one is an absolute classic to me, but not given nearly enough recognition - one of the more realistic college AUs ever written, and the writing of Grantaire is so good because it hits the perfect balance of sympathy and annoyance about his behaviour (that's a genuine compliment)

• Coffee Hooligans : fucking tragedy this never got properly finished, Enjolras leads the amis as social justice vigilantes and tries to hide the criminal bits of his life from R

• Fighting the Hurricane : Pacific Rim AU that's less an AU and more just placing the les mis characters in the Pacific Rim universe. Really good and riveting read, also super interesting depiction of Grantaire

• Weaving Olden Dances : Fairy AU - Grantaire "claims" Enjolras to prevent his execution - really good writing, love Grantaires characterisation

• Paris Burning : canon era (sort of) where cities have a physical being - Grantaire is Paris and becomes entangled in Enjolras' revolution - oh the world building is truly *chefs kiss*

• Euphoria is You For Me : Enjolras and Grantaire keep meet cuting in a wonderfully written Brooklyn - feels like a love letter to Brooklyn at times, and I really like the characterisation of Grantaire

• so please just fall in love with me this christmas : Enjolras works for the environmental company Grantaire volunteers at, and keeps getting secret gifts at Christmas - I sound a little like a broken record but the Grantaire characterisation is very good

• You Are the Moon : Wild West esque Space AU - Grantaire has to call on the amis to help rescue Valjean and Cosette, despite Grantaire leaving the amis 6 months before. On re-reading the Enjolras characterisation feels a little rushed, but overall fantastic story telling and the Grantaire arc is a Delight

• Pandemos : Enjolras is aphrodite, and seeks peace from all his suitors in R/Hephestus' cave

• Pining for You : Hallmark christmas romance - Grantaire returns home to work on his father's tree farm, and Enjolras is the lawyer helping prevent the farm being sold - cute as shit imo

• Once We're Kings : Fantasy AU - a country hosts a ball to marry Prince Enjolras and the rival country sends Grantaire as a fuck you - one of the best ways of doing Enjolras as a prince in a fantasy and just really nicely written

• Never Bitter and All Delicious : Fairy Godmother AU - yes really, yes its genuinely a very good read

• On One Condition : Fantasy AU - Enjolras is a bored knight who finally goes to check out the local dragon, which turns out to be Grantaire - I really like how they capture Enjolras' stubborn nature and it's such a well written soft growth of love between them

• That's How Easy Love Can Be : Les Amis work at a primary school; and its secret santa time! very fun portrayal of Enjolras

• The Lark and Her Lieutenants : re write of canon where Cosette is the leader of the revolution - just *chefs kiss*

• If You Tickle Us, Do We Not Laugh : Grantaire is Enjolras' secret android - really good at writing a relationship that's incredibly loving but just keeps being antagonistic and coming off wrong

One Shots

• True Colours : AU where you leave colours on the people important to you - Enjolras and Grantaire falling for each other is so soft and gently written its lovely, this is genuinely one of my favourites

• Keep It Kind, Keep It Good, Keep It Right : this one is so good to me, because it builds off my pet hatred of everyone assuming Enjolras doesn't care about (or at least actively show he cares about) his friends

• blooming : very soft post-dystopian utopia that has just a really wonderful sense of hope and light to me

• and the wall leaned away (or: The Pros and Cons of Tilling) : perfectly realised characterizations of the amis, Grantaire needs a date to her final year art exhibition - deals with anxiety over protest in a way that actually hits for me

• not just one of the crowd : R helps run a leftist bakery and bike repair shop - very cute characterisation, and I think more les mis fanfic should link to anarchist essays

• Lovesickness : Enjolras is an idiot and thinks he's sick rather than having a crush - the writing of Joly and Combeferre in this is some of my favourite depictions of these two

• If there's a rocket, tie me to it : absolutely heartbreaking sci-fi AU about the amis as doomed mecha pilots

• Where I Fall is Where I Land : Enjolras is a Roman commander as Rome's power is leaving England, and then meets the pict Grantaire (+ fun soulmark stuff !)

• You Started Foreign to Me : Enjolras moves to america and R is the overnight grocery clerk who helps her learn Spanish - cute fluffy lesbians with a wonderfully written driven Enjolras

• Love Is Touching Souls : very cute soulmate AU - and one I really love for really truly considering the implications of soul marks and creating historical lore around it

• Ten Years : R is a musician, and it non-linearly charts his relationship to Enj from high school to 10 years later

• put up with me then I'll make you see : Grantaire lives above Enjolras, and its christmas - I find it to have a very fun interpretation of pining Enjolras

• A Cat Called Trash Can : this was one of the first les mis fics I ever read (yes I know it says it was published in 2020, but I think it has to be a re-upload or something?) and it does still have a special place in my heart - Grantaire rescues a cat, but Enjolras is the only one with an apartment free to look after it

• Still I'm Begging to Be Free : inception AU where les amis have to rescue a sleeping R from his own brain

•I'm in it for You : cw: illness, cancer - R has cancer and is being a martyr about telling his friends so Enjolras drives him back from chemo

• walls come tumbling down : sky high au - a very good high school AU with the perfect level of campy superhero powers

• This brave new world's not like yesterday : Enjolras needs a job, so ends up working in a bowling alley with Grantaire and bonding

Enjolras/Grantaire/Combeferre

• In Defiance of All Geometry : les amis are a student co-op house, Enjolras and Combeferre are pining friends and Grantaire is the newbie

• Still the Same : this is very good writing and very compelling - if you can get over the (imo) plot hole of Enjolras working for the FBI. R was an art thief Enj put away and is briefly helping the FBI out, and Combeferre is Enjolras' husband

• To Kingdom Come : cw: war and PTSD from that, Enjolras and Combeferre are part of a group of refugees that have crossed into a more fantasy land, and Grantaire is a lone traveller from that land that attempts to help - that was a shit summary of this very emotional, wonderfully written fic about war and love in all forms

• Gonna need (a spark to ignite) : I always love a twist on a classic trope, and this is a very fun take on the soulmate AU - Enjolras loses feeling in his soul mark as a child, falls in love with Grantaire and then his soulmate, Combeferre, turns up

Eponine/Cosette

• Pretty Girls Don't Know the Things That I Know : simply stunning writing - perfect example of soft writing about a harsh world

• she knows her way around : Eponine and Cosette bond, ostensibly so Eponine can find out about her for Marius, and their interactions are so playful and realistic, its wonderful

• always find me floating on oceans : Cosette stows away on Eponine's pirate ship - I do always have a soft spot for eposette fics (not just cause I ship it) because they truly characterise Cosette in a really considered and interesting way

• There's No Making Love : I'm putting this under eposette even though there is some significant enjolras/grantaire content, because the Cosette characterisation is so fun and cute

• round and round again : this fic really beautifully translates Cosette's bad childhood and then isolated teenage years, and the impact that would have on her as an adult into a modern AU

• Underwater Thunderheards : this is based off the book The Scorpio Races, and is just a really nice short fic about longing

• How To Change The World Without Taking Power : Marius has a crush on Cosette and she's tried being polite and subtle in turning him down, so just ends up fake dating Eponine instead

• blood red fruit and poison's kiss : Snow White AU - Cosette as Snow White

• The Winters Cannot Fade Her : Snow White Au 2.0 - Eponine as Snow White - this was written as a pair to the one above which is just so cute to me

• marriage à la mode : Cosette and Eponine run a bridal shop together and it's very cute !

• Temporary Hold : I personally find this a really fun and very unique take on Cosette - with exams coming up she decides she needs to get laid on the reg and so hits up Eponine to act as if they're already long term girlfriends

Combeferre/Courfeyrac

• better than you had it : fake dating but kick it up an emotional notch - Courf and Ferre pretend to still be together after breaking up for a family event

• take flight, come near : nice and cute low fantasy, where Combeferre runs a dragon sanctuary and Courf finds an injured dragon

Rare Pairs

• The Future's Owned by You and Me : cute Enjolras/Feuilly with actual radical politics and real life organising difficulties and wins

• First Dates and Other Dangers : Combeferre and Grantaire agree to go on a blind date and it's awkward until it isn't - just cute !

• after midnight : Combeferre has insomnia and meets Grantaire in various all night fast food chains

• as you are : Bahorel and Jehan getting ready together

• Almost Romantic : Jehan works at a museum, and takes Combeferre on a little tour

• Understudy : Jehan/Combeferre, with Combeferre's insecurities regarding being seen as second best to Enjolras

• Here There Be Dragons : Courf/Enj/Ferre - Courf and Enj are superheroes and Ferre is the doctor that patches them up

• To Let it Occur (Laisser Faire la Nature) : Feuilly has a stupidly long stopover in Paris and meets Enjolras

• rule of three : Courf/Enj/Ferre as spies and loving boyfriends

• Good Rhetoric : snapshots of cute cuddly courf/enj/ferre

• subluxate, dislocate, replace : found family and chronic illness with Joly/Bossuet/Musichetta

• Strike stone, strike home (like lightning) : so this fic took one minor piece of lore about Tolkien's dwarves and made a beautiful j/b/m fic from it

• Almost Inevitable : Bahorel/Feuilly friends-with-benefits

• god only knows (what I'd be without you) : Bahorel/Feuilly with a closeted Feuilly and a beautiful Feuilly and Eponine friendship

#les miserables #fanfic rec #les mis #les miserables fanfic #les miserables fanfic rec

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buckybeardreams · 3 years ago

Text

Unwanted

Chapters: 11/11

Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)

Rating: Mature

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark

Characters: Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson (Marvel), Brock Rumlow, James "Bucky" Barnes, Clint Barton, Harley Keener

Additional Tags: Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alpha Steve Rogers, Omega Tony Stark, Service Top, Dominant Bottom, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Virgin Steve Rogers, Brock Rumlow is a Good Bro, Sam Wilson Is a Good Bro, Romantic Soulmates, First Meetings, Angst with a Happy Ending, Sappy, Romantic Fluff, Awkwardness, Drinking to Cope, Self-Worth Issues, Insecure Tony Stark, Insecure Steve Rogers, Age Difference, Harley Keener is Tony Stark's Biological Child, Bonding, Claiming Bites, Claiming, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mpreg, Non-Explicit Sex, Light Dom/sub, Mutual Masturbation, Coming Untouched, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Wordcount: 10.000-30.000, Knotting

Series: Part 1 of Second Chances

Summary:

Steve is a soft Alpha and Tony is an in charge kind of Omega with no desire to find a mate. He doesn't want to find his soulmate and when he does meet Steve he's determined to stay away from him.

That is until he realizes just how right they are for each other.

Ch 1 Ch 2 Ch 3 Ch 4 Ch 5 Ch 6 Ch 7 Ch 8 Ch 9 Ch 10 Ch 11

Part 2 is now out and the first chapter can be read on tumblr or ao3.

Words: 1,406

"I can't believe we were both right." Tony shook his head.

