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alfredolover119 · 4 years ago

Note

I looooove your zukka rec lists! I recently became Avatar-obsessed, never got a chance to watch it as a kid and only just got through it all! I was wondering if you'd consider doing a specifically angst rec list? I love fluffy zukka everything, but sometimes you just gotta have your heart ripped out of your chest and put back in after being thoroughly blended.

thank you! i relate heavily to “recently became Avatar-obsessed” haha. as for the angst list, i sure can try! warning: all of these have happy endings because im a crybaby who can’t read unhappy endings. also, p much all of the fics in the completed section were featured on my other lists but this is specifically the ANGSTY ones >:^)

angsty zukka wips

first, most obviously, feels like we only go backwards by @oldpotatoe

-currently at 102k with 19/27 chapters posted; rated teen

-the amnesia fic. the amnesia fic. the amnesia fic. you know. i haven’t actually read it yet because, as previously mentioned, i’m a crybaby and am waiting for it to finish up but, from my understanding, this fic will murder you in a dark alleyway with no remorse. if u like zukka angst, you’ve probably already read this, but just in case!

An injury leaves Sokka with amnesia. His last memory is of the failed invasion, of leaving his father behind in enemy territory on the Day of Black Sun. Of hopelessness. Rage. // But then he wakes up, and the war is over. Suddenly, he must come to terms with the fact that years have passed, and that he's somehow the Southern Water Tribe Ambassador to the Fire Nation. He is also supposedly friends with banished-Prince-turned-Fire-Lord Zuko, of all people. Close friends.

Yeah, nah.

and i’ll do anything you say (if you say it with your hands) by @goldrushzukka

-currently 38k with 6/8 chapters posted; rated mature

-holy shit. holy SHIT. modern au based on the “my cat likes my fuckbuddy and i am falling in love” trope(?). maybe it’s just because of how the last chapter ended, but oh my god. this one made me cry. made me want to commit violence. when it’s not angsty as hell, it’s pretty funny, but holy shit. ao3 user nebulastucky please.

It’s supposed to be a one night stand. Pick up some guy at a bar, barely remember his name and never learn anything real about him, send him packing in the morning with a thanks for the ride and a cup of coffee to-go. That’s how it’s supposed to go. // But then it’s the best sex Sokka has ever had, and he thinks he’ll hate himself if he never gets to have it again.

Violet Blossoms and Celestial Objects by @hollypunkers

-currently 15k with 2/? posted. rated teen.

-this is the sequel to blue (an angsty, zukka rewrite of book 2-- go read it if u havent!)! !! this is a book 3 rewrite. only two chapters in and mrs hollypunkers is really abusing the miscommunication tag, as zukka writers seem to enjoy doing. im excited to see how the world and story develops with the changes to the story! you should be too!! its very good! obviously spoilers for blue lmao

Having sided with the Avatar in Ba Sing Se, Zuko not only must navigate his new relationship with Sokka but returning to the Fire Nation as a banished enemy. His own journey of self discovery and personal growth must now coexist alongside the personal struggles of every other member of the Gaang as together they blaze a treacherous path toward an unsure victory against Zuko's own father and nation.

breakable heaven by @fruitysokka

-currently 71k with 9/11 chapters posted. rated teen

-swt ambassador zuko! soon to be chief sokka! fake dating ur best friend to get out of an arranged marriage! what could go wrong!!! i also haven’t read this one ((see: i’m a crybaby who is being hurt by too many zukka wips already)), but it has been hanging out in my marked for later for months. from what i understand, this fic has: angst.

With his twenty-first birthday looming just around the corner, the Southern Water Tribe Elders have decided that Sokka, next in line to be Chief, needs to get married. Sokka does not want that, but he does need to get them off his back until he can figure his way out of it. What better way to do that than to pretend to date his best friend (and newly minted Ambassador to the Southern Water Tribe) Zuko? // Seriously, this is a foolproof plan. Maybe one of Sokka's best. Absolutely nothing can go wrong.

angsty zukka fics (completed!)

(i’ll put these in wc order)

lighthouse beam by @incorrectzukka

-7k, rated g

-a modern college au!! zuko’s inner-monologue is very angsty in this fic. typical zuko. also per usual, theyre both fucking dorks. they sort themselves out in the end, but not before The Angst. zuko is semi-deaf in this fic and also he has a bit of internalized homophobia.

Sokka’s breathtakingly beautiful and he’s smart and makes other people laugh. Zuko has a half-burnt face and a deaf ear. It’s not rocket science. // Or, Zuko falls in love with the boy in his Philosophy class.

This Isn’t My Idea of Fun by @khaleeseas

-9k, explicit

-moon spirit/nwt prince!sokka, no war to be found here! admittedly this isnt THAT angsty but like. the angst IS present. zuko is still the prince. a lovely childhood friends (though they hated each other for a minute haha) to lovers story.

If you asked Zuko, he and Azula saw far too much of Chief Hakoda of the Northern Water Tribe’s children growing up. It wasn’t until they were older, and Azula pointed out that - duh - their families were trying to set them all up, that he realized why. // He was told by his mother to be polite. These people were their friends and allies, and though their nations were as different as they came, harmony between nations was the most important thing. // It wasn’t his fault the Chief’s children were so annoying.

put your lips close to mine (as long as they don’t touch) by @celestialceci

-9k, teen

-modern au! zuko and sokka are college roommates. zuko goes to spend the summer with sokka. again,, not really that angsty but-- its there!! the detail and feeling of Home in this story make me happy. zuko is insecure as hell here too. if ur into that.

Zuko hates his home. He likes college alright, but he likes Sokka even better, his assigned roommate turned best friend. Spending the summer with Sokka will be fun, a welcome change of pace he desperately wants. It probably won't awaken anything in him... right?

the thing about dancing by anodymalion

-9k, teen

-yes. this one right here officer. it makes my heart ache. also trans sokka! which is cool. but the zuko angst in this one. hurts me. not so much relationship angst as it is zuko learning he deserves happiness angst. i’m sure u know The Type.

The first time a attendant spills Zuko’s tea and doesn’t immediately fall to her knees, begging the Fire Lord’s forgiveness, it is not anger but a resounding warmth that fills his chest.

i could (never) give you peace by @zukkababey

-10k, mature

-OUCH. OUCH OUCH OUCH. boys please learn to communicate im begging u. also zuko.. zuko, dude. as the tags of the fic say, hes “really going through it” in this one. YOUCH. post-canon.

Zuko almost said it. He almost said the words I think I’m in love with you, but he choked them back down at the last second. // Zuko would never be able to be what Sokka wanted. They might have needed each other during the summer, when two boys with too much weight on their shoulders found comfort in each other in the only way they knew how. // But now Zuko was Fire Lord, and Sokka was leaving.

this love burns so yellow (becoming orange and in its time, exploding) by @meliebee

-18k, teen, major character death

-i lied. THIS is the one, officer. found family.. good mai and zuko and toph friendships.. . ozai escapes prison and tries to overthrow zuko. OBVIOUSLY angst ensues. poor boy. he Does heal in this but it gets worse before it gets better. angst angst angst angst.

Ten months after Zuko is crowned at seventeen, he faces his first coup.

Anything for You by beersforqueers

-23k, explicit

-istg. this is probably one of my favorite zukka fics. its PAINFUL. modern au where theyre broken up but sokka hasnt told his family yet so zuko goes home with him for kataang wedding. a bit smutty, but the plot oh my god ohgm y fuvk. made me cry the first time i read it. (see: crybaby!me) insert that one picture of the horse with the caption PAIN.

In which Sokka and Zuko have broken up but Sokka hasn't told his family yet. So when Katara and Aang's wedding weekend rolls around and he doesn't want to break Gran-Gran's heart, he asks Zuko to pretend to be his boyfriend for one last weekend. // Things don't go as planned.

Moving Mountains by @thefangirlingdead

-64k, mature

-so. when i read this the first time it was in one sitting. soulmate au set within canon era / the comics, to an extent. soulmates can hear each others thoughts. i will happily say this is slowburn, jesus christ. champagne without the cham.

Soulmates are chosen by the spirits and can hear each other’s thoughts. Sokka thinks it’s cheesy and dumb. Zuko thinks it’s poetic justice that he doesn’t have one because he doesn’t deserve it. Cruel irony is finding out that the prince of the Fire Nation (and the person currently hunting you) is your soulmate.

In the Soft Light by @voidcenturyscholar and @romancedawning

-83k, teen, graphic depictions of violence

-moon spirit!sokka living in the northern water tribe. zuko is sent to the northern water tribe as a cultural liaison. iroh is the fire lord but while he is away taking care of lu ten after his injury ozai steps up. i cannot express how many emotions this fic made me feel. background yuetara. i would almost say found family?? but. anyway. plenty of angst to spare here with a healthy dose of enemies to friends to lovers.

As the newly appointed cultural liaison to Northern Water Tribe, Zuko is the first Fire Nation Citizen to step foot inside the city's walls in nearly a century. He's determined to prove himself—to the Fire Lord and to his father—even if the Water Tribe's spirit-touched prince seems to want nothing to do with him.

That Midnight Sky by @zukkababey

-103k, teen

-now now now. tms... modern college au where sokka agrees to tutor zuko in physics because zuko has to maintain straight a’s and physics is just not doing it for him. so. thats cool but THEN azula moves in, randomly, with zuko. to hide the fact that sokka is tutoring zuko, they fake date! what could go wrong!! the mutual pining in here combined with the angst... wonderful, tasty. everyone read it rn. also SLOWBURN

In Zuko’s strict family, needing a tutor is just about the worst thing you could do. Failing a class, however, is even worse. The only rational solution? Take up Aang on his offer to find him a physics tutor and have Sokka—beautiful, smart, handsome Sokka—tutor him in secret. // When Azula’s arrival threatens to reveal Zuko’s secret, it’s up to Sokka to convince her this definitely isn’t what it looks like. See, he’s actually… Zuko’s… boyfriend? // Hmm. There’s no way this could get complicated, right?

#zukka #zuko #sokka #angst #zukka angst #atla #avatar: the last airbender #fic recs #zukka fic recs

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fortisfiliae · 4 years ago

Text

Promised Part 12 - Tom Riddle x reader

Summary: In this story, Tom didn’t grow up as an orphan, but with his grandfather and uncle. Reader’s sister got very sick and the Gaunts offer their help. But not without asking for something in return.

Disclaimer: Please be aware that I don’t condone any of this in real life. (GIF is not mine)

Warnings: Arranged marriage; it gets a bit sexy, but nothing explicit

Word count: 2.7k

Part 12 - Pillow Talk and Butterbeer

After you had gotten the Foxgloves in Diagon Alley, the only thing you could do for the antidote was to wait. Wait for Nagini to shed and wait for the end of March to arrive, so you could go to the Gaunt manor and look for a flask of Banshee tears. Meanwhile, the cauldron simmered safely in the Come and Go Room. You had to stir it frequently and skim off the foam that built up, so it required a good portion of your time, which was quite worrisome. How would you be able to keep that up when school would start again and you were occupied attending classes? Of course, Tom and you could alternate in doing those tasks, but you didn’t want to bother him with all that constantly. He had to attend to his duties as head boy on top of everything, after all. Well, there had to be a way. It would be manageable somehow.

Even though Hogwarts was almost empty and there weren’t many people around, you hadn’t felt lonely. Not even a bit. Tom and you had gotten closer over the week. Even closer than before and he still showed no signs of annoyance towards you. Which surprised you. You would have thought that he liked to keep to himself a lot, and wouldn’t want to spend a lot of time with someone else, regardless of who it was. But that suspicion turned out to be untrue. Tom had followed you to tend to the potion every single time you had gone there, even if you hadn’t asked him to. He stuck to you like a magnet, which was strange at first, but once you had figured out that he just seemed to thoroughly enjoy your company, you let him.

When the two of you weren’t in the Come and Go Room, or studied for the upcoming semester, you spent your time in bed a lot. The meaning of ‘enjoying the holidays’ suddenly had a different ring to it. You still had not gotten used to his touch, his scent, his faint whisper in your ear. But if you were honest, you didn’t want to ever get used to it. It was too exciting to get that rush, the way your heart started racing, every time his fingers brushed across your skin. Every time your name fell from his lips and when his eyes lingered on your figure when you lay beneath him. Those smiles, rare and subtle, he graced you with between the sheets. No, you would never get used to that.

And Tom had started to talk more. Granted, still not as much as any other person you knew, but it was certainly a step in the right direction. One rainy day, he even opened up and talked about his family. You held hands beneath the blanket, one of your legs was sprawled over him and you had just put your head into a comfortable position between Tom’s shoulder and the cushion, when he just began, out of nowhere.

“Do you remember when you asked me about my parents?” he said. “In your room, at Christmas.”

Your head propped up again so that you could look at him. “I do. Why?”

“Well,” he paused and looked back into your eyes, his voice low and plain. “Do you want to know what happened?”

“Of course. Tell me.”

He laid his head onto the pillow and looked up towards the ceiling while he bit the inside of his cheek.

“My Mother,” he began. “She fell in love with him, Tom Riddle, when she was seventeen. He was a muggle. Filthy and worthless, even though his family was rich. Merlin knows what she saw in him.”

The thought that him being a muggle didn’t define his Father’s worth came to your mind, but it wasn’t your time to speak now.

“He didn’t love her back,” Tom went on. “At least not as much as she wanted him to, apparently. Morfin, her brother, had just finished his schooling for Potion’s mastery, so she snuck into his chambers one night and stole one of his love potions.”

This story wasn’t going to end well. Most love potions, the ones that weren’t sold in joke shops, which were diluted and only meant to last for a few minutes, were illegal. You had learned about the most dangerous ones during Slughorn’s class in sixth year, so that you were able to detect them. One of them, the most powerful one, had attracted everyone’s attention back then. The potion alone was infatuating, even if one had not consumed it yet. Its scent had drawn in every person in the classroom, as it smelled different to everyone, based on what the person liked. You still remembered that striking feeling of needing to take the potion yourself. Obsession was the best way to describe it. All rationality had left you once Slughorn had lifted the cauldron’s cover. No one seemed in their right mind anymore. The mere thought of being at someone’s mercy, without even knowing it, was frightening.