The baby was a boy with a light dusting of blond hair on his head and startling blue eyes that stared up at them all sparkling and full of wonder as he took in all of the new sights around him.

"He's beautiful," Steve murmured.

Tony hummed in agreement, pulling the baby closer to sniff his head and take in that baby scent that seems to cling to all young pups. They were still just staring at their baby in awe when he started to cry and Tony's nipples started to leak, wet spots forming on his shirt.

"I think I'm gonna have to walk around shirtless for the next few years," Tony said with a sigh.

Steve glanced at him in surprise as Tony passed the baby off to Steve and stripped off his shirt.

"I have no complaints there, but you do realize he's only gonna stay a baby for like one maybe two years max."

Tony gave him a look.

"Don't question my parenting methods, Alpha. You're not the one who carried this thing in them for nine months and you didn't have to deal with him jumping on your bladder either. So I get to make all the decisions when it comes to how we're gonna raise him."

"Yeah, but I'm gonna be the one staying home with him."

"I know and I'm very grateful, but if you have any questions you can just call me."

Steve nodded, because there was nothing else to say about it. If Tony said this was the way it was going to be, then this was the way it was going to be.

"I'm gonna get hard if you keep bossing me around."

"Good, we can get started on trying for the next one," Tony teased, taking the crying baby back and coaxing him to latch onto his nipple.

Steve's eyes widened and he looked scared at the thought.

"Another one? Already?" Steve squeaked.

Tony just giggled.

"I'm just kidding, Alpha. We'll wait until I stop breastfeeding this little guy and then we can try for another one. Until then, I'm going on the pill."

Steve nodded.

"Cool. That's, um, cool," Steve said awkwardly. "It's not like I'm against having another one. It's just- I'm still not sure what we're gonna do with this one."

Tony smiled softly and kissed his cheek, still cradling Harley to his chest while he suckled at his nipple.

"You're gonna be a great daddy, Steve," Tony promised.

Steve grinned at him and leaned down to kiss him.

"And don't worry about not knowing what you're doing. I'm an Omega so I have the instincts for these kinds of things."

"Yeah, but I'm not an Omega."

"I know that, but you didn't know what you were doing when we first started fucking, but I taught you how to please me and I'll teach you how to do this too."

Steve blushed bright red.

"You said I did good!" Steve squeaked.

"You did. You were eager to please and what you lacked in skill you made up for by being cute."

"What I lacked?" Steve said, his ego clearly bruised.

Tony rolled his eyes.

"Yes, Steve. You were a virgin and the way we play goes against most all of your instincts, so it took some time for you to learn. There's nothing wrong with that. I'm a very experienced teacher and you learned quickly how to get me off, so no harm done."

"Tony!" Steve squeaked.

"What? Don't worry about it. You're much better now."

Steve just scoffed and shook his head.

"Yeah, whatever," Steve grumbled. "I'm gonna go start dinner."

Tony sighed as he walked away, but his attention quickly turned to Harley.

"As soon as you can hold your head up, I'm gonna let your daddy take you for a ride on the bike that you were named after," Tony cooed at him.

The baby didn't respond of course, still happily suckling at Tony's flat chest, but he did look up at his mom like he was aware of what Tony was talking about. Tony smiled softly at him and brushed a finger over his cheek.

"You're gonna be the most spoiled, loved, happiest baby in the world Harley. I promise," Tony murmured.

*****

Steve was still pouting when they went to bed that night, Harley curled up in between them. Tony really didn't think he would be so hurt by the comment, since in many ways Steve didn't seem like an Alpha. Sure, he was protective and he had a knot, but for the most part he acted more like an Omega, at least when it was just the two of them.

Tony wasn't stupid though. He knew he had upset him and he sighed when Steve kept peering at him through his lashes, a pout on his lips, looking away anytime Tony looked his way.

"Steve," Tony groaned, scooping Harley up and gently laying him back down so he was now sleeping by the wall instead of in between them.

They had pushed the bed up against the wall, because Tony had read that was the safest way to co-sleep.

"Alpha. My pretty, pretty, Alpha. I love you so much, you know that right?"

Steve didn't respond, he just bit his lip and fidgeted with the sheets. Tony groaned again and pushed him flat on his back, climbing on top of him.

"Steve, look at me," Tony ordered, knowing that Steve wouldn't disobey him.

He smirked when Steve's eyes snapped up to meet his instinctually.

"There you go, pretty Alpha. Such a good boy you are, Alpha," Tony purred. "I'm sorry that I upset you, but you don't get to just pout about it. If there's something wrong you have to tell me. You don't get to keep things from me, Alpha, because you're mine. You understand?"

Steve bit his lip, his eyes darting away from Tony's, but returning when Tony growled softly in that way that wasn't quite a growl but still managed to come off as a warning.

"Yes, sir. I understand."

"Good. You're so good for me, Alpha. I didn't mean to upset you and I shouldn't have teased you like that. It was mean. Can you forgive me?"

Steve whimpered, pouting.

"I'm still an Alpha, you know. I know that I'm not like other Alphas, but I still have pride, Tony."

"Aw, I know you do and I like that you're not like other Alphas. I won't do it again, okay?"

Steve chewed on his lip for a moment, considering something.

"Um, Tony?"

"Hm?"

"Do you think you could maybe do it again, but maybe while we're, you know, mating?"

Tony raised his brow at him.

"Really? You want me to humiliate you, Alpha?"

Steve licked his lips nervously, nodding. His cheeks were bright red, but Tony could feel his dick hardening.

"Maybe just a little?"

Tony chuckled and kissed him.

"Yeah, I could do that, but not now. Sam and Brock are watching Harley this Friday and I'll take you apart then, okay, baby?"

Steve whined, his hips rocking up.

"Please, sir."

"Shh, not now," Tony murmured. "Don't wake the baby or I'll be punishing you on Friday."

Steve whined again, but he wrapped his arms around Tony when he slipped off of him and pressed back until his ass was snug against the erection in Steve's sweats. Steve squirmed and Tony smirked, shifting slightly just to hear him whine again, the sound muffled as he ducked to hide his head in Tony's neck.

"I love you, Alpha," Tony teased, his voice sugary sweet.

"I hate you," Steve mumbled into his neck and Tony wriggled his hips just to punish him.

"Be good, Alpha, or I'll make you regret it."

Steve sucked at his neck, his hips rutting forward at the threat.

"I love you, Tony. My pretty Omega. I don't know how I got so lucky."

"I don't know how you got so lucky either. I'm a catch," Tony teased.

Steve rolled his eyes affectionately and kissed Tony's cheek.

"You really are."

Tony smiled softly, a light blush on his cheek. His eyes landed on their baby in his sleep sack, laying on top of their thin covers. He doesn't know how he got to be so lucky as to end up with a perfect mate and a perfect pup.

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itsukkie · 4 years ago

Text

On My Mind

Characters: Tsukishima Kei x Reader

Words: 3.1k

Genre: fluff :)

Summary: How long is it going to take for Tsukkishima to get over himself and finally confess to you? Five times Tsukki wanted to kiss you + the first time he did.

Edited?: nope

a/n: I’m new to tumblr! I’ve never written my own fic before. I mostly wrote this to cope with my own yearning... If you have any suggestions for how to improve my writing or formatting please let me know.

You never liked chemistry, but that’s why Tsukishima was there. You were fully capable of understanding the material by yourself but Tsukki didn’t have a great deal of faith in your patience.

You groaned slumping back into the kitchen chair and stared at the sheet in front of you. What were you doing wrong? Tsukishima could tell you were getting frustrated by the way your cheeks were flushed and the way your hands were tangled in your own hair as you racked your brain for the right answer. Tsukki briefly glanced at you, studying the way you furrowed your brows and pursed your lips while thinking before silently returning to his own work. Although his eyes were focused on his own work in front of him, he wondered why you hadn’t caved already and asked for his help.

“Tsukki-,” you looked over at him.

“Do it yourself,” he replied, not even glancing up from his English homework. You let out a small huff. Why did he do that? He wanted to help you. He wanted to lean over your shoulder and feel the warmth of your back pressing against his chest and smell the honey tones of your shampoo. He wanted to see if he could make you flustered by whispering in your ear. But more than anything he wanted to see up close the look in your eyes when he told you that you were correct. So why did he do that?

Maybe he could just walk to your side and lean over the table, using his hand to guide your face to look at his. How would you react if he leaned down and pressed his lips to your forehead, pulling you into his chest? Would your body relax under his if he whispered sweet affirmations, letting you know just how smart and amazing he thought you were?

But before Tsukki could act on any of his daydreams the front door thrashed open. You looked up to see Hinata and Kageyama panting, kneeling at your front door catching their breath.

“I touched the door first,” Kageyama uttered in between shaky breaths.

“I was first inside though!” Hinata yelled, getting up from the floor and walking toward the kitchen where you and Tsukki sat. “Y/N! Thank you once again for tutoring us on a weekend,” he said through a toothy smile.

Tsukishima sighed as he watched you close your chemistry textbook and greet his two annoying teammates. Pulling his headphones from around his shoulder and onto his ears, he tapped his foot to the sound of soft lofi music. But no matter how loud he set the volume, he couldn’t drown out the sound of your intoxicating voice.

Tsukishima will deny the fact that he was eagerly awaiting your call when he heard a new art exhibition opened up in town. Of course he’d never have the guts to ask you himself, he just always counted on you to make the first move.

That’s why both of you stood in front of a canvas encased in an elegant gold frame. Your eyes were fixed on the painting, and given the fact the tickets were 2000 yen Tsukki should’ve also been relishing in the beauty of the exhibit. But he just couldn’t take his eyes off you. The headphones that were wrapped around his head were silent, the calming voice of the tour guide on pause, preferring to hear you talk about how you read about this painting in an art history book.

He loved the way your wide eyes sparkled, even in the dim lighting of the exhibit. When you walk forward, hoping to get a better view of the detail work, a gold ray of light, reflected off the statue standing behind you, makes its way onto your face, and Tsukishima swears you are the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. With all the people crowded in the exhibit he wonders why no one has yet to stop in front of you to admire you the way he does. And when your mouth slowly curls up into a smile he basks in your magnetism.

He’s thankful you’re wearing headphones, listening to the virtual tour guide, because he forces himself to take a deep breath to stop himself from wrapping his hand around your waist and pulling you into him. He wants to tell you just how grateful he is that you always ask him to come with you to visit new showcases, even though he rarely pays attention to the actual exhibit. He thinks to himself that this is probably the most romantic place to kiss you right now. But he holds back, turning on his heels and walking to the next painting.

You were a smug little brat. Look at you smiling at him from across the classroom, your shoulders rolled back and your chest puffed up with confidence. Debate was Tsukki’s least favourite class activity given his natural aversion to public speaking. But in the moment Tsukishima barely realized that all eyes were on him as he stood at the podium, because how could he focus when you were right there, standing across from him, refuting his arguments one by one?

Tsukishima kept his usual cool outer appearance but he just wished he could let everyone know how proud he was whenever you delivered an especially cruel line. Look at them, that’s the one I love, and they’re smarter than any of you. Of course it was just as fun watching you get flustered, stumbling over your own words trying to formulate your response to his remarks.

Something about watching you argue ignited a fire under Tsukishima. You were throwing facts and evidence at him, smirking as the class banged their fists against their desks in support after every point you made. But Tsukki long forgot about his classmates, not even addressing them in his speech, he was only talking to you.

You kept looking toward your peers, staring them in the eyes as you spoke with charisma. Look at me, Tsukki thought. He wanted you to look him in the eyes while you demolished his arguments. Watching your self-satisfied smile, he wanted to shut your mouth the one way he knew would make you stop talking. What would happen if he snuck his hand into your hair, pulled you to his chest and forced you to look up at him? Would you still have all the confidence you do now?

Tsukishima let a small smile form on his lips. You were too smart for your own good.

Tsukishima doesn’t understand why you prefer studying at a library when home is so much more comfortable. Plus, if you guys had just stayed home he wouldn’t have needed to walk in the freezing cold winter air with you to get home. But he agreed to coming with you anyway because for some reason it’s just too hard to say no to you.

At least his hands were warmed by the coffee cups he held in his hands. You were beaming about how you heard this place sells the best hot chocolate when you guys passed it. Now you were putting your wallet back in your bag as Tsukki held both of the cups for you. He remarks to himself that one day he’ll pay for both of you. When you grab your cup you shoot him a smile as you keep walking down the sidewalk. You take a large sip and yelp at the scorching temperature of the drink, your tongue now feeling numb.

“Idiot,” Tsukki utters, watching you fan your tongue.

“Okay I probably should’ve let it cool down a bit, but it was so worth it, try it.”

Tsukki glances down at your eager eyes and reluctantly lifts the cup to his mouth. Closing his eyes he slowly takes a small sip, careful not to burn himself and that’s when he hears your roaring laughter. When he looks down he sees what you’re giggling over. His vision was impaired, his glasses completely fogged up from the steam of his hot chocolate. Of course he couldn’t see you but he was sure you were relishing in how stupid he looked in that moment, but hearing your laugh he thought to himself that it might just be worth it.

Still giggling you stand on your tippy toes and pull his glasses from off his face. Tsukishima is startled, although he doesn’t show it. He watches your blurry figure clean his glasses on your jacket before watching you slowly come into focus as you gently lay them atop his ears again. He realizes just how close your face is to him, he realizes how precariously you’re standing. If you were to lose balance you’d fall right into his chest, or maybe your lips might even collide with his.

“What’re you thinking?” You ask, stepping back to look up at him. What is he thinking? He was thinking of how stunning you looked with snowflakes lightly decorating your hair and your nose and cheeks dusted red from the cold air. He was thinking about pulling you back up to where you were, holding onto your cheek and your waist and leaning down to press a soft kiss to your lips.

“It’s mediocre at best,” he scoffs and continues walking. You feign a hurt face and quickly catch up to him. He thinks that tasting the hot chocolate from your lips would make it infinitely better.

Tsukki wanted to kill whoever was knocking on his cabin door at 1am. He was already exhausted from all the hiking, climbing, and biking he had done the day before. Tomorrow morning his year would make their way back to school and Tsukishima hated sleeping on the bus.

He groaned as he stood up from his bed, walking past a groggy Yamaguchi who also heard the soft knocks at the door. He opened it, looking through squinted eyes, and was unsurprised when he was met with the wide awake eyes of Hinata and Yachi, and a yawning Kageyama who lazily propped himself against the cabin wall. But he was shocked to see you with them, standing in your plaid pajama bottoms and an oversized hoodie.

“Do you wanna go stargazing?” You asked, jumping up and down to keep yourself warm

Was that even a question? He hates to admit to himself how many times he has imagined a moment like this with you.

“It’s way past curfew, we’re gonna get in trouble.” Tsukishima heard himself reply in a raspy voice. Yamaguchi poked his head out from behind Tsukki, seeing what all the commotion was about.

“We checked the teachers’ cabin and they’re all asleep, and we’ll be quiet.” Hinata was beaming with excitement. He wanted to try playing on the beach volleyball court.

“Is it even possible for you to be quiet?” Tsukki glared, leaving Yamaguchi lightly chuckling.

“Please,” you pleaded, making the saddest puppy eyes you could. How could he not say yes to your wide and playful smile? Before he knew it, he had thrown on a sweater and was quietly running along the dirt path. The six of you giggled and hushed each other as you made your way to the open field.

Tsukishima felt his heart stop completely when you took his hand, making him run alongside you after you noticed him lagging behind. Your laugh was the most contagious thing he’s ever heard.

You two laid on the grass looking up at the clear night sky. You explained astrology to him while he rolled his eyes, and he explained the physics behind star formation. You had read about constellations and the Greek mythology behind them, and as you passionately ranted to him about the fresh-water serpent Hydra while pointing to the sky, he never lifted his eyes from your face. He noticed a few of your moles and freckles that dotted your side-profile, and in his head he created his own myth behind the creation of your constellation.

You felt his gaze on your side-profile and when you turned your head to face him, his heart dropped and his hands twitched as they longed to reach out and brush through your hair.

“What?” You smiled at him. Tsukishima wanted to tell you that you looked beautiful and that, despite all his best efforts, he had hopelessly fallen in love with you. Just look at you. You were so beautiful in the moonlight. He wished he could stare at you all night long, he wished the sun would never come out and he could lay there by your side forever.

“You have dirt on your face,” he coldly let out, wiping at your chin and pretending to wipe the dirt of his finger before turning away from you to look back up. You muttered an embarrassed ‘thanks’ not even noticing the way his fingertips lingered on your cheek before looking back up as well.

You both had turned silent, and Tsukishima was angry at himself for ruining the moment. He wished he was braver and bolder, he wanted the confidence to tell you how actually felt. But before he could think about it more, Hinata came running over, pulling you up from the ground and leading you to where Yamaguchi and Yachi found a frog.

As Hinata tugged you away, running at lightning speed, you barely had the chance to look back at Tsukishima, who had sat up, watching you talk to his teammates. He dug the heels of his hand into his eyes, sighing before looking up at the moon.

“The moon is beautiful isn’t it?” He whispered to himself.

Tsukishima wasn’t himself today. How was he supposed to be when you weren’t there? He stared out the window all day instead of teasingly kicking the back of your chair, throwing playful notes onto your desk when the teacher wasn’t looking. How was he supposed to focus on the lecture when you weren’t there to motivate him? Lunchtime was quieter than usual. He listened to Yamaguchi rant about this new anime he had started and stared silently at his shortcake. He missed the way you’d interject with your own (usually idiotic) opinions and whine on his shoulder, asking for a piece of strawberry. Sometimes you would make him feed it to you, and although he’d never admit it, he loved it when you did. The last straw was at practice where Kageyama just wouldn’t stop bugging him about his lazy decoy work. Tsukishima was supposed to be the sharp one, the one with the best game sense, so how come he kept missing spike after spike, serve after serve, block after block.

Coach Ukai let him leave early, today obviously wasn’t his day, and Tsukishima complained that if he was in the same room with Kageyama for another minute someone was going to get hurt. It was all your fault, he thought to himself as he stopped in front of your house. You were such a fucking dumbass. You just had to get sick today.

Your mother let him in, smiling at the familiar face and let him climb the stairs to your bedroom. He softly opened the door expecting you to be sleeping but you were sitting up straight in bed, sipping on a steaming cup of tea. He loved the way your hair was tousled and how you looked at him with tired eyes.

“You should be sleeping,” he said plainly, dropping his bag onto the floor by your desk.

“Did you miss me that much,” you remarked in a raspy voice. He wished he had bought cough drops for you.

“I just came to drop off the work you missed.” Tsukishima turned away to rifle through his backpack, hoping that with his back turned you wouldn’t hear how shaky his breathing was. Plopping the papers on the desk, Tsukki turned back around to see you with your arms stretched out.

“Can I have a hug?”

“No, you’re gonna get me sick.” Tsukki hated himself for saying that. Why couldn’t he just get over himself and his stupid pride. All he’s ever wanted was to lay in bed with you, tuck you into his chest, and feel your shoulders rise with every breath you took. He’s imagined the way it would tickle to feel your steady breaths against the skin of his neck more times than he’d care to admit. “Go back to sleep.” He said plainly before slinging his bag back around his shoulders and leaving you to rest.

Just as Tsukishima was about to leave through the front door, your mother bumped into him with a bowl of soup, asking him if he’d be so kind as to bring it to your room.

When he opens your door again he laughs to himself seeing you had already fallen fast asleep, in just a matter of seconds. He gently placed the bowl on your bedside table, gently nudging you to wake up. But you were out cold; even when Tsukishima said your name your body had no response. The soup probably needed time to cool down anyway, what’s more important is that you get enough rest.

Tsukishima took this opportunity to admire you. How your parted lips enticed him, how the skin of your cheeks flushed from your fever, the way your hair stuck to your forehead from all the beads of sweat that ran down. Tsukki decided to head to your bathroom, running a hand-towel under some cold water. He knelt down in front of you and gently dabbed the sweat off your face, careful not to wake you up. You looked so peaceful.

Tsukishima thought about the way you lived in his mind. You were everywhere now. Looking at your parted lips he thought about how your fingers brushed up against his cheek that one time drinking hot chocolate, how he remembers that moment every time he reaches to put his glasses on in the morning; about how he could never look at the stars without hearing your faint, siren-like voice echoing in the back of his head. You had slithered your way into every aspect of his life. He thought that maybe if he indulged a bit, you would stop showing up in every single one of his dreams at night. This was his chance to do so.

He thought of himself as a coward, he could never bring himself to tell you how he felt while you were awake. This was greedy self-indulgence.

He called your name again, and when you didn’t budge he whispered a faint “I love you”, pressing a long kiss to your forehead. Standing back up, he placed the towel by your bedside before picking up his bag and leaving.

A weak smile made its way across your lips, your eyes barely fluttering open when you heard the front door close.

You whispered in a raspy voice, “I love you too.”

#haikyuu!!#hq #haikyuu writing #haikyuu fluff #fluff #hq imagines #tsukishima #tsukki #tsukkishima kei #tsukkishima x reader #tsukkishima fluff #haikyuu #haikyuu x gn!reader #hq tsukishima #tsukishima fluff #haikyuu tsukishima #vez! writes

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mymelodyheart · 4 years ago

Text

Miles Between Us Chapter 6 ~A Wrinkle in Time~

Previously in The Tethered Ties ...

And when he finally glanced back down at the laptop, he nearly choked. Right there on the screen, peering up at him, was a cantankerous-looking, crocodile Dundee version of Harry. Same eyes, the same face, and though a handsome fellow, this man's skin looked weather-beaten, and he had a scary scowl on his face.

"Jamie," Claire giggled. "I'd like you to meet my uncle ...Quentin Lambert Beauchamp, also known as uncle Lamb."