“Amortentia?” you asked.

Tom nodded and you could feel one of his legs bouncing up and down. His voice still was indifferent, as if he was telling you just another irrelevant story.

“She drugged him with it and didn’t tell her family. They wouldn’t have tolerated a muggle as her husband of course. But they secretly got married and when she was pregnant, she broke the charm, thinking he would love her anyway.”

“And?” you asked, hoping that the answer would be different from what you anticipated.

“He didn’t love her obviously. And he ran from her. Left her. Can’t even blame him.”

“He left her when she was pregnant?”

Tom nodded and your heart sank for him. Even though his father’s actions were understandable to an extent, you couldn’t imagine what it must feel like being so unwanted by one of your parents that they would have left before you were even born.

“What happened to her then?” you asked.

“She died while giving birth to me. At least that’s what Marvolo told me.”

“You don’t think she’s dead?”

“Oh, yes I do. I don’t think she died from giving birth.”

“Do you think he… That Marvolo… Killed her?”

Tom shrugged, still looking up at the ceiling. “Possibly. I could see why he would have done it.”

Everyone who knew Marvolo could probably see him do that. That man was evil, to say the least, and seemed to enjoy it when others suffered. But killing his own daughter was something you hadn’t thought anyone, not even the worst person on earth, was able to do without hesitation.

Silence had fallen over the room. You could hear Tom breathing, still collected and slow, contrary to yourself.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered for lack of a better word and held his hand tighter.

“It’s alright,” he answered, his voice sounding like he was the one consoling you when it should have been the other way around. “I have no memory of them. It’s not like I miss her.”

Could you miss someone you never really met? Probably not, you thought. But it was definitely possible to know you missed out.

“And your father?” you asked. “Do you know where he is now?”

Tom let out a sharp breath through his nose as if he was suppressing a laugh. “I don’t think he’s alive either. They never told me, but I assume Marvolo took care of him as well.”

You sighed at his response, turned to lie on your side and rested your head on Tom’s shoulder, your hand leaving his, to hold on to his upper arm.

There had been so much harm, so much betrayal in his life, even before he could have done something to prevent it. No wonder he behaved the way he did. There had never been hope. He never stood a chance.

“I don’t even know what to say,” you mumbled. “Do you wish it could have been different? If you had gotten to know them.”

“You and your wishful thinking,” he said and you could hear the smile in his tone. “I never thought about it. It wouldn’t change reality. It would just make me mad.”

You nodded as a silent way of approval, your fingertips tracing patterns on the curve of his shoulder.

“I do wonder, however,” Tom said and lifted your chin with his hand, so he could look into your eyes. “What my father felt when she put him under her spell with Amortentia.”

His gaze darted back and forth between your eyes and your lips, his fingers still holding up your chin when you blinked.

“The closest thing to love, I assume,” you answered, a breath stuck in your throat. “The replica of it at least, as hollow as it may be.”

Tom still looked at you with a glare as sharp as a butcher knife. He sucked in a breath, pondering, and parted his lips, about to say something. Before he could though, he leaned closer, pinned you down to the mattress and kissed you, his hand wandering from your chin to your neck.

An owl from Camille arrived on one of the last days of the break. Her letter made you smile as you walked across Tom’s room and read it.

“Camille wants to meet up on Sunday, when she’ll be back,” you told Tom, still skimming across her lines. “They are official now, Ben and her.”

“Alright then,” Tom said absentmindedly, his nose in one of the books from the library.

“She asked for you to come too.”

His head rose in confusion. “Me? Why?”

“I think she wants us to go on a double date,” you chuckled. “To the Three Broomsticks. Sunday at five.”

No matter how sure you were of how much Tom enjoyed your presence, he absolutely wasn’t entertaining the idea of spending time with Ben Hilt. And about that, he was very clear. He had asked you a couple of times if you were sure that Camille meant for him to come and had tried many ways of escaping that date, but alas, you dragged him there.

“Four Butterbeers,” Ben ordered after you had sat down at a table together.

Ben sat opposite to Tom, who was more than obviously annoyed by the fact he even had to be there. You patted his thigh, ordering him to behave, to which Tom eyed you seriously. Camille and you both bit back the smirks on your faces, while Ben tried his best to be friendly.

“So,” he said, looking at Tom and you. “How were the holidays?”

“Mind your own business,” Tom murmured, which luckily no one but you had heard.

“Good,” you spoke over him and pushed your elbow against Tom’s side. “Quiet. Not many people around.”

“Oh, you stayed in school, didn’t you?” Ben asked. “You both?”

Tom didn’t answer and looked back at Ben without a hint of emotion on his face. You nodded and smiled.

“How about you?“ you asked. „What have you done? Have you met up?”

“Oh, yes we did,” Camille said. “Ben introduced himself to my parents and then took me to the cinema.”

“Cinema?” Tom and you asked simultaneously.

You had heard of cinemas before of course. But you had never been. Movies were a muggle invention, and even though it sounded tempting, you had never had a chance to go.

“Yes,” Camille confirmed. “We watched ‘Dead of Night’. That’s what it’s called, right?”

Ben nodded as he swung his arm around Camille’s shoulder. “Horror movies. My favourite.”

“Why would you do that?” Tom asked and took his cup from the server, who had come up with your order. “Go to the cinema. That’s such a muggle thing to do.”

“Oh, you’ve never been, huh?” Ben asked. “None of you have, have you?”

“You should have seen his face when I told him,” Camille laughed. She had, similar to you, grown up in a pureblood family as well.

“And you should’ve seen mine when I went to her house,” Ben added. “I’m still not used to wizard’s homes, you know. They’re so different. I like them.”

Tom stiffened next to you.

“You’re muggleborn?” he asked, his mouth agape.

“Indeed mate. Didn’t you know?”

“You’re a mu-… muggleborn,” Tom stammered and looked over to Camille. “But you, you’re a pureblood, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” Camille said, a baffled smile on her face.

Tom still had a hard time believing what he had just heard. “And you… You two. Even though…”

“Tom,” you whispered, trying to escape both Camille and Ben’s amused looks, and patted him on the thigh again.

“Excuse me,” he cleared his throat and motioned with his hand. “I just. I didn’t know.”

“Well now you do,” Ben shrugged before taking a big sip of his butterbeer. “Best of both worlds, am I right?”

“Right,” you said when Tom didn’t answer.

Changing the subject seemed necessary, but you couldn’t think of anything worth talking about. The only thing you had been doing was tending to the potion, and that was something you would rather keep a secret.

“The worst thing is that none of you folks have phones at home,” Ben went on.

“Phones?” Tom asked.

“Telephones. You can call other people and talk to them.”

“I wish I had one,” said Camille. “I told my father about it and he thinks it’s a great idea. Maybe we’ll get one of those ‘phones’.”

That was interesting. To talk to someone directly, even if they weren’t there? No apparating, no Floo Network. Muggles might have been weak, but they sure knew how to handle their handicaps.

“Why would you need to do that?” Tom asked. “Talk to someone on the phone.”

“Well, it spares a lot of time. No need for owls or letters. You just pick it up from the hook and speak.”

Tom seemed to think about it for a moment. Then he shook his head. “But owls do the job just fine.”

“Not as quickly,” Ben grinned.

“Well, then I’ll send an urgent owl if I need my message to arrive sooner.”

Ben stifled a laugh and took another drink. “I mean, of course, mate.”

“I think it’s interesting,” you said. “And you only hear the voice of the other person? You can’t see them, right?”

“Exactly.”

“Fascinating,” you mumbled. “What other things do you have that we don’t?”

Ben looked into his cup for a moment and hummed. “Well, muggles invented the train, which we all use to go to school.”

“Oh,” Camille gasped. “Wait until he tells Tom about cars.”

Tom clicked his tongue. “Of course I know about cars.”

“Have you driven one?” Ben asked.

“No. Obviously not.”

“You should one day,” Ben gushed. “My father got a 1943 Bentley recently. Technically I’m not allowed to drive it, because I don’t have a license. But I’ve seen Father drive a lot. So I borrowed the car one night and it was life-changing.”

Tom took a drink and raised one brow. “I’d rather just apparate.”

“Yes, that’s great too. But it doesn’t have the same feeling. It’s really liberating. And much more comfortable than brooms. I could take you all on a ride someday in summer. The car fits four people.”

“Why?” Tom asked before you could agree.

Ben raised his eyebrows again, a smile still plastered on his face. “For fun?”

“For fun,” Tom repeated and looked at you as if to ask you what Ben was trying to tell him.

“You should do more things just for fun, mate,” Ben chuckled. “Might help against that constant frown.”

Camille and you laughed quietly, both turning your faces away from the boys and you bit your tongue. Tom straightened his posture, his eyes darting across the table, apparently thinking hard.

“We’ll see about that,” he said and raised his glass. “Mate.”

Please consider leaving a comment and tell me what you think so far :) They motivate me so much to keep writing! Let me know if you want to be tagged, or untagged. Thank you for reading!

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sgtbradfords · 4 years ago

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I just had an idea and I don’t think anyone wrote about it yet 🙈

SE2E12 when Lucy takes down that guy at the speed dating place

Any chance you would write something on that?

Lucy shutting down, nayla and Harper not being able to help her and having to call Tim to come and help

This turned out really cute and I am kinda happy with how it turned out... I hope you enjoy anon! :)

Lucy Chen thought they would be going to a bar or a club for her first girl’s night out with Nyla Harper and Angela Lopez. But no, what the two officers had planned was so much worse.

Speed dating.

As soon as she read the white words on the hideous pink sign, her fight or flight response kicked in. She wanted to run but knowing her two friends, they would never allow that. She tried talking her way out of it, didn’t work. So, she took the only option left, being to rope them into their own scheme.

‘Trust your judgement.’ They said. ‘Control the environment.’

‘Bullshit.’ Lucy thought as she took a seat, a sip of liquid courage coursing through her veins.

The night had started off decent, easily picking out the creeps to be vague to and actively ignoring the weirdos who sent a shiver down her spine. Though, she was not much better, as she came off a little too forward with the men that sat down in the seat across from her.

The buzzer sounded, announcing the end of the night as she and the last prospect, Isaiah stood. He told her he had a good evening, to which she off-handedly agreed. She heard him before she could see him as he reached out, pulling at the loose thread on her sweater.

She reacted instantly, his hands were moving towards her and all she could think about was the last time a set of unwanted hands approached her.

Lucy had him on the floor with his hands secured behind his back in eight seconds flat, Nyla and Angela running over when Lucy laid him out.

“Hey.” Nyla told her placing a hand on her shoulder, bringing her out of her daze. “You’re ok. It’s alright.”

She could hear the shrieks of people being startled around her, Angela’s voice foggy as she spoke to the man she just laid out. Her breathing increased rapidly, adrenaline coursing through her veins as her heart pounded in her chest.

Lucy never heard the question that Nyla was asking as she pulled out of the hold the other woman had on her arm. Her body moved on it’s own accord, her feet carrying her quickly, returning her to the car she had vacated not even an hour earlier, pulling on the handle of the car, sitting down in the passenger seat before she hit the automatic lock button, locking the doors.

“Hey, Chen?” said Nyla as she knocked on the window.

Lucy took a shaky breath to steady herself, focusing on grounding her mind.

“Lucy?” Angela asked as she pulled on the handle of the locked door, hitting the button of her car, unlocking it.

Lucy’s right hand hovered over the switch panel, pressing the button to lock the doors back.

Angela hit it again, only for the occupant of the vehicle to lock it back.

“Seriously. What do we do?” she asked looking over the top of the vehicle.

Nyla pulled out her phone, her thumb scrolling on the screen before pressing the glass, moving the phone to her ear. “Hey. You busy? Yes, I know you’re off duty. We’ve kinda got a situation. I mean kinda like you’ll find out when you get here. We’re in the pay by the hour parking lot on 42nd street. You can’t miss us.” She said before ending the call, placing the phone back into the back pocket of her jeans. “Well, this has been an experience.”

“He on his way?”

Nyla nodded, leaning back on the car. “Relax, she’s not going to budge.”

Angela glanced into the car, standing between the car and the one next to it, keeping an eye on the woman sitting in the passenger seat.

“You meet anyone interesting?”

Nyla snorted, telling Angela about the guy who got up and ran from the table holding a hand to his mouth, and the one she thoroughly grossed out, telling her the stories she had told them.

“What about you?” Angela had just asked when a familiar truck pulled in off the road.

Tim Bradford pulled his truck into the parking lot, stopping at the automated machine to pay for parking, grabbing his ticket before pulling up behind the car he knew all too well. He put the vehicle in park, pressing the button to roll down the passenger side window. “I’m not going to be your DD Harper.”

Nyla walked over to the truck, resting her arms on the sill of the window. “We may have done something stupid.”

“Define stupid.”

Angela walked over, joining Nyla as she looked at the driver guiltily. “I may have pushed Lucy too hard.”

Tim’s face dropped, concern quickly taking over before he could mask the emotion. “What did you do?” he asked as he unbuckled, opening the door of the truck.

Angela shared a look with Nyla, “We may have gone speed dating.”

Tim stared her as he rounded the truck. “You what?”

“She agreed, after some encouragement and bribing.”

“Speed dating.” Tim said as he ran a hand over his face. “What happened?”

“She had a loose string on her shirt and one of the imbeciles tried to pull it without telling her.” Nyla began telling him.

“Then she laid him out. It was impressive really.”

“Not the point Angela. Listen, we tried to calm her down, but she ran out of there and locked herself in the car.”

Sighing Tim moved towards the driver’s side of the car. “Unlock the car.”

Angela hit the button, Tim opening the door simultaneously, getting in behind the wheel before he pulled the door close.

Lucy stared ahead as the vehicle shook, her training officer sliding into the seat next to her, his chest against the steering wheel as his left-hand moved to his side, fumbling with the buttons on the side of the seat.

“How the hell does Ang drive like this?” he grumbled as the seat began sliding all the way back, his long legs slowly unfolding. “So, what happened boot?”

Lucy held a hand to her face, her elbow resting in-between the glass of the window and the door as she continued staring ahead, watching the things moving around the outside world of the vehicle.

“You’re uncharacteristically quiet.”

“Are you here as my boss or as my friend?” She asked, moving her hand down from her face as she began to wring her fingers.

Tim thought for a second, hesitating before answering. “Friend.” They were friends and they were coworkers but somehow, they were also more than that, their working chemistry setting the base of their friendship outside the four sides of the shop.

“I thought I was ready.” She sighed.

“For?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Something more.”

Tim nodded. “It’s only been two months boot. Your recovery isn’t something that will fix itself overnight.”

Lucy somberly let out a lone laugh. “Like hell it will! I’m tired Tim. I’m tired of the pity, I’m tired of the looks, tired of it all. I just want to put it behind me, live a normal life.”

“I know.” He whispered. “But neither one of us has a time machine Chen.”

“Tim, it wasn’t-“

“Don’t. Don’t say it wasn’t my fault. I’m the one who- I almost lost you Lucy.” He told her, his voice cracking at the admission.

“We talked about this the other night. What happened was neither here nor there and both of us are going to have to move on from it sooner or later.”

Tim knew that his rookie was growing restless, the outcome of those twenty-four hours still eating away at her. “I think… what you need, is to find an outlet.”

“An outlet.” She stated, turning her head to face him.

“Something that takes the stress off, where your thoughts disappear and I don’t mean paintball, something a little more strenuous.”

Lucy snorted, rolling her eyes. “Isn’t that what sex is for?”

“That’s not a healthy outlet.”

“And what, Officer Bradford, is your healthy outlet?”

“I have a few, one of them being running.” He told her shrugging. “I try, every day, to run. In the morning, in the evening, doesn’t matter. If you hold onto the shit that we see on the job, you’re going to implode.”

She nodded. “So, what would you suggest?”

“Everyone’s different, you just have to find something that works for you.”

Lucy mulled over his words, silence enveloping the car before she took the opportunity to speak. “Thank you.”

“I would say anytime Chen but you’re making me miss Thursday night football.”

Lucy shoved his shoulder. “I’m sorry for ruining your Thursday with my insecurities.”

Tim flashed her a smile. “We all have our days boot. I do have to say that I wouldn’t mind seeing the video of you putting this guy in his place though.”

“What, so you can critique me?”

“No, so I can see you laying this guy out on his ass.” He said with pride in his voice. “Then critique you.”

A knock sounded on the driver side window. “If you two are done with whatever this is,” Angela said, gesturing between the two “we would like to get out of here.”

“Find an outlet boot.” He said as he pulled the handle of the door, his tall frame exiting the car. “You three text me when you get home.”

“Awwwe look Ang, I think he’s worried.” Nyla teased as Tim walked back towards his waiting truck, the man raising his right hand up the air as he flashed his middle finger.

It took several days and shifts to find what he was talking about, but as she wrapped her hands in tape, a bag of sand hanging in front of her, she took the advice given to her to heart. Lucy couldn’t help the smile that overtook her as she replayed the conversation that followed the disaster that was the other night as she began hitting the swaying bag. ‘Find an outlet boot.’

“Bring your elbow up.” A voice spoke from a few feet behind her causing her to jump.

“Giving boxing advice now are we Officer Bradford?”

Tim shrugged off the bag on his shoulder, letting it fall to the ground. “No but, I would rather you hit the bag properly than have a bummed wrist tomorrow and us get into a shootout.”

Lucy jabbed the bag. “Sounds like advice to me.”

He rolled his eyes. “Do you want my help or not?”

She stopped the swaying bag, grasping it with both hands. “Fine.”

Tim stepped closer, moving into her line of sight as he stood next to the bag. He began critiquing her, Lucy adjusting her stance and positioning countless times as he began placed a pair of boxing pads on his hands. “Enough with the bag. Hit me boot.”

“What?” she said in astonishment. “I’m not-“

“You will Chen, hit me.”

Lucy took a swing at him, missing him as he ducked. “Again.” He ordered.

She forcefully swung her right arm, her throw landing on the soft padding. “Good. Again.”

They kept it up, Tim counteracting her throws and punches, throwing in his own punches that she successfully blocked for the most part.

“See? Outlet.” He told her as he pulled a bottle of water from his bag, taking a sip.

Lucy began unwrapping her wrists, wading the tape into a ball. “Thanks, Tim.”

“You’ve got a mean right hook but your uppercut could use some work. We’ll meet back here in two days boot.” He told her, gathering his bag, moving towards the door.

“Don’t I spend enough time with you already?”

Tim turned around, smirking. “Two days boot.”

Lucy sighed, turning around mumbling under her breath. “He’s lucky I like him.”

“Heard that!” he yelled as the door closed.

#the rookie fic #chenford fic #chenford fanfic #tim bradford x lucy chen #fanfic #chenford

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laceymorganwrites · 4 years ago

Text

Callous heart

Word count: 1,749

Pairing: Kitsune!Suna x Human!reader

Warnings: swearing

Summary: Suna watches you from afar, wanting nothing more than to protect you. He decides it´s better to do it from a distance.

You live in a village where foxes are worshiped, Suna, being one of those, hates the fact that his kind aren´t what you make them out to be.

A/N: "At war with the world, yet worlds apart To return is a promise I can't make You see, we together have The Callous Heart Because Callous Hearts don't break." - Creeper, Black Rain (it just fits so well, I had to share it)

Taglist: @wansseul @newfriendjen @varia-venus @luvsuna

Event masterlist

In the small village you grew up in, people believed in fox deities.

They made offerings to them in the form of crops and overall parts of the harvest in hopes to be guided to heaven after they died.

Foxes were worshiped in your area, it was the only thing that kept the villagers going in their secluded life.

Travelers who came through your village always were interested to hear about the legends.

Your family was always so nice and welcoming to everyone, their warmth and kindness passing down onto you.

A lot of elderly people settled down in your village as well as it was so peaceful.

The appearing of foxes wasn´t uncommon whatsoever, they were as much inhabitants as humans.

Maybe that´s why they were worshiped. In mythology they usually were looked down upon as tricksters who only meant trouble, but because you were living together in peace, you came to the belief that they were giving you their good will.

Thus the fascination for foxes was born. You couldn´t help but notice how cunning and elegant they were, how perceptive.

Sometimes the foxes got injured and you´d treat them, having your own little clinic and shop for travelers where you sold salves and ointments.

The day your parents passed, the foxes guided them to the afterlife.

However, the way you saw the foxes and the way they truly were, were two different things.

They were supposed to guide people to hell, easing their way to sin, tempting them and bringing them to ruin.

That was their sole purpose.

And Suna fucking hated it.

It was way too much work every single damn time.

Besides, why should he bring someone to ruin who helped him out his entire life? Who healed his wounds and watched over him?

Because Suna refused to do his work for the devil, he got exiled from his pack, now living in your village with other foxes like him.

You were his favorite human though, you didn´t seem to judge, your kindness and smile were infectious and most importantly you had that warm and comforting aura around you.

Suna often wondered what it would be like to show himself to you in his true form, but he never dared, not wanting to scare you.

The demon foxes looked human enough, but then again, there were the ears and the nine tails.

Yet, he didn´t really have any other choice.

Every full moon, he needed to change into his original form because otherwise he´d be stuck as a fox.

He wouldn´t really mind it that much, but it was such a bother not to follow this routine he had for the past century.

Besides, somehow he felt as if something bad would happen if he didn´t change back on this fateful night.

Suna went into the woods to transform, it was a peaceful and quiet night. The villagers celebrated the full moon with a big campfire and food.

It always was a nice get together in which everyone exchanged stories, most of the travelers came through on the full moon as well.

Other demon foxes would die for the opportunity to wreak havoc and chaos here, to manipulate the minds of the humans and then lead them into hell, but Suna wouldn´t let that happen.

Not over his dead body.

You lived in this village and he´d rather let himself get tortured in hell than to sell you out like that.

Him and his friends protected your village with their magic, it drained them a bit, but it was worth it.

You´ve always been so kind to them, you didn´t deserve a forced death.

All Suna wanted was for you to be able to live your life the way you wanted to, to its fullest, without any cruel interruptions, without any ill intended temptations.

Suna was too caught up in his thoughts, he didn´t even notice you approaching.

To be fair, you didn´t quite notice him in the woodwork, too busy carrying firewood for the festival.

Only when you were gone, did he let out the breath he was holding and finished his transformation.

Though, he concealed his ears and tails.

It was stupid and reckless, but this time Suna was the one being tempted, tempted for a false sense of humanity.

He made his way through the woods, following your trail to find his way to the campfire.

Everyone was preparing and working with each other, you and some others prepared the fire while the rest carried logs to sit on and tables to put the food and drinks on.

The laughter and chatting could be heard throughout the forest even, it brought a smile to Suna´s lips.

Why could anyone want to destroy all that happiness? What did you ever do to deserve that?

You caught Suna´s eyes and walked over to him, greeting him with a big smile.

“You must be a traveler, I haven´t seen you before” you started talking to him in a friendly tone and Suna felt touched to his core, nobody ever treated him like an equal.

Yet he still felt bad for fooling you. Maybe one day he´d have the courage to reveal himself to you.

He nodded in response, affirming your statement.

“How long do you plan on staying? Or are you just coming through? Either way, you´ve come at the perfect time, we´re having a festival for the full moon. Please join us” you told him, grabbing his hand to lead him towards the campfire.

Suna´s eyes went wide. You just… touched him… why did that make him feel so warm inside?

He followed you and sat down on one of the logs after you told him so. To be honest, he felt a bit out of place, not being used to being part of anything.

But he enjoyed it. He felt welcome.

Though it was quite unusual and Suna had trouble fitting in, he felt at ease.

He felt at ease doing what he always did, watching over you, making sure nobody would come between you and your happiness.

Listening to the stories the elders told him about the legends and all, he found himself smiling to himself.

Oh how wrong they were. But he couldn´t tell them, he couldn´t bring himself to.

“Isn´t it beautiful?” you sat down next to him, looking up at the sky, now painted golden with the fire.

Your eyes were sparking with excitement and it was infectious, Suna found himself nodding along to everything you said, listening to you thoroughly.

“You´re not one to talk, are you?” you giggled, making the faintest blush appear on his cheeks.

“Talking´s too much of a bother” he admitted, Suna preferred to stay to himself, besides, talking only meant sharing things about himself and honestly, that could be dangerous.

“But how am I gonna get to know you if you don´t talk?” you asked curiously, lightly tapping his shoulder.

There it was again, that curious, sunny smile that just made him melt.

He shouldn´t be here.

It wasn´t right, it wasn´t his place.

“You shouldn´t get to know me” and yet, he couldn´t stop himself, enjoying your presence way too much to let it go.

“You do know that that´s only gonna make me want to know you more” you giggled.

Suna sighed, looking into your eyes the first time and getting lost.

“Come on, tell me something about yourself, stranger” you teased, you were quite persistent and Suna realized in this moment that he made a huge mistake.

He should´ve never interfered with you, never shown himself to you.

You´d only get hurt that way. Hurt because of him.

But it was too late, Suna got carried away, protecting you and watching you from afar.

Catching feelings for a human… how pathetic.

How was he supposed to help it, though? You made it too easy.

“Suna… that´s my name” he said quietly before it was too late.

What did he even try here? He shouldn´t talk to you, he shouldn´t tell you anything about himself…

If he did, he´d fall even more for you, be more vulnerable. He´d want to show himself to you more and that couldn´t happen.

If it did, he´d have to tell you the truth about him, his kind.

He never wanted to hurt you like that, he wanted you to live a peaceful life without demon foxes interfering.

“I´m (Y/N), it´s nice to meet you!” you smiled and shook his hand, making him chuckle slightly.

You were so formal, yet so excited at the same time, it made him happy.

“So, Suna, what brings you here?” you asked, watching him stare off into the distance.

He thought about that for a while, deciding to tell the truth, it was too late anyway, he already revealed too much.

“I wanted to get away from my family. They´re very… violent in the way they think. I´m a disappointment to them because I don´t want to participate in their ways. I just needed to get away” he confessed.

You gently placed a hand on Suna´s arm for comfort.

“I´m sorry you had to go through that, but you´re always welcome here” you let him know and the worst thing was that you meant it. You were actually willing to let a demon reside in your village.

Suna realized that he wasn´t any better than the rest of his kind, he was fooling you just as much, bringing just as much ruin upon you.

“You have a good soul, (Y/N). Please never change” he stated, his pain emitting from the words as he patted your head as a gesture of goodbye.

Suna shouldn´t interfere with your life. He didn´t have any right to.

Instead he just enjoyed the evening with you until he went back into the woods, strengthening the protecting spell once again before returning to hell.

It wasn´t in the same state as it was when he left. The new ruler was much more kind than the last one, welcoming him back and offering him to bring souls in the way he wanted to.

Suna felt at peace.

Sure, he had decided to leave you alone, not giving you the chance to get to know him in fears of hurting you, but he´d still be able to lead you to the afterlife when your time came.

Somehow that made him happy, happy to be reunited with you at some point, to be able to explain and apologize.

#haikyuu #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu oneshot #haikyuu scenario #haikyuu suna #halloween event #suna rintaro #suna x reader #suna imagine #suna oneshot #suna scenario #hq #hq imagine #hq oneshot #hq scenario #hq suna

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yangsrose · 4 years ago

Text

Cheater Route: No (ending two)

Word Count: 2k words

Warnings: none

Authors Notes: here it is!! after a long 3 1/2 months i had finally written the second no ending to cheater. i just wanted to say, thank you for reading this series. this has been so much fun to write, and i thoroughly enjoyed writing this whole series. okay! let’s get started!!

Find the rest of the “Cheater” series here

The next morning was rough. Seeing YangYang after all those years caused you to remember all the memories that you shared, and frankly, the past two years of erasing the memories of YangYang went down the drain as you saw his girlfriend - no scratch that - fiancee walk down the road with him, arms intertwined.

You sighed and got out of bed, making your way into the bathroom where you were met by your own reflection. You gasped a little, not being able to recognise the person that stared back at you. Saying that your reflection was a mess was an understatement. Your eyes were puffy and swollen, most likely from the excessive crying that happened. Your face looked gaunt and pale, as if someone had somehow sucked the life out of you. Stray tear marks were evident on your face and you slowly turned on the tap to wash off the remnants of last night’s smudged make up.