Ah, holy fuck! Though uncle Lamb looked like Harry, Jamie knew this man was nothing like Harry. Harry was ...or had been a polite, refined and jolly ol' chap with a very posh accent. This man was far from the polished look Harry presented. This man looked like he'd seen the world and confronted danger and probably wrestled crocodiles as a hobby. Convincing uncle Lamb that he's good enough for Claire was not going to be a walk in a park. Jamie knew he had a long evening ahead as he gingerly sat down in front of Claire's laptop and braced himself.

Jamie cleared his throat and sat up straight. "Good evening, sir ..."

If you wish to read this on AO3, here is the link.

If you wish to read this from the beginning:

AO3 link

Tumblr link

Jamie had a dream. It was unlike any other dreams he had before.

He was cycling down a road, the cold wind stinging his cheeks, a plastic container of pastries in one hand. Excitement rose within as he followed the familiar route to Murtagh's house, huffing and puffing when he picked up speed. He was dropping off his ma's freshly baked treats to his godfather, hoping Murtagh would have time to go fishing.

An ear-splitting screech of brakes echoed in the air, along with mangling metal crashing and twisting.

He stopped. The plastic container dropped from his hand, and his bike collapsed to the ground. He began walking towards the crash site, sensing with every step, he was nearing a metamorphic truth that would change him forever.

Despite the trepidation mounting in his chest, he couldn't stop moving towards the wreck. He quickened his pace and then began to jog, and then he ran. Faster and faster.

He ran until the breath whooshed out from his lungs in burning gasps, and he slowed to a standstill in front of the harrowing scene that was before him.

The wind picked up, and the clouds dimmed the sun. The acrid stench of burnt rubber and engine oil filled his nostrils. A familiar face appeared through the cracked windshield, calling out his name in desperation. For a second, his heart ceased to beat, and his breath caught in his throat.

Harry?

"Save her ...please ..."

The plea struck his ears, and he tried to move, but he was stuck on the spot. He twisted his body and stretched out his arms, willing his feet to budge, straining and grunting and chanting a soundless prayer for strength. A piercing scream jolted him out from his struggle, unfettering him from the invisible force holding him in place, almost tumbling over from the abrupt release. He realised they were cries from a child.

He moved towards the car and wrenched the back door open, seemingly the only side still intact from the collision. A child, no more than the age of five with angry red blotches on her cheeks and wild curls, was restrained by the seatbelts. Her pudgy wee arms were outstretched as she screamed on top of her lungs, crying out for her mummy.

He stared in disbelief, immobilised by the uncertainty of his next course of action.

"Save her, Jamie ..." He glanced up to see Harry's face contorted in pain, eyes imploring. "There's not enough time."

"But ..."

"Go! Take her with you ...Now!"

Spurred by adrenaline and fear, heart pounding against his chest, he began to move. He unfastened the strap across the wean's body and grabbed her from the seat. Wee arms and legs wrapped around him as he spun around and headed for the moor. Holding tight to his bundle, one hand bracing the tiny head pressed against his neck, he ran as fast as he could. When he glanced over his shoulder, he saw Harry watching him through the window and then the car exploded.

Jamie woke up lurching upright to a sitting position, his top clinging to his clammy skin and his heart racing like a freight train. Swallowing air in big gulps, he yanked off the duvet and swung his legs out of bed, trying to even his breathing. Then he began to shake as he heard the distant roar from the deep recesses of his brain, and the floodgates of memories swung open in vivid hues. It came in massive waves, raising recollections and visions to the surface that had been submerged under the basement of time. A deluge of dispersed images merged into one, and a stream of realisation emerged. Suddenly everything was as clear as day. Everything that Murtagh had told him of Claire's parents earlier was now clicking into place. The child they'd rescued that fateful day was Claire! Except, in his dream, he'd been the only one to save her.

A cold shiver passed through him when a suppressed but very visual memory of Harry sprung into his head just before the car had exploded. Harry had just regained consciousness and had looked straight at Jamie with a sobbing wee Claire tight in his arms, the look on his face branding his consciousness forever. Though it had been relief carved out on the doomed man's face in knowing Claire would live, it had done nought to appease his soul. He glanced over at the woman beside him. She slept peacefully, her soft snores confirming she hadn't been affected by his fitful sleep.

Reliving the sequence of that event, he remembered now how the horror of that day had haunted him. It had been so bad, he'd been coerced to attend counselling by his mother. Too young to process Harry's demise, he'd literally felt on the edge of a nervous breakdown. After a year of refusing to talk about the ordeal, he'd shifted his focus elsewhere to stop the nightmares. There had been this unabating need to atone for Claire's parents' death, the urge to help and protect growing like a snowball, morphing into an avalanche to flatten and destroy any unpleasant memories and replace them with something good. He'd rescued animals and sheltered them in his father's barn. He'd defended kids against bullies at school. He'd volunteered for causes that involved helping the vulnerable. He'd enlisted to be part of the British Armed Forces, hoping to make a difference to the plights of those afflicted. He'd even gone as far as making a promise to his dying friend, killed in action during his SAS days. Jamie had felt so guilty for his inability to protect his best mate, Simon, he'd asked his friend's widow to marry him. Though thankful now the marriage had never taken place after having met Claire, his efforts to appease his guilt had been a struggle. All these years, he'd buried the horrors of war, the memory of losing Simon and images of Harry going up in flames with layers of what he'd thought were reparations. But what he hadn't known, his failings continued to fester below the surface. It was like a wound that refused to heal.

Had Murtagh's revelation triggered the suppressed memories to resurface? Or did it have something to do with his conversation with Claire's uncle Lamb? His mind wandered to their discussion earlier.

"Jamie," Claire giggled. "I'd like you to meet my uncle ...Quentin Lambert Beauchamp, also known as uncle Lamb. Uncle Lamb, this is Jamie, James Fraser ...my boyfriend. I'm staying with him for at least a week."

"Is that right?" the man on the screen harumphed with a growl as he stuck a thick cigar between his teeth. "Not what I was expecting."

Jamie disregarded the not so subtle dig. "Good evening, sir ..." he began.

Claire laughed. "Don't call him that, Jamie. It's too weird!" She glanced over her shoulder as she walked away. "If he's giving you "the look," don't worry. Uncle Lamb is all bluster."

"I heard that," uncle Lamb grumbled.

"Play nice, then!" she shouted from the kitchen.

Jamie eyed the man on the screen and squared his shoulders. He wished he'd been more prepared for this or at least looked presentable. Instead, he resembled a drowned cat after just having arrived home from work. Claire hadn't told him much about uncle Lamb and wondered if she'd said anything about him to the older man.

He stared at Harry's look alike. Does uncle Lamb ever smile? Or is that scowl permanently etched on his face? He wasn't sure. Maybe it had something to do with that cigar hanging loosely in his mouth.

Sizing him up, Jamie presumed they're roughly the same breadth, and if uncle Lamb was anything like Harry in stature, they should be the same height too. It's a good thing they were meeting via video conference. If they had been facing each other in person, he might be less inclined to shake hands, seeing how the older man looked like he was capable of committing murder.

An amused Claire came gliding out of the kitchen with a bottle of beer, seemingly unfazed by tension emanating from her laptop screen. "Don't mind his mood, Jamie," she chirped. "He's just grouchy because five of his men came down with food poisoning. And work is being delayed again."

Uncle Lamb growled. "Don't remind me."

Claire wagged a finger at her uncle before kissing Jamie on the forehead and handing him the bottle. "I'll go prepare dinner."

He took a deep breath as he watched her head back to the kitchen. Uncle Lamb could frown all he wanted. Ultimately, if need be, he would go through twenty uncle Lambs to show the world how serious he was about his relationship with Claire.

Jamie noticed the older man watching him very closely.

"So how are ye?"

"I don't like surprises," Quentin announced, obviously wanting to get straight to the point.

"Neither do I," he returned. Facing off each other for a few silent seconds, Jamie deliberately took a slow slug of his beer. He placed the bottle back down on the table and wiped his lips with the back of his hand. "But surprises are nothing new to me. I was trained to be prepared against any surprises," he added, referring to his SAS past.

Quentin ignored the remark. "Claire told me ..." He leaned forward and rolled his khaki sleeves up, exposing tanned sinewy, muscular arms. "...you met just before Christmas."

"That's right, sir ...I mean unc ...I mean Quentin." The older man raised an eyebrow at him, and Jamie raised one back.

"Things seem to be moving along. Fast!"

"Claire and I have acknowledged that."

"She was there with you only a few weeks ago for her holidays. She's just got back to work. Did you persuade her to come back?"

"She's got a mind of her own."

"Are you serious about her?"

Jamie tried not to look rattled as the older man bombarded him with questions. It was only natural to be concerned about his niece. "Aye, I built her a shed." Ach shite, wrong answer ...what the fuck was that, ye clot-heid? He felt like kicking himself.

Quentin watched him in stony silence. "A shed?"

He inhaled deeply, careful not to show any signs of frustration. "Actually, it's a writing studio," he explained, feeling the heat crawling up his neck. "For when Claire comes over for a visit. She can work undisturbed there. I've even soundproofed the walls, and it's been comfortably furnished ."

Quentin said nothing. Instead, he slowly placed the cigar on the ashtray, raised his brandy snifter to his lips and drank.

Determined, Jamie pushed on. "Claire has handed her notice to her boss, and once her commitments in London are done, she'll be moving here ...to Broch Mordha." He tamped down the rising emotion from his throat as he thought of Claire preparing dinner for him in the kitchen. "Look, I may not look like the man ye hoped for, for yer niece, but ye dinnae ken me. I admit I come with a lot of baggage, but I'm working hard on it, and she's helped me tremendously in dealing with ..." He trailed off. He didn't want to pull the PTSD card out. This was about Claire, he reminded himself. "I ken her history. I ken she's moved a lot, lived in boarding schools, nae home to go to during the holidays, following ye half-way around the world when school's out. She told me she's never felt any sense of belonging anywhere ..." Quentin glanced away. "I want ye to know, I willnae be just another stopover for Claire. And even if she has to travel long distances to visit ye, she'll always have a place to return to. I have roots here, and I can give her..."

Quentin crossed his arms. "Give her what?"

Jamie cleared his throat. "What I'm trying to say is, I'm serious about taking our relationship further. As ye can see, she's staying here in my home until she goes back to London. Though there is this unspoken understanding between Claire and me, I dinnae want to be presumptuous ..." Jamie rolled his head to ease the tension in his neck. "...in thinking, she will move in with me when she relocates here to Broch Mordha. But I plan on asking her. And it would be verrae nice if ye could give yer blessing and ..."

He shook his head. "No!" His grin was more like a baring of his cigar-stained teeth. "Ask me again in a year."