After washing your face, you walked into the kitchen to make yourself some breakfast. Your phone lay neglected on the ground after you ran into your apartment last night and threw your purse onto the couch, phone sliding out and making its way to the hard, cold surface. You picked it up from its place on the ground and plugged it in to charge, mentally scolding yourself for throwing it so carelessly onto the ground. While waiting for your phone to charge, you sat down at the table and held your bowl close to you, eating your breakfast. You heard a multitude of pinging noises being emitted from your phone, and you picked it up to check who was contacting you at this time. When you saw who however, you gasped and dropped your phone, a feeling of guilt over taking your body.

After running out mid dinner last night, you had completely forgotten about your date who was probably extremely confused as to why you ran out on him like that. You immediately called him, mentally praying that he would pick up the phone. After what seemed like forever, you heard a small “hello?” come from behind the speaker of your phone. You lunged forward and earnestly started spewing out apologies for leaving him behind. You explained to him how you saw someone that you really didn’t like and how seeing him after all these years caused you to panic and run out. He seemed to understand, sympathetically adding side comments in regards to your behaviour yesterday.

“Is it okay if we meet up later today for breakfast? I want to try and make up for leaving you in the restaurant.” you asked, nervously picking at your nails.

“I would like that.” You sighed in relief, hearing the smile at the end of his sentence.

You made your way to the small café, looking inside to see if you were late. You looked inside and saw your date sitting at one of the tables, scrolling through his phone. You rushed into the café and walked over to the table, sitting down at the empty table.

The man in front of you looked absolutely ethereal with his soft brown hair brushed to the side, parting a little in the middle to show his forehead. He muttered a small “hello” while giving you a shy smile.

“Hi Xiaojun,” you said, muttering your own hello to him. An awkward silence hung over the both of you as you tried to find a topic to converse with him about.

“I don’t want to intrude in your privacy but what happened last night?” Xiaojun asked, awkwardly coughing while doing so. You took a deep breath and explained to him how you ran into your ex boyfriend, but then you had to backtrack and explain how you broke up with YangYang. At the end of your story, you were breathless and near tears. Xiaojun sympathetically looked at you, understanding the feeling of seeing someone that you loved falling in love with someone else.

Even after a few hours of sitting with each other, you and Xiaojun never became bored with your conversation; instead you both went on many tangents as you found more topics to converse on. You began to notice the dwindling number of people in the café, leading you to make the conclusion that it was in fact time to go back home. You got up from your table and pushed your chair in, thanking Xiaojun for the brunch. Xiaojun smiled and thanked you for spending time with him, causing your heart to beat at an unreasonable pace. You mentally scolded yourself for catching feelings on just the second date with him, but a small piece of your heart forgave you.

As you drove home, your thoughts were filled with Xiaojun. You had been wary of going on a date with him since your friend had set you up, and frankly, you weren’t ready for your heart to be entrusted with someone else despite it being two years after your breakup with YangYang. You sighed and let the entire thing play out, not wanting to get too involved in the soon to become relationship.

Xiaojun however, understood exactly how you felt. Knowing that you had come out of a nasty relationship, he never pushed you to do anything that you didn’t feel comfortable doing, instead, he would make sure to take everything as slowly as he could, not wanting to rush you into doing something that you weren’t comfortable with. You admired that quality of his, never wanting to make you feel like you were the one at fault even though you blamed yourself for not being able to feel comfortable with doing everything that normal couples did. Xiaojun knew that you needed time to heal, and he was willing to give you that.

Throughout your relationship, you noticed how different Xiaojun and YangYang were. For one, dates with YangYang were very spontaneous and high energy, usually taking place in an arcade or game center. Dates with Xiaojun were very calm and put together, usually ending up with the both of you going to a café or walking in the park. YangYang and you were the meme couple that everyone aspired to be, whereas Xiaojun and you were the cute, candid couple that everyone wanted to be. After a few months of dating Xiaojun, you learned to stop comparing YangYang to Xiaojun, finally being at peace with the fact that he was finally out of your life.

Now, here you were three years later. You and Xiaojun had been dating for four years now, and over the previous year, Xiaojun had proposed to you. You remember the tears that wouldn’t stop flowing down your face as you accepted his proposal, finally feeling your heart be free at the fact that you found someone you could trust. You twisted the cold metal band on your finger, feeling the tears well up once again. You fanned your face, looking into the mirror as you inspected your outfit. Crisp white fabric framed your figure and trailed down, giving you an ethereal look. You looked in the mirror, feeling satisfied at your appearance. After you did a final check of your outfit, you smiled and walked out, ready to start your new life.

During the reception, you met all of Xiaojun’s family members that you hadn’t before, meeting a vast number of cousins and friends that you never knew existed. You were laughing as something one of Xiaojun’s cousins said until you felt a small tap on your shoulder. You turned around to see who had tapped you, but nothing would be able to prepare you for the shock that you would face.

Standing in front of you was YangYang in all his glory. He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, mumbling a “can we talk?” before looking up to make eye contact with you. You hasty excused yourself and followed YangYang, feeling your heart thump out of anticipation of what he was going to tell you. You two stopped in a secluded area near the food, not wanting anyone to potentially eavesdrop on your conversation.

“So you and Xiaojun huh” YangYang said, trailing off. You nodded your head and continued to study his features, noticing how they were much different in comparison to six years ago when you broke up with him. He looked more mature, and the sly, slightly mischievous features had almost completely worn off, erasing the spontaneous, fun loving boy that he was.

“I have a confession to make.” he said, breaking the awkward silence that surrounded you. You prompted him to go on, not knowing what would spew out of his mouth.

“When we broke up, I know that your friends set you up on blind dates to get you to forget about me. Even though it hurt me a lot, I still felt happy that you were happy, even if that meant that you were with someone else. So when I saw that you were still single, I sent one of your friend’s Xiaojun’s contact information and told them that he would be a good pick for you.” YangYang said, not looking up from the spot in the ground that he was intensely studying.

“So you’re trying to tell me all of this,” you waved, gesturing to the decorations, “is all because of you?” YangYang sheepishly nodded and fiddled with his fingers, not knowing if you were reacting out of anger or happiness. You felt your eyes tear up and YangYang finally looked up at you, not hearing any reaction come from you. Upon seeing the tears in your eyes, he immediately panicked, lunging for the napkins on the table. You accepted them and sobbed a choked “thank you” out, finding it unbelievable that YangYang had set you up with Xiaojun. YangYang gave you a bittersweet smile, feeling happy that you were happy even if you weren’t dating him. After all, that’s what love does to a person.

After you had calmed down a bit, you finally remembered the girl that YangYang was dating, and felt curious as to how his life was going.

“I broke up with her a long time ago.” he said, sighing softly.

“Turns out karma hit me and she ended up cheating on me.” you looked at YangYang with sympathy in your eyes, knowing exactly how he must have felt.

“It’s fine though. I never really loved her so I don’t know why I dated her” he said, shrugging lightly.

You smiled at the male in front of you, seeing how much he- and you- had grown not only physically, but also mentally in the time of not seeing him. Past you would have definitely grown feelings for YangYang talking with him like this, and would have caused you to take him back, leading you to probably never even meet Xiaojun. Now, you were stable in the way that you were interacting with YangYang, coming into terms that you had gotten over him.

“Thank you YangYang.” you said, looking up at him with the most sincerity in your eyes. He smiled, and you saw the familiar gummy smile that you came to love.

“Friends again?” he asked, stretching out his shaky hand. You took his hand and muttered your own “friends” before breaking out into a smile of your own. YangYang smiled and looked behind you, noticing how someone was coming up to the pair. YangYang smiled even wider and hurried over to Xiaojun, giving him a big hug as a greeting.

“I see you already met YangYang.” Xiaojun said, smiling at you. You nodded and told him that he was a friend from high school. Xiaojun currently didn’t know that YangYang was the person that cheated on you, but you figured that you would tell him later.

YangYang waved bye and told you both that he had to get going, noticing how late it had become. You and Xiaojun bid him goodbye and went back to your spots, socialising with everyone. You sighed, feeling content with the fact that everything seemed to work out for you. Even though you hit a few roadblocks during your relationships, you finally found the person that you truly belonged to. You looked over to Xiaojun and studied his side profile, smiling unconsciously as you did so.

You had finally found your home.

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seb-owns-these-tatas · 4 years ago

Text

Witcher of the Night (Chapter 23.1)

I KNOW MY EDIT SUCKED. HEH. That’s my book cover in Wattpad. Couldn’t post CHAPTER 23.2 there because the application is glitching and I’m annoyed af. Anyway, enjoy this chapter for WOTN.

CHAPTER 23

WOTN MASTERLIST

Characters: Geralt of Rivia x small!Naive!Reader

Summary: Maybe a witch isn't the key for your getaway because it could be deeper than that.

Warnings: The summary sucked. I couldn't write anything to avoid spoilers. LMAO. Curses. Tybalt and Geralt banter/hate for each other? 😂 Rohesia is my OC, not connected to any of the games or books. The witcher character named Gerd (AHA. I'VE INTENTIONALLY DID THIS. Surprised to see a stomach sickness used as a name lmao jk 😂) from the Bear school has been used. Bethleheigm is also a made up kingdom from moi. 😂 (Pronounced as Beth-le-haym)

Words: 4.3k

A/N: I know Kaer Morhen is located in Kaedwen. Damn it. I lately knew it when I was already half way through this fic and I can't change it anymore. Let's just say...oof. They'll eventually go there. Don't worry. Oop. Is it a spoiler? 😭

TAGLIST IS STILL OPEN FOR THIS ONE! Heehee! Don’t forget to REBLOG, COMMENT OR GIVE FEEDBACK IF YOU DID LOVE THIS CHAPTER! IT’LL MAKE ME SMILE! Sorry for the grammatical errors and such because English isn’t my mother tongue! PLEASE LEAVE FEEDBACK AFTER READING, BB! I apologize for errors!

Disclaimer: PNG's and pictures used in edits are not mine even the GIF's too. (Credits to the rightful owners of the gifs, it’s written in the lower part of their gifs. Though, some don’t. Still, credits to them. If you want it to be removed, just kindly message me) The edits and this fanfic is definitely from moi. Character development and personalities are based from my understanding and how I want them to be. This has no connection towards the books or games.

MY WORKS ARE NOT NOT NOT NOT NOOOOOOT TO BE POSTED ON ANY OTHER WEBSITES. My official username in Wattpad is “TATATHEPOTATO” and that’s the only other site I have for writing aside from Tumblr. Thank you, Tater tots!

DAY THREE CAME QUICKLY THAN WHAT WAS EXPECTED. Taking the shorter route to keep the proximity of hours easier for traveling back faster to Kaedwen. Geralt and Tybalt had an allayed journey towards the outskirts of Bethleheigm.

If a narrator was utterly dramatic, he or she could say that the witcher was beyond exhausted over being with the higher vampire because he only knew how to gall him over and over---a deathless cycle through out their travel, side by side with their own horses and vexation over each other. Yet, Geralt rarely has given him his energy for a battle that was pathetic as it ends.

They've both shared a night somehow. Their backs meters away from each other. With Geralt and his sarcasm never shutting one's eye until Tybalt was cursing him out under the moon light because the white wolf warned him not to think about hunting people to quench his thirst for blood. The higher vampire was left throwing him a pebble on his back and muttering how the full moon won't be until the day of the feast in the castle where he would technically celebrate over being a vampire but this choice could also be eradicated since blood was not in the highest scale in his pyramid law of needs.

Nights weren't the only thing shared between the two. Unbeknownst to them till Geralt was humming in displeasure, they've actually shared a drink of your home made ale. Tybalt commented how it was as good as Kaedwenian stout---perhaps, even better. Mentioning that the beer was probably made of your love for him which made the witcher scrunch his nose for how cheesy it sounded. Tybalt even declared numerical reasons as to why he kept you with him until today because you knew how to make his drunkard self swoon over your culinary skills.

Your cookery abilities were still different and utmost impressive than Geralt's regardless of how he has been used to embellishing his own food alone before. His midget's skills were technically amazing, add up the peculiar recipes that only you know---but, actually existed in earth---your earth. Those recipes that could get his family and him included, humming in deliciousness because it was new for their taste buds.

They were ought to arrive at the abandoned house today. Side by side, Tybalt and Geralt silently rode on their horses. Both of them fed up at the opposite of every presence that galled them to the brim. The witcher blurting out his opinions very frankly at the scowling vampire who was acting like he wasn't there along the hunt.

"You should've just stayed in the castle and played with your army stocks," Geralt grumbled as he held onto Roach's reigns. Tybalt's advancements for what he has done to you never leaving his memories when he clearly remembered the causes about why he was hating him more than to drown in a monster's stinking guts.

"I should've stabbed yer' horse while we were travelling---or feed off to er' horse blood," Tybalt clapped back, sending the remark in the nonchalant way as possible with a sarcastic raise of his brows.

"Leave Roach out of this,"

"Gods, yer' such a strange one, Witcha'!"

The witcher's scowl was as nasty as an Alghoul's bum. Tybalt seemed to be thoroughly embittered for even tagging along with a cold heart that was grudging to even join his hunt. If it weren't for the queen's request, he would never even be within Geralt's area of personal space. Howbeit, people have been trying to frustrate him even more with their sudden decisions erupting from either sides, like a dormant volcano that no one expects to explode.

Grey undertoned house. Ramshackled from the roof till the decaying roots of stones stuck in between their spaces. Close enough to be dilapidated if a wolf would've tried blowing the house down---though, the three little pigs weren't inside for it to hunt. They were closing in towards their destination, Geralt was anticipating this point of their journey; to immediately seek for the witch and to come back sooner than expected.

Yet, his anticipation burned in disappointment by the familiar look of the house rooted in front of them.

He'd heard stories about this abandoned home in Bethleheigm through drunk men in the Inns. They were having a tete-a-tete that it was a boobey trap made by homeless pirates who hadn't gotten back to shore, concealing the home as a place for them to steal one's belongings until they were ripped off their coins. Some tattled that the house was a dragon's nest where a woman lived in and disguised as one that Geralt knew entirely as a bullshit rumor because no dragons would dare pick to stay in the middle of a forest where the house was the only home built through out the map.

The witcher jumped off his horse, hushing Roach down with a soft caress to her mane because she'd begun to neigh.

Tybalt couldn't help but cackle from how he was affectionately eyeing the horse as if she was his other half, "---I wouldn't be surprised if ye' bring yer' horse with ye' while you bed yer' little woman!" he outlaughed and had a hand on his clothed stomach, shaking his head from the witcher's strange gestures with everything.

"Hmm."

Geralt gave him the side eye, endlessly shooting daggers since the moment they bonded together. His comment receiving a lour from the brooding white wolf because of the baldy judgement said.

"Yer' grumpier than usual---like ye' have been in a fight with yer' current flame---is it the tiny lass, anotha' one of your sorceresses or princess?" the Upir quipped with a smirk, hopping off his own horse before giving the house a look. He seemed to waver with a clear of his throat.

Geralt disregarded his ridicule and question with a blessed silence, his mood turning sour from even mentioning you. The weccan's golden eyes scanned all over the tumbledown house, his amber narrowing as he examined what was expected to be a necromage's hideout that he has heard from one of the drunk men's gossips in the inns.

"This abandoned house," he gruffly started beneath his baritone, harsh breathing as Geralt huffed for his disappointment over the founded location. The bind he had with you turning heavier as days go by like he knew you were turning into a melancholic person due to his faults. Hence, it was keeping him more insane than he can ever be because he always seem to offer only mistakes towards his people---where they end up getting hurt because of him.

Which wasn't new in his life.

"---There is no hag in here. Only a Necromage I presume."

Tybalt walked several steps to stop beside Geralt, shrugging his fur-coated shoulders with a curl of his upper lip, "I told ye' to take the longer route. Right path, Witcha'."

"And I told that you are bringing us both in an early demise because Golems and Downers are bound to get in our way,"

The higher vampire kept his mouth shut after that, his foot tapping on the ground before he received a subtle warning of Geralt's glare. The witcher was right about it. Basically, Tybalt was trying to stall over their journey because he knew what exactly was the stratagem kept for a clandestine truth bound never to be known.

Geralt pushed his peculiar fidgets away as it was still sounding so loud with his heightened hearing. He narrowed his eyes upon the engraved words carved inside the four corners of a mettalic flattened surface stuck on the grimy, stoned walls.

"Thou who shall take a step, requires a fee for entrance and something valuable to heart in order to talk with death,"

He silently read the words inside his head. Considering the requests before slightly pursing his lips, the ends looking like a frown but was actually just irrespective of what he was currently thinking. The ramshackle home being surrounded by an invisible strong force field shielded for not any normal man could trespass in without the rules asked. Another form of magic that he knew---though, this wasn't just any simple sign. It was created by sorceresses or wizards to safeguard the whole home for decades end, not risking anyone to touch whoever was inside, like it was keeping something from entering the place.

Geralt gave Tybalt a look while the vampire continued to whistle along the winds, his arms crossed in front of his chest whilst checking his awfully long nails, intentionally ignoring his companion until the witcher tried to grab onto a rock, strongly throwing the stone towards his head until Tybalt used his abnormal abilities, instantly dodging the stone coming forth and sprinting beside Geralt in just a second to see him nodding his head for his crackerjack skills that he seldomly uses.

"Coins." the white haired weccan roughly stated before he heard Tybalt huff and grumble from his demands, giving his palm to him and expecting for a bag of coins to be placed on his hands.

"You have your own, Witcher."

Geralt cocked his head to the side with a feigned smile, shaking his head, "My coins will remain untouched. I'm not risking mine for favors asked."

"Fuck you and yer' coins. I hope you feckin' go slow and die as soon as you're done with us,"

In the end, Tybalt eventually had to fish out a bag of crowns inside his coat, begrudgingly dropping them off on the witcher's awaiting palm who has shrugged his broad shoulders for his easy submission. The words to the engraved poster switching to dust, swirling through the air, changing into an arrow pointing at a brick where Geralt had to slightly touch for it to be pushed back.

Thorny, earthy tone colored vines snaked their way out of the hole. The brick of the old house never being seen as the roots formed a symbol of two palms sticking together like it was asking for alms. Geralt placed the coins on the makeshift hand, slowly slithering its way back to its home.

The house was alive. He was sure of that when he felt the aegis slowly fading away. Its stone doors cracking to slide open for them to enter.

Tybalt hasn't moved a step from his side. He returned to crossing his fairly muscled arms, hearing hasty pads of footsteps shuffling from behind as Geralt halfly turned to see a Hirrika panting on his side, yelping as a way of his bark towards the witcher who had his eyebrows furrowed in curiosity and stupefaction; stunned to see the familiar beast who has impressively found him despite of his long travel.

"Kolby."

"Your whore's feral pet," The Upir deadpanned, chuckling nasally like a sarcasm.

Tybalt heard a low growl coming the monster, his fangs shown to the vampire who he could sense and remember, his scent awfully making him remember how he'd hurt his master.

"Watch it." Geralt gruffly mumbled, giving Tybalt the side-eye as he tried monotonely hushing the rare beast like how he'd seen you soothe his annoyance or anger whenever Jaskier irritates Kolby.

"Down, Kolby. No teeth." he gruffly scolded with a raise of his palm.

The Hirikka chattered like a cat as he glared at Geralt's temporary companion, spinning on his own place before howling, his snout tilted at the sky as he yowled, the sound making him wince from how loud it was---too sensitive for his heightened hearing. Though, that didn't stop him from judging his gestures, noticing how he was jumping in his own spot whilst doe eyes stared back.

"He's saying something," the white wolf frankly stated, exhaling a languid breath through his nose because he couldn't understand what he wanted, "---Stay here and don't touch Roach or my Hirikka." he mentioned for Tybalt who appeared to be mentally finding their whole interaction as comedic. Geralt took a step forth, subtly leaving a pat on Kolby's head that eventually calmed him down, making him skip his paws to the side.

The Hirikka jumped to sit on his short tail, his knees bent and close to his chest as he silently watched Tybalt and Geralt conversing together with snarls and insensitive jests until the witcher finally moved away from him, bravefully entering the threshold.

"Where ye' going?" Tybalt called out and made him cease his steps, promptly giving the growling Hirikka his heed to see Geralt judging with his slightly entertained peepers, fighting off the curl of his lips because of how his Hirikka was making the higher vampire uneasy. He was agile but lacked knowledge over the beastiality of the continent. Probably, because of how he has been confined in the castle in an early age and known more politics and schemes more than the lore of monsters.

"To ask the Necromage about that witch,"

"Just like that?"

"She might know her whereabouts. Stay here if you don't want to get your vampire nails grimy,"

Tybalt cocked his head to the side, effusive of cursing out the witcher who had a smirk as he turned his back away from him, continuing his path around and ignoring his cavils.

"Why am I even following ye' around, Mutant?"

Geralt of Rivia entered the perimeters. His newly sharpened swords latched on his wide, broad back. Every step had his chest heavier than usual; bred-in-the-bone like he knew there was something happening to you back in the castle that he couldn't decipher and it made him scowl. The energy in the house even adding more of that deep-seated feeling---the home being cursed as well like some sort of magic was ceasing his advancements from talking to this person living inside.

The place wasn't ruined after all. It was all charmed and just a mere visionary trap or distraction that won't let people fall for even staying close to whoever was inside. Clean and utterly fixed, furnitures sat on their proper rooms which held up a second floor that Geralt didn't plan on exploring for as a presence could be felt while he stood in the middle of the kitchen.

"Hmm. Necromage,"

This person was a woman, Geralt silently stated the obvious inside his head. Her voice was tremulous and surprised to see a gigantuan man standing in the middle of her kitchen which she has never seen before in all her life.

"I am no Necromage," Rohesia calmly informed him, her heed turning distant from the mention, "She...has already died. Cristabell, My lady of the rarest in Bethleheigm---the only necromancer in this kingdom. May her soul rest in peace,"

"---You're the witcher." she paused, taking a gander and examining the white wolf before her. White hair falling on the tips of his shoulder blades. Gold eyes. A scowl prominent on his face. This was the witcher she has been warned about from both parties.

Geralt attempted a cynical smile, seeing that she held more lies and have been doing so for a lifetime, "There's no use of lying."

She was feeble. As old as Eanraig in terms of physical appearance but not his actual age since he was a scholar of the forest. The witcher held onto his medallion, seeming to feel no vibrations over his necklace that he strongly felt before the doors have been opened. His white and black spotted eyebrows furrowed for what singularity was happening.

This was supposed to be the Necromage. Yet, why does she felt human who had no magic to offer?

The hoary, old woman was not lying after all.

Rohesia forced to give him a small smile, walking past him to sit on one of the wooden, dining chairs. Gesturing her palm outwards for Geralt to take a seat that he simply answered with silence as he stood rooted on his spot, assessing what she truly was.

"I offer you no lies of secrecy. My mouth speaks nothing but the truth for I am just a mortal who thrives to live peacefully in the continent," she honestly answered his curiosity and judgements which made him nod at her uprightness---making his job easier for him.

The woman really was no necromage at all.

"A mortal who stands for her virtues. Hmm."

"Why are you here, Witcher?"

His glower was permanent even as he sauntered to where she was, standing upright and leaning a hand on the top portion of her dining chairs whilst he patiently explained.

"To find the hag who has cursed prince Althalos of Kaedwen."

Rohesia only offered a small, genuine smile. Her shaky laugh erupting through her chest because she knew this was the man who her former witcher and lover give fair warning to when the Kaedweni started their murdering plots upon fellow weccans who fall for their crimes. Vesemir never wanted to be involved with their delinquencies, explains his periodic leave in the kingdom---his constant visits for the woman seldomly occurring since Nilfgaard has attacked and conquered another domain after Cintra.

"Are you doing this because Vesemir has told you so?"

Geralt went on with his speechless talk, low humming followed suit for the flabbergast he felt over hearing his senior mentor in the art of their kind. The end of his lips subtly turning the opposite of a lour, relieved to suddenly hear his name through another person's mouth---a woman he probably had a relationship with; a former flame and mortal that Geralt least expect for Vesemir to entertain because of the conducts he had told him prior into becoming one skilled witcher.

It is that being involved with mortals and even having a soft spot in the job won't make them any better.

"Does he visit often?"

She ignored his question with a simple, wholehearted feeble laugh. Her circumvent obvious that Rohesia wanted not to talk about Vesemir after he has chosen to leave her for coins and another woman---another mortal years ago, thinking that because she aged badly was one of the reasons why he chose something better than to be with her. Hence, they were even known to be monsters of their own kind. Monsters who slay other beasts in exchange for coins. It was what she believed them to be---yet, she knew to herself that if Vesemir would come back to her, she would still accept him with all her mortal heart.

She dryly coughed, avoiding his eyes and covering her mouth with a tightened fist that Geralt quickly knew she was physically sick just by the looks of it.

"If you...still want to live and take your coin, turn back around and forget that you have stumbled upon this place forever."

The latter shook his head. Determined to find answers from this elderly human who knew his mentor and a fatherly figure he had been to his life. He believed Rohesia knew more than just Vesemir based on how she was trying to push him away.

"Where's the hag?"

"You cannot find the witch anywhere even out in Kaedwen, Geralt."

He was impressed. Geralt raised both of his eyebrows, pursing his lips with a tilt of his head that she knew his name regardless of not introducing himself yet.

"Vesemir has obviously told you more about me,"

She ignored his statement again, grabbing onto the ends of her dirty Tunic as she stood, saying her words firmly and with finality. Never knowing if her decision over dropping out hints would be good for her isolation from everyone---isolation and somehow imprisoned inside a house. The necromage being her sentinel, a guard given orders that she wouldn't escape and try to spill secrets that will ruin such plans. Howbeit, she still had high respects for Cristabell who had been too kind for her that she has brought Rohesia with her whenever she was out for some business.

"The witch you have been finding has been around the castle for decades."

Perhaps, it was time for the truth to set out free because Rohesia knew she had only weeks to live in the continent. Revenge pushing her through the decision she wanted for trying to keep her contained, watching her every move; ruining more of her wrecked life.

"I have been the queen's loyal servant. After she has given birth to Prince Althalos, he has already been cursed when he was a bairn." Pause. "---Sorceress Ingrith has managed to sneak into their quarters and cast the curse by whispering such spell and gaining a tiny drop of his blood. I've all seen her cantrips and heard them as I came back to guard the prince in his sleep. The wail of an offspring shall bring despair for the royal family,"

The sorceress' name felt like a crime to be told. Heaviness in her chest finally unleashing after decades of being caught up with the lies she was telling people who asked or went to gather information as to who has cursed the prince; finding the witch and ending up dying from the hands of her womanly guard. Cristabell recently died from the hands of the last witcher who she knew as Gerd, the necromage dying after their battle whilst she tried to fight for her cousin's trangression---continuing doing so for the sake of her selfish reasons.

"---She...she was also the king's mistress before the queen has given birth to Prince Althalos while she also gained her position. I may never know if it was made from jealousy over the queen's position. Though, it is their life that I promised to stay away from. Only sorceress Ingrith may reverse the curse or happen to know how,"

A beat of silence wrapped them both after Rohesia's candor. Geralt's mouth forming a deeper scowl than ever as he loudly sighed, languidly blinking in weary for being tricked by the sorceress and her right hand, Tybalt of Touissant. His jaw began to clench for who stood outside of the house, the higher vampire making him mad for leading him on circles---the cycle wouldn't have ended if he chose to go forth with his suggested path. It was why he was trying to lead him towards a swamp filled with monsters than the shorter route because the truth was with this rumored woman.

"Should've known."

He deeply grumbled begrudgingly, blaming himself for not thinking it through. His time wasted for you to be saved and taken out of the palace. If only he wasn't as pale as Ivory, his face would've been empurpled with fury for what they've made him appear to be---an idiot or for whatever bullshit they can call him.

"You're coming with me..." Geralt deeply said before he was cut off to her introduction of name.

"The name's Rohesia, Witcher."