Jamie ran a hand through his hair. "All due respect, I ken she will say yes when I ask. And I ken she's stubborn enough to make up her own decisions with or without yer blessing. But I'd rather I have it ...for all our sakes. I'm no' sure if ye are aware, but I have my own business that I share with my brother, I own a house, I have no mortgage, and I make enough to provide for both of us with enough left for savings. She can pursue her dream of writing to her heart's content without worrying about finances."

"You overlook the fact that she's a city girl. What if her writing career never takes off? What are her possibilities in the Highlands?"

"Oh, but it will take off. I have faith it will. She's very passionate about pursuing her dream, and rightly so, because she's a talented writer. I can attest to that because I've read one of her finished works."

Quentin's face softened just a tiny bit. "You have?"

"Aye, I have," he hedged. "Claire should have published her work ages ago, and I plan to encourage her to do just that. Her writing would be a wonderful gift to the world."

"You're doing a lot for someone you barely know."

"Quentin," Jamie sighed, swallowing his exasperation. "I'm in love with yer niece. I'm aware everything between us is happening fast, and I dinnae suppose there is a timeframe or formula to follow when it comes to relationships. I'm just winging this and going along with my guts. And my guts are telling me Claire is the one. I still cannae believe someone like her is even real and that she loves me back. I sometimes wonder if I'm dreaming. She brings the best out of me, and I want to do the same for her. So if helping her realise her dreams is all I have to do to keep her, that's what I'll do."

A few heartbeats of silence and watching each other closely passed before Quentin spoke again. "What did you say your last name was? I didn't quite catch it."

Ach, Christ, he's gonnae do a background check on me! "Fraser," Jamie replied.

The older man let out an impatient grunt. "Yes, yes, but which Fraser do you belong to? There are a lot of Frasers in the Highlands."

"My parents are Brian and Ellen Fraser," he replied, resisting the urge to roll his eyes.

Quentin's brows knitted together, and his stubbled jaw flexed twice. "You mean Brian and Ellen from Lallybroch?"

Jamie shifted in his seat. "Ye know them?"

"And you're Jamie?" Quentin asked, ignoring his question.

Confusion descended over Jamie as he saw the transformation in Quentin's face. "Aaaye," he said slowly and deliberately. Where in the bloody hell is this going to, now?

"And Claire wants to move in with you?"

"As I've said, I havenae asked her, but I think she would like the idea of us living together. It would make perfect sense since we do love each other."

He grabbed the cigar and pointed the tip in his direction. "You have my blessings." Ignoring Jamie's sharp intake of breath, he tipped back the rest of his brandy. "Conditions are, there should be once a week phone-calls. Video or facetime ones or whatever you call it. And when I'm on British soil ..."

Jamie suddenly straightened up on his seat. "We'll visit, or ye can come and stay with us."

Quentin shot up on his feet. "Very well then, welcome to the family, Fraser. Go and get your dinner ...you wouldn't want your wife ..." he coughed, his face turning red. "...I mean your girlfriend reheating what she's just lovingly made."

Jamie got up as well, ready to shut the laptop, relief and confusion at the sudden turn around washing over him in waves. What the fuck just happened? Too bewildered for words, "Of course," was all he could muster.

Quentin hesitated, as if in search of the right words, his throat working overtime. When he finally spoke, Jamie couldn't help but hear the emotion in the older man's voice. "If Claire's father was alive today, he would think his daughter has made a fine choice."

His jaw dropped involuntarily. "He would?"

There was no reply. Too shell shocked, Jamie stood there staring at the screen for a full minute, long after Quentin had signed off.

When Claire reappeared from the kitchen, she launched herself into his arms and whispered, "Hungry?"

His bewilderment evaporated, happiness shrouding around him in such a way he knew everything was going to be alright.

Puffing out a breath, Jamie shoved a hand through his hair and made his way to the bathroom. He knew he wouldn't be going back to sleep for a while, so he might as well washed off those vivid dreams of Harry and clear his thoughts of that conversation with uncle Lamb. He felt like he was living in the Twilight Zone and badly needed to get his equilibrium back.

The silence of the night closed in around him until the soothing spray of the shower hit his skin. He wondered if Claire would remember anything from her parents' accident. She'd mentioned a couple of times, she had been five when they passed away. Considering that Claire was now in a happy place, content and well-adjusted, it was probably not the brightest of ideas to conjure up her past. But then, on the other hand, he suspected she might want to know what had happened that day. After all, she did have the right to know her history, no matter how painful.

The image of Claire's bright amber eyes and husky laughter flashed in his mind.

Jamie sighed, turned off the shower, and quickly dried himself off. When he realised Claire wasn't in bed, he made his way to the kitchen. He quietened his pace when he found her dropping teabags into two mugs, wearing only his t-shirt and a pair of woollen socks. She didn't hear him approach at first, looking deep in thought as she waited for the kettle to boil.

Moonlight streamed in through the kitchen window, creating a halo out of the wisps of curls framing her face, the whole scene reminding him she was everything he wasn't, a shining light where he watched her in the shadows. Sorcha! A force within spurred him towards her, needing to touch that light, hoping it wouldn't fade with his damaged soul.

"It's late, Sassenach. What are ye doing up?" he asked, walking towards the fridge.

"Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ!" she jumped, hands flying to her chest. She tucked a loose curl behind her ears and faced him with a sigh, a small smile slowly forming her lips. "You weren't in bed, so I thought you probably had one of your nightmares. I'm making us some chamomile tea. It helps with sleep and relaxation."

He wasn't sure if this was the time to tell Claire about his dreams, so he dismissed it with a wave of a hand and smiled. "Just a strange dream. Is that one of yer herbal remedies?" he asked, stirring the subject to something neutral.

She lifted a shoulder. "Something like that."

He opened the fridge and found a rainbow of colours of fruits, vegetables, yoghurts and juices. Claire hadn't been kidding when she'd said she went food shopping today. Obviously, root vegetables, eggs, cheese and a container of hummus he'd bought wasn't enough. Smiling, he grabbed a pear and shut the fridge door. "Do pears go with chamomile tea?"

Her face lit up, making his heart expand. "I suppose so." She poured hot water into the mugs and brought their teas to the dining table, Jamie following close behind her. "And it's good for you. You ought to eat more fruits."

"But you bought enough pears to feed an entire village, Sassenach," he pointed out, biting into the succulent fruit.

Claire giggled as she sat down. "The other bag of pears are for the sticky toffee pear pudding I'm going to make. Uncle Lamb loves making it for me whenever he comes over for a visit. So I thought I'd make some for us. He told me the recipe he uses was from my mum."

The way she smiled fondly at the memory made him want to draw her into his arms, but he took a seat instead. "With pears? I've only ever had normal sticky toffee pudding," he said, sipping some tea. "My ma makes it sometimes."

Her eyes twinkled. "I was told my mum loved to bake. And apparently, according to uncle Lamb, my favourite was cream buns."

Curiosity started to niggle in his belly at the mention of Claire's mother, even though he rebelled against it. Is this the time to talk about the death of her parents? Before he could change his mind, he came straight out with it. "Sorry to change the subject, Sassenach, but I have something to ask. What made ye come to the Highlands every Christmas?" he asked. "Ye mentioned once, ye like coming here during the Holidays. I mean, it's a great place to spend Christmas and all, but is there a particular reason?"

For a long moment, she stared at him with a faraway look. He realised he was holding his breath, half of him already regretting asking the question. There was a possibility her answer could lead to resurrecting a tragic event and snuffing the light out of her. And he needed to bask in her light some more. What was he thinking? Leave the past in the past, Murtagh had told him. He didn't know what lay on the other side of bringing up her parents' death. Either way, Claire didn't need to be dragged down with a sad memory.

Feeling suddenly foolish, he put down the pear he was eating and reached out to touch her hand. "Ye know what. Dinnae answer that. It's getting late. The tea is working its magic already, and I think I'm ready to go to bed."

A delicate frown marred her brows. "Are you sure you don't want to know?"

Am I sure? No, not really. "Go on, tell me then."

She suddenly beamed like the light that she was. "The reason why I love coming back to the Highlands every year is, this is the place where my parents met and fell in love. I'm not quite sure where exactly, but it was somewhere around here. As far as I know, the Highlands was their happy place where they made loads of happy memories and great friends, and every time I come here, it makes me feel closer to them. You might find it odd, but I do feel most at peace here. There's something that draws me to come every year. Call it gravitational pull or whatever. But it feels like it's my parents' way of sharing their happiness with me. Am I making any sense?"

His breath of relief released in a slow rush, lightness invading his chest, as he realised she didn't remember anything of her parents' death. Or at least he presumed so. But, if it's his burden to carry the truth of Claire's parents' death alone, so be it. Why bring up something dark that has no place in their lives anymore? Maybe one day ...in the far future. Her hand still in his, he stood up, pulling her to her feet before lifting her into his arms. She squealed in surprise. "It doesnae matter if it makes sense or no', Sassenach. If it feels right to ye, then it must mean something. Who knows, maybe the reason ye're probably drawn to the Highlands is that ye were conceived here. Have ye ever thought of that?"

Claire slipped her arms around his neck and smiled. "Or maybe ..." she leaned in to nibble at his earlobe. "...because I was drawn to ye. Have you ever thought of that?"

Jamie laughed as he started to walk them towards the bedroom. "C'mon off to bed with ye ...I have an early start tomorrow."

Claire eyed him mischievously as she snuggled closer. "To bed or to sleep?"

With a guttural groan, he lowered his head, brushing their lips together as he gave his answer in kisses.

Dear Readers,

I hope this chapter made sense to you. As you might have noticed, I didn't write the events in this chapter in chronological order, and I hope you can understand why I wrote it the way I did. If it didn't make any sense, please, I'm all ears ...ask away, and I'll answer.

It was a challenge writing the dream part, so I hope I've done it justice. And mostly, I hope you've enjoyed reading it as much as I have enjoyed seeing the feedbacks in the previous chapter. So a big thank you for that!

Let me know what you thought about the latest instalment and until the next update, take care of your health and keep up the positive vibes. X 😀❤️

ADDED UPDATE - An explanation to this chapter

I was trying to be clever and do the first two part of this chapter in the reverse order that I may have left you confused than enlightened. I have copied and pasted an explanation to the question posted by one reader in AO3. I hope this will help clarify things. So here goes:

The dream was brought about by two triggers. First, was Jamie's conversation with Murtagh in Chapter five. Although in Jamie's dream he'd been the one to save Claire, in reality, it had been Murtagh. But it was Jamie who carried Claire to safety after Murtagh instructed him to. This was the conversation:

Murtagh puffed out a breath. "The last time ye saw Henry, he was in a car accident ...with his family."

"What?" he choked.