He nodded back to the lady, going on with his ceased sentence with solicit, "---Back to the castle,"

Rohesia saw him walk closer to her, face to face with the infamous butcher she has heard tales about. The butcher of Blaviken who has managed to slaughter goons of Princess Renfri's hooligans and also earning another moniker of being a butcher of Ard Carraigh. Kaedwen's capital. The name would eventually spread throughout his kind because of how Kaer Morhen was close by. Her eyes catching onto the badge latched on the rain-guard of his sword.

"I have been told to never step foot again or I shall be put into death,"

"Do I need to beg for your compliance and offer protection?"

"What's in it for you and me?"

The witcher deeply sighed, shifting his amber away from her as Geralt looked withdrawn, his next words sounding like a mumble, dubious of his own bluntness. Disbelieving that he could hear his own voice say the words like an echo of his consciousness.

"You get to save the castle from anguish," pause. "---and you get to save the life of someone dear to me,"

"A woman I assume---your woman," Rohesia sounded so surprised, staring him down in incredulity, "---Is she royal? another sorceress too? a mutant?"

"A mere...mortal," he hesitated to honestly say, his eyes filled with a memory he truly can't forget. Your skeptical voice stuck inside his head when he remembered the first time he met you till the moment you told him how you suited to be a queen.

Geralt clearly remembered his reaction and teasing reply. Telling you how you suited more to be called a midget. His midget. Yet, now you were being treated like his queen where he would kiss the ground you walk on no matter how in denial he gets.

"---Perhaps...a queen to her kingdom in her rightful dimension," he was caught in his train of thoughts, never seeing the stupefaction in Rohesia's eyes over what dimension he meant---having no clue for his words. She could see what Vesemir once was like until life has ruined everything for her, including the sorceress corrupting and controlling the people and castle of Kaedwen.

"Learning to love doesn't suit your kind, Witcher."

"It's because it isn't what you think it is."

Rohesia shook her head for his lies, he was thoroughly unaware of the feelings sipping through his words once he mentioned you. This witcher believed that he wasn't capable to love nor emit feelings just like how her previous lover have been. A typical characteristic of his own kind. Denial and the feeling of being unworthy of recognizing such emotion was making him sound insensitive. But, people who could read others can see through him regardless of how he tries not to, "Deny it all you want. To us humans, it is. Love as many people assume."

"---you're still human after all. As far as I believe for your kind, Geralt of Rivia. Sorceress Ingrith might be glad to see me again soon---I hope."

Don’t hesitate to message me if you don’t want to be included in the taglist anymore, bb’s. I won’t be mad. Thank you.

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kiruuuuu · 4 years ago

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Doc/Lion oneshot in which Lion suffers from the consequences of being tortured. (Rating M, hella angst + some comfort, ~3.3k words) - written for @renegad3spectre! Thank you a ton for commissioning me, I really really enjoyed this prompt, just took it and ran with it. It was a pleasure, all the love to you 🧡🧡🧡

Horrifically, it’s his grandfather delivering the blows.

He’s got fond memories of him, of sweets smuggled into his pocket, repeated stories ever-changing from one retelling to the next, quiet banter loud enough for him to hear but muffled enough that he suppressed his own laughter. He smelled of books and wood and old people, and that must’ve been it – the building had held a heavy, stale air which probably triggered the association, unwanted as it is.

So now the creature in his head, the remnant, the ghost haunting his mind wears his grandpa’s face like it owned it, like it had absolutely any right. It hurts more this way. It hurts to be called a disgrace, worthless, useless. It hurts to be disowned, it hurts to hear I have no grandson and it hurts to be accused of killing them, you killed them, your hand held the scalpel and this particular voice coming from his grandfather’s mouth is even more disturbing.

Who do you work for, he yells, unforgiving, merciless, and now his features shift, skin discolouring and eyes sinking into their holes to make way for nothing but darkness, and soon it’s the familiar sight of a brutal, faceless monster, concealed by a mask, surrounded by others looking exactly like him, supported by clones. Where are they, they scream at him in unison, who else. And he wants to answer, wants so desperately to reply to make it stop, is willing to give up anything, everything, if only it means this unbearable noise in his head quiets down. But his thoughts are made of tar, spread slowly and directionless, impossible to wade through. Words elude him, fade like smoke whenever he attempts to grasp them, endeavours to put this horrendous suffering into a single sentence.

Not like any expression he knows would be sufficient to describe this torture.

He doesn’t know what’s real. At times, he’s losing himself in a loud beat and a steaming crowd, coloured lights sweeping overhead and music seeping into his bones, and he knows he needs to reunite with his friends to keep partying, keep the night alive. It’s convincing enough he can taste the cheap drinks in his throat and feels naked, sweaty arms brush over his own on the dance floor – and the next second a blinding light pierces his skull and there are too many people around him he doesn’t know. They sound alarmed, eyes wide, and it sparks an instant, shrieking panic: something is wrong and he has no idea what it is. The strangers refuse to let him go, hold him down, and he tries to explain while the sterile stench they exude causes his stomach to churn and turn.

Most of the time, his ears are filled with accusations. The source is constantly evolving but what stays is the nauseating sense of dread. His heart races against the rest of his bodily functions and easily wins every time since his senses are sluggish, his perception unreliable and his thoughts wrapped in cotton. Grimaces of fury are persistent companions, and though he can’t put a name to all of them, their familiarity cuts deep. His mother, his former friends, his father, his sister. Alexis. Claire. The guy he met in Marseille who pretended to be his friend. Doc. Thatcher. An abomination from that cursed city Lion tries so hard to forget. Doc. The masked entity, omniscient, omnipotent, terrifying. Alexis. Doc.

He understands.

Why people would betray their loved ones, their country, their morals – he understands now, and the realisation is as chilling as the experience. He begged to be able to tell them. Begged for his life, begged for his life to be taken. Begged for peace as opposed to the chaos inside him, and he knows now most people have no idea what chaos really means. They humanise it, award it positive or negative qualities yet Lion would tell them it’s neither malevolent nor merciful. It just is. Against it, he is nothing, smaller than a speck of dust, utterly inconsequential and unimportant: in the face of true chaos, he’s meaningless. All he can do is hope he survives it.

The room is empty, his eyes tell him, and his ears tell him the same, but his brain is convinced of someone’s presence, just out of sight. Pitiful noises fill the barren, bleak chamber and they come from him, but at least they summon another human. A human with Doc’s face, and then with a mask, and then it’s Doc’s face again. Lion buries his fingernails so deep into his arm he tastes copper on his lips and pleads for him to stay. He sounds like a broken record, this voice isn’t his, the syllables barely intelligible among the dry heaving and the sobs. Music starts playing, a loud riff reminiscent of his teenager years, signifying rebellion and freedom and the worst fucking period of his entire life, and Doc says your hand held the scalpel and he’s gone again.

More, he implored as if anything he said would sway them, yes, please. And he looked at the needle and hated it, despised himself for craving it like this, abhorred the ones who turned him into this, and simultaneously he needed. He needed it so much. Without it, he was broken.

His throat is hoarse from screaming, so the visions morphed from atrocious to tragic until he had no more tears left to cry, and then they went for the very core of him. And this, too, he understands now: why anyone would go above God and decide existence isn’t worth it anymore. If he’s being tested, he’ll gladly fail as long as it means silence. If he’s being punished, he’s ready to receive eternal punishment for it can’t be any worse than this.

Someone is calling his name. The man – the men – knew it because he told them, it was one of the many things he told them, so he fights tooth and nail to continue drifting in this vegetative state, but it grows ever more insistent and strips away the layers of mud obstructing his consciousness, leaving him no choice. He can’t remember what it’s like, to have a choice, to choose.

Long words are being thrown at him. He deciphers none and yet an image forms below his eyelids, less blurry with every new description. The professional tone of voice pushes him gently back to his days of studying, a time filled with diligence and the hope to make a difference, and his despairing brain latches on to the information like a drowning man to a piece of driftwood.

Delirium, the familiar voice lists, agitation, seizures, anxiety, hallucinations. Too many syllables to fully absorb, and still he deconstructs them halfway. The mask wouldn’t know them. And if it did, it wouldn’t use them around him.

He’s safe.

He must be, it’s the only valid conclusion, but why does his existence still hurt this much? Why is the world shaking, why is he slowly drifting away from everything he ever held dear, from his life, this earth, himself?

They have Alexis. The realisation jolts through him like an electric shock. He needs to rescue him somehow, together with the people by his side, yet he can’t shoot at the maniacally cackling crowd running away from him because he’s not sure which one of them has him, and he can’t risk hitting his own son. Risk harming his most important footprint on this world. The masked grimace tells him he’ll be too late, and besides, it was his own fault anyway: Lion willingly told them about Alexis’ whereabouts in exchange for his next fix.

And he did do that. He did that. These are the consequences of his own actions, his punishment for complying with minimal resistance instead of staying strong, remembering his training. He sacrificed his son for something this trivial. Offered him up in exchange for complacency. Put himself first.

People are screaming, Claire, his colleagues, his family, and he knows he must interfere if his life is meant to be worth anything anymore, and there’s a small voice inside his head, an old companion. Full of vitriol, pulling at threads to make him come undone, scratching at scabs to cause scars, widening holes so he’s incomplete. It suggests a scenario and with petrifying speed, he’s there to live it.

He has a choice. On the one side is his son, gagged, tears in his eyes, struggling against his restraints. On the other side is –

There’s a –

It’s a syringe.

“-s alright. You’re alright. Take a breath, Flament. You’re safe, you have nothing to worry about. Do you need to throw up?”

Paying no attention to the words, Lion is flailing, sitting up abruptly and touching his legs to check whether they’re still there, touches his face and feels blind panic flare up the moment he spots the object in the crook of his arm. He’s narrowly stopped from ripping it out by an iron grip against which he struggles wildly, demanding to be let go, knocking something over and shattering it.

The vice-like grip never once wavers, and gradually his surroundings begin to sink in. He’s in a hospital, it seems, and the person by his side is none other than Doc, trusty (your hand held the scalpel) Doc who’d never let a patient suffer more than absolutely necessary. Bleeding heart Doc. Doc with his stoic face which barely contains the rage undoubtedly roaring in his chest (and is it directed at Lion?).

From one second to the next, Lion deflates and sinks back into the pillows, thoroughly fatigued. His adrenaline wears off quickly and makes way for uncomfortable nausea and the sensation of itching limbs. He needs to move, needs to shake off this horrible feeling of having slept a decade, but he doesn’t trust his body. The hand finally lets go of his wrist and leaves behind a print even lighter than Lion’s skin already is.

“Alexis is safe, too”, Doc assures him.

Lion jumps at this. How does he know? His throat closes and opens, produces a dry rasp and forces him to cough. Next to him, Doc is waiting patiently. “Where is he?”, Lion eventually gets out.

“At home. He never left.” He sounds composed despite the storm clouds visible in his expression, so Lion isn’t the intended recipient of his cold fury. “You kept calling for him, so I figured you must be worried. But there’s no need for concern.”

“What happened?”

Doc pauses for a few seconds. “We apprehended the ones responsible. Fortunately, we intercepted their outgoing messages, so what little information you gave them never reached anyone else.”

If this was true, Lion could exonerate himself. He also takes note of how Doc is silent about the before. He must guess Lion remembers being captured, remembers what they did to him. Bruises on his body are evidence for some of it, and the hellish trip tells the rest of the story. “How much did I say?”

“Doesn’t matter. We caught it.”

“How much?”

“You shouldn’t worry about -”

“Gustave!”, Lion roars, desperate to be either condemned or redeemed. He needs to know, must know so he can better assess his own mental strength. So he knows what to confess. So he can pray for forgiveness.

Doc’s lips are a thin line. “I don’t know. Grace and Mark had an agreement with Harry not to disclose any details. He says it’s standard procedure to prevent potential animosity.”

Not good enough. He’ll never be able to look Alexis in the eyes again if it turns out he did mention him. How much of his memories are real, how much were part of his nightmares? “What about my son?”, he whispers and Doc just shakes his head.

“As I said: I don’t know. Try to get some rest, Flament.”

Just as he exits the room, Lion spots the deep scratches on Doc’s forearm. Please stay, just please, he yells at Doc in his head, unable to bend his lips around the words. Don’t leave me alone. Don’t leave me.

He starts crying again.

So weak is he that the tears won’t stop, can’t stop, a broken silhouette in the shape of a man. Fragmented, just like his thoughts. He can’t remember ever feeling this terrible, hasn’t felt this frail and fragile in forever. His body doesn’t feel like home.

No time that night is spent sleeping. Restless, he crawls out of bed, explores the room that isn’t his while dragging his IV stand along, lets his eyes wander over pages not belonging to him, books left on his nightstand on accident probably, and doesn’t absorb a single word.

Once his thoughts are his own again, he utilises them with newfound fervour. He requests his phone and types until his thumbs hurt, types and deletes, corrects, amends, reinvents.

This is a theme in his life, an endlessly repeating circle: arrogance begets punishment. A boastful adolescent loses his innocence by nearly terminating an unborn life, by indulging vices too great for him to understand. A reformed young man deeming himself competent is burdened with death and riddled with blame (your hand held the scalpel).

A man, feeling invincible, having repaired bridges, full of empathy, is beaten bloody and broken.

He hasn’t updated his will in years – a symptom of a much more dangerous cause. Rainbow instilled a delusion of grandeur in him, promised him a future, coloured his life vibrantly and provided a new motto. Not me. He won’t be killed in the line of duty, not with these people by his side. He’ll be fine. Whatever happens, he’ll be fine.

This was a close call. Targeted and much more efficient than Six anticipated, or else Lion never would’ve been captured in the first place. If this is a sign, it couldn’t be any clearer: he’s not only not invincible, he’s delicate. This was just one weakness they could’ve exploited, Alexis obviously being another, his family as well. He won’t be as cocky when embarking on a mission from now on, and he’ll try to convey to the others how easy it is not to return.

It’s an earth-shattering wakeup call.

And so he types until the letters blur before his eyes, and says things which needed saying years ago. And he vows that this change in perspective will be a permanent one – he’ll never open himself up like this anymore. He’ll stay alert. He’ll fend off complacency.

And then Montagne is by his side and says a thing too chilling to be true. He’s gone, it drips from his lips like poison, and Lion knows with absolute certainty that it’s the truth. Doc accompanied him on the mission, Lion failed him, only he was saved. Endless protest is shushed by a sad shake of the head, a head with a face so ashen Lion can tell he’s not the only one filled with sorrow at the news.

There’s so much left unsaid between them, so much admiration and respect bottled up in order to show no weakness, and now he knows it’s useless to suppress emotion due to pride. Neither of them had managed to move on and now that Lion was willing to offer introspection and the admittance of possible mistakes in the shape of good intentions and the only course of action he saw, Doc would never be able to accept any of it.

Doc would never tell him he did a good job again. He’d never show him this grim smile again, the one he wore whenever he was satisfied with Lion’s work despite the outcome, laced with pride almost – or maybe this is wishful thinking, because after all they’ve lived through, a part of Lion still craves his approval so desperately that every positive word makes him glow from the inside, only he’s gone now, and Lion will never tell him –

“Olivier.”

Drenched in sweat, a pounding headache and with trembling limbs, he wakes up. Still in the hospital, still with Doc by his side. Of course: his demons have been depriving him of all things positive in his life, so why not him too? Nightmares know no bounds and refuse to accept Doc is sacred.

The other man is flushed slightly, dressed immaculately as always, but most importantly: alive. His gaze is turned downward to where Lion is gripping his wrist so tightly his knuckles are white. “I’m here”, Doc says gently. “You can let go. I’m here.”

Lion considers complying, though when it registers that Doc called him by first name, all he does is loosen his grip. “I dreamt you died”, he admits, staring up at the irregular patterns on the ceiling. He couldn’t ever convey this emotionless void Doc’s death caused in him, the utter emptiness – somehow, it was as if he’d lost his life’s goal. Which is insane, because his aim is to better the world. Not win Doc over.

“I could tell”, says Doc.

He must’ve been distraught, calling out in his sleep, reaching for his colleague. A question occurs to him which he should’ve asked sooner: “Is everyone else alright?”

“Yes.” Hesitation. “Ying has a black eye. When we came, they were currently depriving you.”

Lion figured as much. “I need to apologise to her.”

“You weren’t yourself.” Doc’s eyes meet his. “That wasn’t you.”

His relief must be palpable. Hearing it from Doc’s mouth doesn’t make it true, but it drowns out that malicious voice which never fucking shuts up. Giving up their secrets, thirsting for a meritless high, attacking blindly – even himself: he’s more than that, and knowing Doc is fully aware of this causes him to fight back tears of gratitude. “No. It wasn’t.”

After a moment of silence, Doc’s arm twists around and offers his hand, which Lion immediately accepts. For now, there’s no second-guessing motives, no long deliberation as to whether Doc is helping a co-worker, a friend, someone more than that, whether he’s volunteering support or understanding or something else entirely. All he knows is: the hand is warm, so warm it spreads a soft calmness all throughout him.

“I brought you music.” Doc indicates an old iPod on the bedside table next to the stack of books (which has grown), a vase with flowers and a few cards. Lion either failed to notice them before or they’re a recent addition. “Dominic helped with the selection.”

This is good news. Lion hopes for unfamiliar bands – he’s not sure what kind of reaction the ones from his youth might trigger in this state.

“And I spoke with Harry.” The segue is too casual. Lion has become proficient at reading between the lines with Doc, and he translates it as I gave him a stern talking to. “He said to tell you the information you gave was deemed ‘insignificant’.”

The wording doesn’t escape him: there’s no certainty in what -

“And you didn’t even mention Alexis.”

Lion takes a deep breath.

Between the constant pressure against his temples, the rolling stomach and nauseating dizziness, he’s felt better, but trusting Doc’s words to be true settles something inside him. Doc wouldn’t lie about this. “Thank you”, Lion replies and hopes his earnest gratitude is audible.

There’s so much to say between them his thoughts are going haywire considering just a fraction of it. All their arguments are ultimately the same as Lion’s treason: insignificant in the grand scheme of things. Something invisible connects them and it should be time to drag it to the surface, but not now. Not when he’s barely begun to heal from his outside and inside wounds.

Instead, he asks: “Will you stay a little longer?”

This time, Doc nods and remains where he is, a bastion of calm. And when Lion squeezes his hand, Doc returns the gesture and it’s all he needs for the moment.

It’s enough.

#rainbow six siege #doc #lion #doc/lion #fanfic #oneshot #commissions #my internet search history is very suspicious now #they're tired of dancing after this #there's more important things than beating around the bush

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diavohno · 5 years ago

Note

Could you please do a story with 7., 37., and 43., with Satan please? Thank you so much!

this was such a great combo of dialogue lines omg THANK YOU!!! anyway, here’s the 2.6k that it inspired 😂

warnings: angsty (assumptions make an A-S-S out of U M-E), minor hair pulling, hickies (MC’s got one bruised next yikes), and implied smexy stuffs ;)

“wait a minute . . . are you jealous?”, “I can’t keep kissing other people and pretending they’re you”, and “I can do whatever you want, babe” + Satan

x + x +

Satan wasn’t supposed to have seen you and the other demon in the club, your back pressed against the wall and your leg hiked around his waist as his warm hands roamed free across your body. He wasn’t supposed to hear the light gasps that were teased out of you by hungry nips that left a trail of marks around your neck and bare shoulders. He wasn’t even supposed to be at The Fall, but there he was anyway, his distinctive aura of contained wrath screaming out his presence to everyone in the vicinity.

Your heart all but stopped when you finally noticed him. How long had he been here? How much had he seen? A chill quickly spread throughout your body as Satan turned around and just walked away, his face hauntingly neutral.

A displeased grunt from the demon suckling on your neck snapped you back to reality, and the booming bass and chatter from the crowd came crashing back into your awareness. While you had felt comfortable here moments before, the atmosphere now felt stifling and overbearing.

“I’m sorry, I’ve made a mistake.” Your body moved on auto-pilot, pushing the demon off of you and stumbling after the blonde without a single thought. No, the only thought running through your mind was that you had to make it up to Satan. You needed to. Even as you were jostled to and fro by the club crowd, carelessly flung elbows bludgeoning your helpless form, no other thought came to mind.

It took much too long to make it to the doorway, and you cursed yourself when you found Satan to be nowhere in sight. Of course he hadn’t stuck around--why would he? If the situation had been reversed…

Imagining it felt like a weight pressing down on your chest, threatening to press all of the air out of your lungs. The thought of some random demon pressing herself against his lean frame, her nails suggestively trailing lower and lower down his abdomen, whispering false promises and adorations into his ear, and knowing that it wasn’t you doing those things to him felt absolutely crushing.

But for you, it was different, because you love Satan.

And you certainly don’t feel that way about people you don’t love.

You were undoubtedly sure that he was returning home; it’s not often that he’s anywhere else this late anyway, so it only made sense that that’s where he would go. Also, you had come to learn that whenever he needed time to control his emotions, he would read--what better place was there to go than to his own room?

As you began your trek home, taking time to ensure you didn’t twist an ankle in your heels, angry tears started to prick your eyes. You had been selfish going to the club tonight, and you had been selfish to numb yourself with a stranger. More tears threatened to spill down your cheeks, and you let them. Without a doubt, you knew your makeup was thoroughly ruined and streaked, leaving markings to show your mistakes for the world to see.

Pebbles wormed their way between your foot and shoe, and multiple times you had to quickly catch yourself because you had misstepped and lost your balance. Maybe you should’ve left yourself fall--after what you had done tonight, you deserved it. Hell, you deserved so much worse than that.

That thought brought you to a stop. Did you really, though? Why were you so upset about having been found out? It wasn’t as if Satan cared, seeing as how he never made comments about how Asmo hits up the town on almost an every night basis. Maybe he was a little disappointed, and maybe he had expected better from you, but a little disappointment wasn’t anywhere near worth dragging yourself over hot coals for. You had gone to the Fall for yourself, after all.

The inner reassurance encourages you enough to resume the hike back to the House of Lamentation, all the while still thoroughly engulfed by your thoughts.

It had started with you tagging along with Asmo as a way of erasing the fourth born from your mind for a little while--you’d indulge in someone else, pretending that it was Satan’s lips moving with yours instead of the reality of the situation. It had never completely worked, but the distraction was nice, so you started to make more regular visits. Asmo was thrilled to finally have someone that he actually enjoyed spending time with tag along (Mammon took great offense to that statement and promptly declared that he had better things to spend his time doing anyway.) Eventually, you felt comfortable enough to fly solo, like what you had been doing before everything came crashing down.

For a while, it worked great! Whenever you got too down about your unreciprocated feelings for Satan, you’d hit up the Fall and find someone to distract you for a little while. You never slept with anyone, although there were days where you were tempted. Tempted to not return to the same place you knew he’d be. Tempted to see just what kind of reaction he’d give when he realized where you had been, and why. Tempted to hurt as much as you’ve been hurting every. Single. Day.

But you could never bring yourself to chase those temptations.

The same image of betrayal that gave you a fleeting burst of satisfaction also ultimately left you feeling hollow. The idea that maybe, just maybe, he’d be hurt by any action of yours filled you with dread. You knew, deep down, that you’d never be able to do that to him.

Then he saw you at the Fall and gave you that terrifyingly calm look, and you knew you messed up bad. Whatever had run through his mind when he saw you was a mystery, but even still you knew that you had messed up in the worst possible way.

At some point, you had reached the House of Lamentation. Other than your first day in the Devildom, before you had become accustomed to everything, you’d never really taken notice of it. Now, it’s towering size and dark exterior somehow stand out amongst the dark background like it’s a monument to your mistakes.

Shaking the feeling off, you slowly crept in through the door. Undoubtedly, Lucifer already knew you were out of the house, but the last thing you wanted right now was to sit through another one of his lectures. They tend to be much more pointed late at night, although they get done no sooner than the others, and your ego was rather fragile at the moment. So long as you could prolong the inevitable just for a few hours, you’d be grateful.

After slipping off your heels to minimize noise, you began tip-toeing up the stairs in the entrance hall towards Satan’s room. A gnawing anxiousness made itself ever more present in your stomach the closer you got to your destination, but you pushed it aside and pressed onward anyway. It was about time that you finally came clean, not only to him, but to yourself, too. Fighting the urge to walk away while you still could, you instead tapped your knuckles lightly against the door twice. Every second that went unanswered weighed you down, but you soon heard a low ‘come in.’

“It’s me,” you announced quietly as you stepped into his room. As per usual, you had to awkwardly guide your way around stacks of books, but by now you’ve become fairly skilled at it. Still, doing so meant looking down to make sure you weren’t about to bulldoze through some books, and looking down meant you weren’t looking at Satan. He remained silent the entire time it took you to find where you wanted to stand, and even when you looked up at him after, he didn’t say a word. Clearing your throat awkwardly, you jumped straight to the point. “You saw me at the Fall tonight.”

“I did,” he responded cooly, closing the book resting on his lap but keeping the page with a finger. “You certainly seemed to be enjoying yourself.”

The hidden venom in his words caught you off-guard. If you were anyone else, you would’ve thought you were simply being scolded, but you had come to know better. You noticed the hardness behind his beautiful emerald eyes and the slight clench of his jaw. Of course you had known he was upset, but you never would have imagined that he’d be this upset about seeing you at a club--unless that wasn’t what he was upset about.

“Wait a minute,” you hesitated for a moment, unsure if your hunch was right. Well, you’re not going to find out if you don’t ask, right? And you had come here with the intention to put all of your cards on the table, so it didn’t make sense to hold back. “Are you jealous?”

Bingo.

Although Satan’s eyes never broke contact with yours, it was easy to see how his grip on his book tightened and his jaw fully clenched in anger. The understanding of just what that meant lifted all of your stress off of your back, and with that relief came an incessant yearning to hold him so you could erase everything that had happened so far tonight.

“And if I was? Would it make any difference?” he spat, unsuccessfully masking the bite in his tone. You involuntarily swallowed as he pushed himself to his feet, book long forgotten as it tumbled from his hold onto the floor. In just a few steps he managed to get close enough to lock his hands firmly onto your hips, and in just a few more he has you pushed up against a bookshelf. Your breath caught in your throat at the sheer intensity of his gaze and how you could physically see him unravel by the second, mind reeling at his close proximity.

His attention shifted from your face to your neck, and you could tell by the narrowing of his eyes that he’s taking in the myriad of hickies decorating your skin there. One of his hands left its place on your hip and moved upward to lightly press against one of your markings. With them being as new as they are, the pressure sparked a small amount of pain, causing you to suck in a quick breath through your teeth.

“Would being jealous make these go away?” he whispered, his warm breath fanning across your face. Without pausing to wait for an answer, his hand dragged further upward still until his thumb was able to run along your bottom lip while the other slipped behind you to press your body flush against his. It didn’t escape your notice how perfectly his body slotted against your own. “Would it change the fact that his lips were on yours?”

Just before you could grab his face to pull it just inches closer to meet your own, Satan caught one of your wrists in his hand. “Why did you come back, MC?”

The hand that was still free gently cupped his cheek; a curl of satisfaction twisted inside your chest as he subtly leaned into your touch. Your answer slipped out with almost no thought at all. “Because I can’t keep kissing strangers and pretending they’re you.”

With those words, something inside Satan snapped, and next thing you know his hot lips are fervently moving against yours. The unbridled passion fueling the kiss caught you off-guard for a moment, but soon you were returning just as much as you were receiving.

He quickly dropped your hand so he could place his at the nape of your neck, tilting your head to give him better access to your mouth. With your heart racing but your train of thought completely derailed at the moment, you moved on pure instinct; both of your hands carded through his golden locks for a bit before grabbing some strands in each, the light tugs earning you some deep groans for your efforts. The sound sent a jolt straight to your core, and without thinking (which is something you’ve been failing to do a lot lately) you hooked one of your legs around his waist to draw him impossibly closer.

Never one to lose the upperhand of a situation, the hand on the small of your back shifted lower until it rested on your ass, where his fingers almost immediately dug in for purchase. As your mouth opened to gasp, his tongue darted in. The slick muscle immediately met your own, and the two wrestled for control until you finally relented; however, the battle must’ve taken longer than you realized, and you soon felt a burn in your lungs urging you to breathe.