Murtagh turned tired-looking eyes on him, and there was a deep sadness in them that startled him. "It was the day they were coming back to Broch Mordha for the first time in years. I heard talks around the village that they've rented a wee cottage from Mrs Baird. And also heard words about a wean. I didnae want to stick around to find out. I thought I'd take a wee trip to Skye and stay there until Henry and his family were gone. I was just packing when ye came barging into my hoose tellin me that a car had smashed to a tree. I came running oot like a gudgeon with ye right behind me. Ye must have been nine or ten. It wasnae far from where I lived then. By the time I got there, Henry was still alive, and Jules was unconscious. He ordered me to get the bairn first and then Jules. My first thoughts were to save Jules, but the wee child was screaming, and Henry was begging me to save her. Between the two of us, we managed to get wee Claire oot, and I ordered ye to take her as far as possible from the site. And that ye did. But I couldnae save Harry and Jules because the car caught fire and Henry lost consciousness. When I smelt gasoline, I had to run, and that's when the car exploded."

The second trigger was brought about by seeing Uncle Lamb's similarity to Harry and also by their conversation via video conference. Towards the end of their conversation uncle Lamb realised Jamie was the young boy who'd carried Claire to safety before the car exploded. Uncle Lamb would have remembered this because he was the only living guardian of Claire and the story of his brothers' demise would have been passed on to him when he came to collect Claire. You will also notice that Jamie found it strange the sudden turn around in uncle Lamb's demeanour at the end of their talk. But Jamie hadn't known the reason for this until after the dream. The dream in a way brought back all the suppressed memories and everything clicked in place together.

Now Jamie is unsure of asking Claire what she knew about the crash and telling her his dreams. Seeing her happy and contented, he didn't want her to relive that past in case more grief than good comes out of it.

I hope I made more sense here. X

#melodyheart #wonderwall #milesbetweenus #ClaireBeauchamp/JamieFraser #claire beauchamp #jamie fraser #outlanderfanfic

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langernameohnebedeutung · 4 years ago

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I’m probably parrotting to the wrong choir here, but at least part of the truth about liking villains vs. condemning villains is...I don’t consume villain content in order to find healthy coping strategies and genuine life advice. I don’t look for healthy coping strategies in sci-fi films and fantasy books or on ao3 in the first place, because 99% of all that input is not produced by people that a) intent or b) are qualified to give meaningful life advice.

Sometimes things we read or watch can be detrimental to our mental health or can make us happier or mean a lot to us. And that is also why it is important to tag, warn, and summarise content: So that people can avoid things that are bad for them and find things that comfort them. But what popular fiction never is, is a clear, intentional, professional, and universal guide.

We already talked about how even the most horrible people will read novels where they resemble the bad guys and identify with the good guys instead rather than reflecting their own behaviour. That is, because narratives need stakes. The hero needs to be David, not Goliath. And we too see ourselves as Goliath, in our lives. Because there are always things that are bigger than us. And because we know that David will win.

But sometimes...sometimes it is quite nice to feel like the giant. Especially when we’re used to feeling small.

Sure “I like this villain because villains get to do things we want to but can’t” might seem like a tiny brained answer, but if you expand a little, there is truth to it: Sometimes I want to see someone go bloody ape-shit in response to trauma, injustice, being underestimated or forgotten. Sometimes I want to see someone just care about themselves and burn the whole place down and look fabulous doing it, because I know, that in real-life, very often it is sympathy and empathy holding me back for even insisting on minor and very rational things, simply because I don’t want to be a burden on others and because I prioritise other people very highly. There is catharsis in that; in seeing someone getting it out of their system in the most violent way possible just like there is catharsis in going for a run or punching the hell out of a punching bag when you’re frustrated even though you would never chase down and beat up a person.

Because even when see characters standing up for themselves - think of the infamous internet rage over Captain Marvel stealing that bike from the dude that harassed her – their actions are usually centred around punishing the culprit, not the emotions of the party that was wronged. But people got angry. Not because she stole a car, or because she stole it from a men even – but because her acting in response to sexual harassment connected the scene with deep roots of social context and political opinions and expectations.

And, despite hundreds, maybe thousands of films in existence where a white male protagonist steals a car or bike or anything else to save the day, she is read as a villain here simply for doing the rational thing. Much less could she have killed him and burnt down his house, because she is a hero and it doesn’t serve the plot and that would not be the thing a hero does.

A villain burning the whole joint down because someone looked at them funny is acting selfishly, self-centred. But what are you going to do, call them a villain? Duh. Complain about how what they’re doing is wrong? Well, yes.

The lane of their actions is not narrowed by the actions of the culprit on the one side (heroes have to react appropriately and proportionally) and the expectations of the good-guy on the other (they have to act in accordance with forwarding the plot). Which means putting up with an asshole sidekick or apologising if they undergo character development that makes them a ‘better’ person and requires them to forgive someone). You might have your odd Logan who will throw a punch when he’s pissed – but here we already venture into the territory of an anti-hero.

And personally, our anger, our disappointment, all that will always be much more contained than any fictional space - by our financial situation, the people we depend on, our job, our studies, or family, our social circle. We live in a web of social expectations that we depend on every moment of our life.

Fiction itself also exists in a web of social context: What influence does it have on the audience? Will it sell? What implications does it have? How does it present its characters? Who is the author and what do they stand for? - but the fictional space, aka the world constructed in a novel, is wholly separate:

If I write a novel where I state that every Canadian person likes the colour blue and wears funny hats, then this is true in the universe of that novel, no matter what any Canadian reader might feel about it. This means two things:

1. As writers, producers, and even as producers of fan-content, we have to be critical about what we put into the world, because by creating a fictional space, we create characters who cannot stand up against the things we say about them or make them do. Just like the superheroine in the skimpy outfit who gets her powers through the sun shining down on her nipples cannot have an authentic discussion about her body. And when young girls read our comic and see that all the male heroes are clothed and the heroine isn’t, then we are the one that came up with the sunshine-nipples.

2. Our very own, personal interpretation of the novel – even our own - and the way we relate to it is our own. The feelings we project on the characters are individual, personal, and shaped by us.

And yes, villains usually see their comeuppance. And the thing is, many people argue here: “Well, it’s okay if the villain does x, as long as they’re punished for it.” But...that’s a difficult subject. A piece of fiction can condemn the actions of the villain without seeing them lose – the challenge to the writer is to still form a satisfying narrative, because the villain winning is the ‘likely’-seeming thing that every narrative subverts when the hero levels up and returns with her new friends to kick the villain’s ass. But even if you sympathise with the villain, seeing them win would still be an unsatisfying narrative, most of the time.

Because the whole point of an actual evil villain - and sympathising with an actual villain - is that what they’re doing is unjust. Malicious. Selfish. And projecting your desire to strike back or stand up on a villain and seeking catharsis through seeing them go wild and tear down the city needs the pushback. For them burning down the house to be satisfying, you need to see the house burn. For them to blow up the house of parliament to be satisfying – you must see the explosion.

And watching them lose provides the ultimate, necessary gravitas. Watching Team Rocket fly off with Pikachu and live happily ever after on Team Rocket money would not be satisfying. Watching our super-villain burn the world to a crisp with their death-laser would not be satisfying if they just end up getting their rocket and flying off while drinking space-mojitos.

Whether they end up being redeemed or not: The initial moment that someone fights back and defeats them at the height of their immorality and prevents the suffering of innocents is the moment that their willingness and readiness to commit violence is put to the test.

We know the hero goes through a journey of their own - one that requires sacrifice and steels their commitment until they are ready to take on the villain. And knowing that someone is willing to make sacrifices to be able to take the villain down is the ultimate acknowledgement of the transgressive act the villain committed. Without it, it would be empty. Like watching someone punch the air.

But the truth is also that when you recreate the fictional space in another, secondary space – fanfiction, fan content, fanart – you decide what to focus on. Like, we all enjoy hurt/comfort stories, but they have a different intention than something focussed on action or the growth of the hero – because that requires for us to see the villain go down. The focus is no longer the transgressive acts of the villain – but to lay bare the pain that caused them. It is no longer about beating them down for the sake of justice.

Like, when I make a post about Frankenstein’s monster living happily ever after and people tell me that hey, the monster killed a lot of people - then we have a different premise. Because me not adding a line about the evil things the monster did to my post was based on the premise that you knew that random tumblr user langernameohnebedeutung does not condone the crime of murder because she posts about a 200-year-old book. And the #fact that my point doesn’t construct an ending where the monster stands in front of a judge and is sentenced to a certain time in jail or punished by a more heroic person is because I have daddy issues and seeing a giant creature go on a rampage through Europe to get back at its asshole Dad in a way I never could makes me quite happy the novel focussing on its acts of violence already did this and my post clearly had a different intention.

#long post #fandom

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gretavanfleetposts · 3 years ago

Note

I’m a sucker for a ship, so 💳💥💳💥💳

I’m Lexi, a kinesiology and special education grad student! I enjoy all things music history, mythology, tattoos, and motorcycles (was on a bike before I could walk lol). I’m a military brat so moved all over the country, born in Germany. I am a Taurus and born in the year of the bull, so extra stubborn. But, stubborn as in I’ll stand up for others more than myself. I would say I’m an introvert at first but then become very extroverted the more I get to know someone. I’m not sure I have a favorite movie because it changes so much. My favorite book is Slash’s autobiography 😅. My go to song when I need a pick me up is She’s a Rainbow by The Rolling Stones because it makes me walk with an extra bounce in my step. A skill I think I have is athletics, I’m able to pick up pretty easy on every sport and writing is something I dabble in! My favorite item of clothing I have is a Harley Davidson oversized jean jacket that was my dads in the 80s and I wear all the time now. I like salty things followed by sweet because you have to get the best of both. That’s why peanut butter and chocolate is my fave thing in the world. My ideal date would be something outside, like hiking or going to a lake, or something with an adrenaline rush like a theme park or even sky diving! I have small black dog named Apollo! One thing I love about myself is how inclusive I am and how I don’t take no for an answer regarding rights of others. There are pics of me on my blog, so I won’t bore you with one on here. Love your blog 🖤🖤🖤

Lexi!

❤: One of my favorite writers on tumblr! You are amazing and I’m only very intimidated to write this. If this is bad, we can just chalk it up to nerves because I literally love you. ANYWAY. You are beautiful and honestly sound so cool. And so smart too! Grad school is not easy but I’m sure you already know that. But you’ve totally got this.

Ship: Jake 🌖

Because: I think you would intimidate Jake a little and I think he would love it. And you would definitely meet his stubbornness with your own which I think he needs sometimes. He would absolutely take you hiking on a first date and have a picnic waiting for you once you reached your destination. I also think he’d love how inclusive you are. Peace, love, unity is the motto after all. And I can totally see you giving him a copy of Slash’s autobiography with a bunch of notes in it for his birthday. It would be his favorite thing ever, getting to read it from your point of view. He’d memorize all of your connotations as he read and reread it on tour just so you two could talk about it at length when he got home.

Scenario:

You were in a bad mood when you arrived at your house, you’d be the first to admit it

It had been a long day and with the semester drawing to an end, the stress of it all was really just beginning

But a familiar car sit in your driveway, you boyfriend’s car, and immediately your mood shifted

Despite the day you had had, you put on a happy face and pushed through the front door, only to find Jake setting down a heavy backpack on your living room floor, sunglasses and sunhat already donned

You questioned his appearance and the gear sitting on the floor

“We’re going on a hike!” he said, sauntering over to you and pulling the weight of school off your back

“Get ready.” He pressed a quick kiss to your cheek and returned to the backpack he had just been shoving an additional water bottle into

You quickly changed and threw your hair into a messy ponytail

Before you knew it, the two of you pulling into the parking lot next to your favorite hiking trail

He grabbed the backpack from his trunk and pulled it onto his shoulders

The two of you hiked for about an hour talking about everything and nothing at the same time

You stopped periodically to take pictures or enjoy just the view

“Almost there,” he said after a while

You had no idea where this mystery destination was but you followed without complaint

About 20 minutes later, you arrived to a small clearing that overlook dense forest

It was a breathtaking view; almost as breathtaking as the boy that had brought you to it

Jake pulled the backpack from his shoulders and set it on the ground, unzipping it and pulling out a blanket and a bottle of wine

In pure Jake-like fashion, he popped the cork and handed you the bottle to take a swig of

You laughed after taking a sip and handed it back to him, turning your gaze back to the view before you

He always knew how to help you destress

I hope you liked it! Thank you soooo much for the request!

-⭐

get shipped here!

#anon ships #ships #gvf #gretavanfleetpostsships #greta van fleet ships #greta van fleet #gvf ships #anon

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thehellcatcroons · 4 years ago

Text

An Ordinary Woman

Summary: Left alone for the weekend while Dante takes a job out of town, Trish gets a call from Lady inviting her over for dinner. This short story explores Trish’s thoughts and feelings as she wrestles with her identity and the idea of friendship.

The idea for this kind of loosely came from an episode of Inuyasha, where Kikyo explains that without the shikon jewel, she’d be free to be an ordinary woman, and that’s all she ever wanted. I wanted to apply the idea of just wanting to be, or even just feel, like an ordinary woman to Trish, who I think probably questions her identity a lot.

Characters: Trish, Lady- Mentions of Dante

**Brief mentions of drinking wine**

Also up on Ao3 (Tumblr mucked up some of my formatting.)

Glittering reflections of flickering lights danced in the quickly puddling streets of the city as a tall, flaxen haired woman sauntered down them; the usual song of the city night masked by the heavy and steady beating of the rain. Trish had found herself growing a fondness for it, and tonight it proved to be welcome company on her walk to Lady's apartment. It was summer now, a season that could have contended with Hell's own fires, but the showers themselves were cool as ice as they fell from the night sky and caressed her overheated skin. She took a deep breath, enjoying the scent of the humidity that hung heavily in the air.

Dante had gone out of town on a job, and the phone hadn't rung in days; Trish had grown tired of sitting around the shop by herself waiting for work. She had managed to find some little ways to keep herself busy here and there. She'd tidied the office and cleaned the spoiled food from the fridge, she'd even hung a few devil arms on the walls to get them off of the floor, since everyone at the office seemed to have been tripping over them. But she'd finished cleaning up a day ago, and today she'd realized that the television in Dante's office didn't operate the way he said it was supposed to. Supposedly it showed moving pictures, but all she had gotten from it was static; no matter how many buttons she clicked or positions she twisted the antenna into. Come to think of it, she'd never even seen Dante use it before, how could she be sure it even worked at all? Thankfully, Lady had called to check in on her just as she was tempted to zap the damned thing with her lighting.

It was the first time Dante had left her alone at the shop for more than a day. It had only been a year since they'd returned from Mallet Island, and there was still a lot about the human world that puzzled Trish. Though, she was never shy about the things that she didn't understand, she knew that if she was going to be living in this world, she'd need to learn a great many things about it. But much to her disappointment, Dante seemed clueless about a lot and Trish found herself talking to Lady more and more as of late. She'd been grateful to hear her voice on the other end of the line after her few days of solitude.

“Leave it to Dante to take the only paying job around! Why don't you close on up and come over here? I could use the company. I'd offer to pick you up, but I just started cooking. Guess I didn't really think about that one...” Trish remembered hearing her hearty laugh through the receiver. “Then again, I guess you'd get wet either way since all I have is the bike!”

“Oh, a little rain won't bother me! Besides, I think I'm starting to like it.” She'd said before eagerly hanging up and shutting up shop for the night; the rain wasn't the only thing she'd been growing a fondness for.

She and Lady had very much gotten off on the wrong foot when they first met. In fact, they'd tried to kill one another. When they later found out that the incident could have been avoided if Dante had just introduced them, they'd both laughed if off, and laughed at Dante. In fact, since the incident (and much to Dante's dismay,) the two of them had seemed to bond a great deal over poking fun at him.

Sirens wailed in the distance, cutting through the drumming of the rain and interrupting Trish's thoughts. The strange sounds of this world were another thing that Trish had found herself slowly growing used to. The demon world had been a strangely quiet place, while the human world was just the opposite; the streets were always alive with the sounds of horns and hollers. She'd remembered Lady telling her that it wasn't like this everywhere, that there were some places in the human world that were quiet and still.

How dull they must be. She thought, smiling at the buzzing neon lights of the bars and shops that lined the streets.

This world was a fascinating place. There was so much to see, so much to do, so much to know. Trish had already learned a great deal of things in just her short year here. But despite all of the wonders of the world that she was in now, what she was learning the most about was herself; who she was, and who she wanted to be. She'd been born of malice, hatred even, created by a monster for some sick revenge.

“But that's not who you are.” Dante had told her when they'd returned from the island. “You saved me, and instead of returning to the demon world, you chose to come back here with me. That's gotta count for something, right?”

Maybe. She thought, recalling the memory. But then, what does that make me?

She knew that she wasn't evil, she just couldn't muster the hatred for it. She was more concerned with who she was, and constantly grappled with her ideas about her identity. After all, nothing was truly hers, everything she had belonged to someone else at one point or another. Her face and her beauty both belonged to a woman long dead. Her guns, Luce and Ombre, had been given to her by Dante. Her strength, her powers, all given to her by her creator, nothing earned. Even her life had belonged to someone else at one point, someone who had cast her aside without a second thought the moment she had failed him. She supposed her name was hers, she'd chosen it after all. But was that it? Was that all she had in this world, after all she'd been through?

The glint of the small silver speaker box that hung outside of Lady's building caught Trish's eye, it was sweet beacon of light to her, casting aside her doubts and replacing them with a strange sense of hope. Her pace seemed to quicken as she approached it, one finger already extended and ready to hit the little button next to Lady's apartment number. A short moment after, she heard the static of the other line picking up through the speaker box.

“Oh! Jeez, you sure walk fast!” She heard Lady's cheery voice on the other end. “I'll buzz you up!” The line clicked off and Trish heard the obnoxious buzz of the main doors being unlocked. Perhaps there were some noises in this world that she didn't care for after all.

The inside of the building was an entire world brighter than outside, though Trish credited most of it to the gross overuse of the color white. The paint on the walls was almost as glossy as the tiled floors that made up the lobby. The florescent lighting was almost blinding, and Trish had to let her eyes adjust for a moment before heading to the elevator.

“Good grief.” She muttered to herself as the cabin creaked and groaned its way down to her. “Why are human machines so noisy?”

As the doors opened, a small hoard of adolescent girls pushed their way out, chattering excitedly about junk food, movies, and something called a 'sleepover.'

“God Jenna, you're so lucky your mom leaves you all of this money when she goes away, we can get whatever we want from the corner store!” Trish heard one of them say.

“It's only because I hate her new boyfriend, she's just doing it so I'm not a bitch to her when she comes home.” Their giggles were cut off as the elevator doors finally slid shut behind Trish.

It seemed to Trish that a decent amount of human rituals involved food. Not only did they need it to nourish themselves, but they used it as a way to bond with one another as well. Though she didn't exactly need human food to sustain herself, she did enjoy it from time to time when it wasn't pizza for the fifth night in a row.

The cabin jerked slightly as it reached its destination, the doors struggling to part ways. The third floor hallway was a welcome site, its interior much duller than the florescence of the first. Soft gray carpet padded the floors, while the walls were bound in a calm blue wallpaper. Trish didn't have to walk far before she found herself outside of Lady's door.

She hesitated for a moment before she knocked, almost nervous to be spending time with Lady by herself. After the events of their first encounter had blown over, Lady had always seemed kind towards her, but Trish could always tell that there was something else there. There was an underlying uneasiness that kept Lady tense and on edge around Trish, and even Dante sometimes. Though, it did seem like Lady tried to hide those feelings from them both. Trish was honestly surprised that she had even invited her over, but she was thankful all the same.

“Hey- woah, ok....how are you not soaked?” Lady asked when she answered the door. Trish shrugged as she walked in, her heels clicking against the floors once more as the terrain changed to hardwood.

“I can use my powers for more than just fighting.” She replied, innocently.

“Well, I suppose having demonic powers would come in handy for all sorts of things.” Lady said as she closed the door behind them and shuffled to the kitchen that was just to the left of it.

She wasn't dressed in the normal attire that Trish was used to seeing her in. Instead, she was sporting soft black shorts with white polka dots, and a baggy gray tee shirt that hung off of her shoulders. Trish looked down to see that she was barefoot, and had a multitude of rings wrapped around her toes.

“I hope you don't mind spaghetti, it's just about done.” Lady said, picking up a wooden spoon and stirring the contents of a large pot.

“What's that?” Trish asked.

“You've never had- oh gosh!” She said, realization suddenly dawning on her. “You probably don't even need to eat, do you? I didn't even think about it.” She almost sounded disappointed.

“Well no, but, I like it. Trying new things has been....an interesting journey for me.” She smiled at Lady as she took a seat on one of the tall steel bar stools that sat next to the counter.

“I'm sure you're really expanding your pallet living with The Prince of Pizza.” She joked as she plopped two glasses onto the counter in front of Trish and filled them with wine. Trish noted that there was something different in the way that Lady was acting, she seemed far more relaxed than she normally was.

“It was kind of you to think of me.” Trish chuckled at Lady's jab at Dante as she grabbed one of the glasses and brought it to her lips.

“I figured you could use a friendly face, being all alone in that office can't be much fun.”

“No, but I did manage to get some cleaning done without Dante there.” She sighed. “He never wants anyone to touch anything.”

“Always says he'll get to it, but never does?” Lady quipped as she sauntered back to the stove. “Been there, done that. I offered to help clean up about a thousand times when we first met. I guess all men are destined to be stubborn, demon or not.”

Trish laughed as Lady spooned the food she'd made out onto some plates for them.

“In any case, I'm glad you're here to give me some company. And that you're willing to humor me and eat my cooking.” She made her way back over to the counter and placed the plates down between them.

“Well, what do you think?” Lady asked as she watched Trish take a bite. “This isn't the first thing you've had besides pizza, is it?”

Trish covered her mouth as she stifled a laugh, still chewing.

“I've tried other foods!” She managed to quip back once she finally swallowed. “I do like this though, what's it called again?”

“Spaghetti.” Lady laughed. “And I'm glad.”

“I heard some girls talking about something called a sleepover when I was getting on the elevator. What is that?” Trish asked suddenly after they'd spent a long and comfortable silence enjoying their food.

“A sleepover?” Lady asked, shifting in her seat uncomfortably. “I've never really been to one myself. But, it's when kids, er- friends, get together and spend the night at each other's houses. They usually stay up all night doing stuff like watching movies, painting nails, telling scary stories, eating junk food.”

“How come you've never been to one?”

Lady looked down into her glass of wine, as if the answer was at the bottom.

“Well...” She began, she looked up at Trish nervously. “My parents were both a bit overly protective when I was really young, so I was never allowed to stay over anyone's house. I think my mom knew my father was....off, so she never let me have any friends over our house. I ran away from home after he killed her, dropped out of school, stopped having friends.” Her voice was suddenly a whisper. She sighed as she took a long sip from her glass.

“I'm so sorry....” Trish replied. She'd almost forgotten, Lady may be human, but that didn't mean she was normal by any means.

“It's alright.” Lady replied. “I guess some human experiences are unfamiliar to me too, the ones I was robbed of anyway.” She half laughed.

Trish looked down at her plate as she took another bite, thankful for something to keep her mouth occupied. She hadn't meant to upset Lady, and she'd forgotten how easy it was to stir up bad memories with just a few small words. She found herself feeling strangely disappointed. Lady had only just started relaxing around her, had she ruined that already? Did she break a trust that they were only just starting to build?

“Hey, you know what?” Lady chirped suddenly. “We can have one tonight!”

“Have what?”

“A sleep over. I've never been to one, you've never been to one. Let's have one here, I have a bunch of movies we can watch, and I'm sure I can dig up some pajamas that'll fit you. Well, maybe, you're awfully tall.” She laughed.

Trish smiled, eager to feel a little bit more normal. “You're sure you're ok with me staying here?”

Lady hesitated before answering. “Why not? It'll be fun! We're already eating and drinking anyway, that's about half of the activities right there.”

Trish was taken back, Lady was clearly wary of demons, yet it seemed like she was going out of her way to extend kindness towards her. Why? What had she done to deserve it? She hadn't saved her life like she'd saved Dante's. Still, Trish couldn't help but smile at the gesture.

It wasn't long before the two women found themselves sitting on Lady's couch, laughing at an old movie and working their way through their second bottle of wine. With each passing sip the world around Trish was becoming more and more intriguing. Lady's laugh was a sweet symphony in her ears, harmonizing perfectly with the rain that was battering hard against the many windows in the apartment. The continuous waves of laughter that passed over her were giving her a feeling that she found herself wanting to chase.

Was this why humans kept company with each other so often? This feeling? Being at the shop with Dante wasn't like this at all. They mostly worked, and when they weren't working, he was mostly drinking and moping. She didn't like to be around him much when he got heavily depressed, she didn't like the look in his eyes when he looked at her, like he was being tortured. It was hard not to feel out of place when someone was constantly looking at you as if you were a ghost, haunted by your presence. Though, it wasn't like that all of the time, and Trish had to admit that he seemed to getting a bit better about it as of late. Still, it was nice to be around someone who didn't make her feel that bitter uneasiness at all.

As the screen on the television went black, Lady pushed herself off of the couch.

“Well, what did you think of your first movie?” She asked eagerly, pulling the tape from the machine that rested beneath the television.

Trish nodded through her fit of giggles. “That was funny.”

“Another one then?”

“Another one!” She replied, zealously pouring herself another glass wine.

As the opening credits began to make their way across the screen, Trish found herself feeling oddly comfortable, like she was no longer out of place. It was as if she wasn't sitting in an apartment that belonged to someone she'd tried to kill half a year ago. No, instead she was starting to feel like she was sitting in an apartment that belonged to a friend. It was almost a strange thought to have, half a year ago they'd been ready to fill one another with bullets. Tonight, they sat together laughing over wine.

“Can I ask you something?” She suddenly asked before she could even think about the words she was saying.

“Sure.” Lady sounded almost curious about the question.

“Why did you ask me to come over here?” Trish asked, fixing her eyes to the remaining liquid in her glass, swirling it around with anticipation.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you seem very wary of demons, and I sense an uneasiness from you when I'm around. I just wasn't sure what made you want to invite a demon into your apartment.”

Lady shifted in her seat, looking up from the television and over to Trish. A nervous expression crept across her face.

“To tell you the truth, if I'd met you ten years ago, I probably wouldn't be so kind. Demons and I have an unsavory history, my father was obsessed with them, and that destroyed my life. I didn't even think that I'd end up working with Dante after we met to be honest. I didn't really trust him for a long time, but giving him a chance showed me that all demons aren't the same. There are some out there who fight against their own kind, and I'm starting to believe that it might be worth it to give them a chance.” Lady took a sip from her glass before continuing. “You've kind of helped reinforce that idea. You're a full blooded demon, and you choose to stay here and help humans.”

Trish almost didn't believe what she was hearing. “Me?”

“Well, yeah. Dante told me you were created just to kill him, and now you're here helping him hunt your own kind. I think that's pretty amazing.” She laughed. “Come to think of it, when I invited you over I almost forgot you were a demon. I was kind of just thinking about how nice it'd be to spend time with another woman. You know, have some quality gal time? I haven't had too many friends outside of Dante, this life doesn't really allow for it.” Lady was talking a bit faster than she normally did, a side effect of the wine.

She thinks of me as just another woman, she thinks of me as her friend. Trish thought to herself, utterly stunned into silence.

The life of a devil hunter was a lonely one, Trish had noted that even Dante didn't have many friends. He seemed to go out of his way to live a solitary life, admitting to her once that he'd left behind someone he loved for this life. He was even cold to Lady from time to time, keeping her just at arms length, despite the fact that they had a lot in common with one another. Trish had always thought that he didn't act that way with her because she reminded him if his mother, but now she was thinking that perhaps it was because she wasn't human. He didn't have to worry about her getting hurt the way he would with a human companion. Perhaps that's why hunters flocked to one another so much, they'd all chosen this life for one reason or another, and perhaps even a solitary lifestyle left humans craving some form of connection.

“Can I ask you a question?” She heard Lady ask before she even had the chance to respond.

“Well, I think it's only fair since I just asked one of my own.”

“Have you ever painted your nails before?”

“What?” The question seemed so off topic and out of place to Trish, but perhaps this was another side effect of the wine.

“Your nails!” Lady help up her hand so that Trish could see her finger nails. They were painted a sparkly black, chipped here and there from working and wear. “It's something people do at sleepovers. I was going to repaint mine, I could do yours if you want. I have a red that'll really match that lipstick you always wear.”

She laughed. “Sure!”

Lady's eyes lit up with excitement, making Trish smile even wider. She seemed so excited to do something so small, so ordinary; but her enthusiasm warmed Trish in a way that she found hard to find words for in the moment. She watched as Lady bounded to her room and back, retuning with a few small bottles and a roll of paper towels.

“Ok!” The brunette said spiritedly as she plopped back down onto the couch and crossed her legs beneath her. She began to shake one of the bottles vigorously. “Give me your hand.” She said as she extended her own towards Trish.

Trish turned to face her and held out a hand, surprised at how soft Lady's were as she gingerly held her wrist with one hand, and began to paint with the other. They spent so much of their time handling guns and various other weapons, how on Earth were her hands so soft? Was it magic?

“Your hands are so soft.” She found herself blurting out, an almost childlike wonder peaking through in the tone of her voice.

Lady laughed. “If there's one thing I learned in this life, it's to find one little luxury worth spending a little extra on. Something that makes you feel like you're still human, some semblance of normalcy. For me, it's occasional manicures and very expensive lotion. It helps remind me that I'm more than just a demon hunter, that I'm still....a lady.” She giggled at the last part.

“You know, I kind of feel like that when I put on make up.” Trish admitted. “I like the way it feels.”

Lady regarded Trish with a surprised smile as she released her hand. Trish brought it closer to her face and wiggled her fingers, watching the shiny red polish glint in the light.

“It's still wet, so don't touch them, or anything else for a few minutes.” She reached for Trish's other hand and began to paint the nails on it.

Trish smiled as she moved her fingers around, admiring the way they looked now that they were painted.

“Wow, this really is pretty, and it does match my lipstick.”

“Toldja.” Lady quipped, winking. “You know, I don't use this color much if you wanna borrow it. Unlike Dante I trust that you'll actually give my stuff back.”

The pair erupted into a fit of giggles, the movie they had put on was slowly becoming white noise in the background, their camaraderie almost drowning it out completely.

“How come you two don't get along?” Trish asked when their laughter had subsided.

Lady looked like she was caught off guard. “It's not that we don't get along. We don't dislike one another. It's just that...” She trailed off, looking down at the couch as she thought. “I met him on the second worst night of my life, the night I killed my father. My father was an evil man....if you can even call him that. In the end he was something else completely. He had to die, if not for what he did to my mother, for what he was going to do to others. But, that doesn't mean it still doesn't haunt me. I had to do it. I had to take his life, with my own hands. It's hard not to be reminded of that when I look at Dante. We have a lot in common, way more than I'd like to admit, but no matter how much time passes I'm still reminded of that night when I'm around him. Maybe that's why he's cold to me at times, he lost Vergil that night. Maybe he can't help but to remember that when he looks at me too.”

“That's terrible.” Trish whispered, she was slowly beginning to realize that painful memories could be dredged up with just a simple question.

“Oh, it's ok. We get along just fine when we need to, and I still consider him a friend. But I suppose we'll never be that close, and that's ok.” She smiled up at Trish. “You know what's kind of funny?”

“Hmm?”

“Despite the fact that we're both demon hunters, and that we tried to kill each other when we first met, tonight is the most normal I've felt in a long time. It's nice to spend time with someone who doesn't bring up bad memories for me, doing normal things that everyday people do.” She mused.

Trish returned the smile, beaming from ear to ear. “I feel the same way.”

And she did, realizing in that moment that she had finally earned something for herself, Lady's trust, her friendship. She'd done it without having to save her life, or double cross her creator. She'd earned Lady's trust simply by following her own path and choosing to fight against evil. By listening to her rant about Dante, by joking around with her when she'd needed it. It wasn't one big moment that brought them together, like with her and Dante. It had been all the small moments, all the gestures that Trish had thought nothing of at the time that made their friendship blossom.

She could feel a deep, yet unfamiliar warmth spreading within her, her smile becoming unyielding in the face of her new realizations. She had a friend, a friend whose trust she'd earned all on her own. For the very first time, Trish felt just like an ordinary woman, and she had to admit, it felt like a breath of fresh air.

#Devil May Cry #Fanfic #writing #lady #Trish #DMC #Mentions of Dante #Minor use of Alcohol #Lady (Devil May Cry)#Trish (Devil May Cry)#Fan Fiction #Short #Short Story #One Shot #Introspection #identity #My Writings

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