As you parted, a thick strand of saliva stretched between the two of you. As gross as it was, there was also some part of you that found it oddly hot, like it served as a reminder of the bond the both of you were currently sharing. Your eyes took in the state Satan was in before you, and if you weren’t already flushed then you certainly were now.

Despite his emerald eyes being half-lidded, it was plain to see the heated desire burning behind them, and his cheeks were painted a pinkish hue, much like how you imagined yours to be. He heaved in a few heavy breaths before his mouth sought out the tender spots on your neck. It seemed like he was determined to cover up the marks the demon from the club had left.

This wasn’t right though--you had come here to apologize to him, not to have him dote over you.

“Satan.” His name came out much breathier than you had planned, but it can’t be helped when said man was sucking on your neck. All you get in response is a hum that buzzed against your neck, the vibrations sending a shiver down your back. However, you still needed his full attention, so you dropped your leg from its position around his waist and your hands disentangled themselves from his hair, sliding down to his chest so you could ease him off of you. He parted from your neck with a quiet ‘pop’ and a displeased sigh, but lifted his head regardless.

Suddenly, a wave of nervousness washed over you, and you found yourself struggling to say the words that were threatening to burst out of your mind. It was annoying that this was happening now of all times, as if you hadn’t done just as much with other men before, but maybe that was it--Satan wasn’t just any other man. He was the very man that you had spent a good few months nursing a wounded heart over.

Shit, why was this so hard?

Almost as if he knew what was running through your head (which he probably did--he doesn’t miss many details) he grasped your hands in his own, rubbing soothing circles on them with his thumbs. “Go on.”

“I’m sorry for assuming how you felt,” you murmur softly, emboldened enough by his physical reassurance to be able to formulate at least coherent sentences. “Let me make it up to you. Please.”

“Well, what should I have you do to make it up to me?” You were acutely aware that he was teasing you as a wolfish grin split across his face and he once again began to press his body against yours. This time, there was a slightly new feeling where his hips met yours.

You donned a sly grin of your own as you freed one hand to gently trail it down his chest and abdomen, your fingers hooking themselves on his gaudy white belt. “I can do whatever you want, babe.”

#obey me #obey me: shall we date #obey me satan #obey me satan x reader #request

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forkanna · 4 years ago

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WARNING: Very N S F W. Includes sisterly incest, cunnilingus, anal play, tickling, foot worship, and as you probably expected... food kink.

Notes: HAPPY CORONATION DAY! I've been hanging onto this since I posted chapter 5 both because I wanted to make sure it was just right, and I thought it deserved to be released on an important day in the fandom's history: the date Elsa was crowned Queen of Arendelle in 1844. (We know this thanks to some smart cookies on Reddit haha)

So I know this should technically be from Elsa's POV if I continued to follow the convention I set up for myself, but I decided to keep writing it as Anna. It's been her story from the beginning and it should end as her story. Plus it's an epilogue, so it doesn't have to follow the rest of the fic's format! So there! AHAHAHAHA… I don't know, I'm tired.

And YES, this is the end. No sequels, no Epilogues-To-Epilogues; the MSB grand finale. I know a lot of you may have not seen my mention of an epilogue in the notes for last chapter, so hopefully you'll see this! If any of you want to continue Elsa and Anna's story in your own spinoff fanfics, be my guest (but please credit me); otherwise, I consider MSB to be at its natural ending. Hope you all enjoy the last slice!

In all seriousness, thanks to everyone who has waited this long for what is essentially a one-off smutty fic about D*sney sisters to be finished. I owe so much to this story; it changed my life in a very literal, very unexpected way. Elsa and Anna's true love thawed my jaded heart and encouraged me to keep writing, even when I was sank deep in the darkness of a miserable life, and to explore who I am in ways I never felt brave enough to do. I'm in such a better place now than when this began. It's been a pleasure being part of this fandom, and hopefully I will continue to enjoy it for a long time to come.

Until we meet again,

Jessex

[AO3] [WATTPAD] [QUOTEV]

EPILOGUE

Min Søsters Bursdagsmadrass: Anna

~ Five Months Later ~

Okay, okay, not quite five months have passed since we saved our kingdom from my sister's magic. Closer to four-and-a-half. But the time has flown by so much that it feels more like a week.

Kristoff and Sven came galloping up to the gates just as we were exiting. The ice boy was a lot less shocked that I was arm-in-arm with Elsa than I expected; probably because he pretty much already caught us in flagrante delicto before. He tried to offer congratulations, and I gave him a big hug to cut through all that awkwardness.

Olaf showed up not long after. Well, we came across a puddle that used to be Olaf; I'd know that carrot nose anywhere. Before I could start sobbing, Elsa calmly created a little ice-flurry and rebuilt him as easy as if she were breathing; he was disoriented, but didn't take long to be back to his cheerful self, hugging us and congratulating us on figuring out that we belonged together. That made sense the more I thought about it. Seriously, why wouldn't our snow-baby always know his parents should stay together?

Naturally, there were a few people who came to the levee that didn't condone our love. I wish I could say differently. Most of them were either too afraid to speak out against us — probably because my sister was some kind of ice witch, that tends to make even the bravest of men need a change of underwear — or they were genuinely happy we were happy, and summer was back. But one or two tried to shame us. Didn't go well, considering we were the monarchy and surrounded by supporters. More insisted we needed a king, at the very least for the purpose of heirs. I tried to tell them that Olaf was our heir, which got a lot of weird looks, but Elsa insisted that it was our decision if and when we crossed that bridge. I guess that's why she's the queen, right? I mean, can you imagine me as the queen of Arendelle? No way!

Hans was tried and convicted of treason against the kingdom. I didn't even go; I didn't want to look at him again if I could help it. But I watched from the castle walls with my sister as they led him away to a ship bound for the Southern Isles. We figured his family would make sure the sentence was severe if they wanted to maintain a good trade partnership with Arendelle. Plus, we wouldn't have to deal with him still being in our home. Win-win.

We also shipped old Weaseltown out. He can peacock-strut and backstab on his own turf.

Everything flew by a lot faster after those first few days. Kristoff was our new icemaster general — totally a real title, thank you — and Olaf's cheery presence got everyone used to the idea of magic. The people slowly grew to accept that their queen had a queen of her own. At first, we tried not to be too open with our relationship, but even though everybody thinks of me as the free spirit, it was Elsa who decided we should begin taking walks through the kingdom, hand-in-hand. At first, we got a few stinkeyes, but little by little, they saw we were happy, and not hurting anyone with our taboo love, and… it just became normal, I guess.

Which is fantastic! I mean, if they didn't I would have bought a whole collection of lutes to start smacking them with, but that didn't turn out to be necessary. Good thing; a co-queen shouldn't brawl with her subjects. Looks kinda bad.

As we hit the middle of December and the weather was turning colder without my sister's influence, I started scheming. We had enjoyed four wonderful months of getting to know each other all over again. Even though I'm basically a big ball of libido, somehow Elsa convinced me that we shouldn't just start banging each other's brains out every day. How dare she! But I have to admit, having that sex-free courtship time was somehow a magic all its own.

Because we were behind. By thirteen years. I found out just how well-read my sister was, since she had ploughed through book after book when she wasn't trying to practice controlling her magic. That was something we had in common, since I was often equally bored; it turned out we had read a lot of the same books, and we could compare our thoughts and feelings about them over many, many cups of tea. She never did start talking to paintings like I did, but when I introduced them to her, at least she was bemusedly giggling behind her hand instead of openly mocking me, or telling me I needed medical attention. And we went horseback riding, and swimming, ate breakfast, lunch, and dinner together. Started going through our parents' things at last, painful though it was. Learned about the kind of adults we had become since we last knew each other as children.

And kissed, sure. Just because we didn't start rolling around in the bed sheets right away didn't mean I was going to let us be complete prudes.

However… my sister's birthday was fast approaching, and I knew I had to do something big. Maybe in a literal sense. So the scheming turned to plotting, and the plotting turned to planning. And then the plans got put in motion leading up to her big day.

~ o ~

"Alright, alright, Olaf! I'm going!"

"Sorry, Elsa, but there's no time to waste!" I could hear him replying to her from the other side of the door. I could just barely see her slippered feet and his snow stumps through the crack underneath. So weird doing that from the inside this time… "I guess. I've never had a birthday, but Anna told me this is your biggest one yet, and we got a schedule to keep!"

"Okay, little guy," she laughed at him easily. Even though I couldn't see, I could just picture her petting over his head. "Thank you."

"Yep! And oh, I was supposed to do something else, it was… yeeeessss! Anna told me I should 'get lost for the rest of the day'. So I guess my question is, does that mean until sundown? Or midnight? And how lost do I have to get? I can get lost just in this castle, it's so big, but she was pointing at the gates when she said it…"

"Tell you what. Why don't you go pay Kristoff and Sven a visit? That should be far enough."

"But I won't be lost if I know where I'm going," he told her in a patient tone, as if she were the one who was missing something instead.

"My mistake," she laughed fondly. "Just have a little adventure outside of the castle and we will see you in the morning."

"Okie-dokie! Have fun, don't do anything I wouldn't do! Or do, because you're not me, so you should be doing things I wouldn't do? Maybe? Especially if I'm going to be getting lost and you don't need to be lost. I don't know if that's exactly…"

He was still talking by the time his voice started to fade around the corner. The rest of the sentence was cut off by Elsa knocking on my door.

"Go away, Elsa," I called back at her in an exaggeratedly pouty tone.

"Anna," she sighed. "Yes, I know I was the one saying that to you for a decade of our lives, but this joke is starting to get a little old now."

"Whaaaaaat? No, I don't think so."

"It's officially old as of today. Now, may I come in, or will you be coming out?"

"Think we both already did that last part," I giggled. "Did you, um, prepare?"

"For the love of- yes! Though I don't know why, I let Gerda bathe me thoroughly, and now I am standing outside your door, scrubbed raw and regretting that I listened to her, because you are being a pain in the-"

She didn't finish that thought because I unlocked the door just then. But I didn't open it for her. I was too busy scampering across the floor of my chambers to stand by the bed, grinning from ear-to-ear like a loon. And don't judge, okay? I'd been planning this for a long time.

"Um…" The door creaked open, and one of her baby blues peered around the inside of the darkened room. The sun had already set, so it was only the moonlight and the single candle on my bedside table providing illumination. "A-Anna?"

"Please enter," I said in a pretentiously royal tone.

"Oh, your robe is like mine," she said with a small smile as she eased the door shut behind her.

"Yep! Silk, from the East! I mean, you fill yours out a little better — especially up top. But that's one of the gifts. And I figured, hey, might as well get one for me, too!"

Barely glancing down at the blue silk covering her sizable assets, she shook her head with a small laugh. "It's very nice, thank you. But I thought I told you I didn't want you to make a big deal about my birthday; we should be focused on the Yule festivities for the kingdo-"

"No, no, no," I teased her with a wave of my index finger, bouncing on my heels excitedly. "This is the first time in thirteen years I have been able to celebrate this with you. Give me this one, okay?"

"When can we stop saying the number thirteen and start really enjoying our lives again?"

"When it's been fourteen years. Now… can you take that robe off and hop up on the bed for me?"

Oh, that shrewd little smirk that blossomed on my sister's face. It was both breathtakingly beautiful and super sexy. She was all the time, anyway, but there were moments that it stood out a lot more. "Ahhhh. So that's what all this is about, is it? You think tonight we are going to break our courtship."

"Mmmmaybe. But even if we don't, I still want more with you tonight. If that's okay," I added hastily, fidgeting with my hands behind my back.

"I see." Elsa stepped forward to smooth her hands up and down the green silk covering my chest, teasing her fingernails over my neck. Definitely not making it any easier to stop my lady parts from launching a hostile takeover of my brain, I can tell you! "And… this is very important to you, isn't it?"

"Y-yeah." Clearing my throat, I said, "And I understand why courting was important to you. And it's been great! Really, I loved getting to know you all over again, and we have been having so much fun. But… maybe just a little playing tonight? Please?"

As she glared across into my eyes, I brought my thumb and forefinger up between our faces, half an inch apart. That was all it took to make her burst out laughing.

"That little, hmm?" she finally chuckled as my cheeks burned. "Okay. I assume once I am in position, you will tackle me on this bed?"

"Yeah. Well, not 'tackle', but I'll join you. I just want you to feel how soft it is first."

That got Elsa's eyebrows raising in slight surprise. "Soft, hm? Did you get yourself a new bed for my birthday?"

"I dunno, did I?" I gasped. Hoping my acting skills were at least good enough to hide how excited I was.

Not quite. But at least Elsa hadn't fully figured out my cunning scheme. She pointed at my face and hissed under her breath, "There had better not be anyone hiding in here."

"Hiding? Wait, why would I stick anybody else in here and then tell you to take off your clothes?"

"How should I know? Sometimes you have a really strange sense of humour, Anna."

"Not that strange! Surprise creepy people sounds plain old mean!" But before she could say anything else, I placed a hand over my heart and raised the other one. "I do hereby solemnly pledge that nobody is going to jump out of the wardrobe at you. Or anything else like that."

"Fine, I believe you," she laughed as she stepped from her slippers and let the silk fall from her shoulders, exposing her smooth, pale back. Even now that we had been going for walks and rides, she was still white as alabaster, despite the alternating tans and sunburns I had.

"Mmm…"

"Again, my birthday seems to be full of gifts for you," she accused playfully with a little glance over her shoulder at me as she approached the bed, moving to climb atop it. "Little pervAAAHHH?!"

SPLAT.

Nope, I definitely couldn't hold back anymore. I wrapped my arms around my middle and burst out into gales of laughter, shaking all over and trying my best not to fall down. "ELSA! Your face — you should see your face!"

"I'm- what is- ANNA!" my poor sister finally burst out as she slipped and slid everywhere, defiling all my hard work. "What is the meaning of this?! What IS this, where did- is this CAKE?!"

Cackling and bouncing up and down as I clapped my hands, I finally crowed, "YES! Isn't it incredible?! Doesn't it look just like my bed? I mean, it did before you jumped on it, but even still, the rest of it!"

God, she looked hilarious. I was laughing, but was doing my best not to actually point at Elsa while I did it. And anyone would have laughed; her face covered in so much chocolate and frosting, a huge chunk falling from her chin to splash onto her right breast even while she blinked at me in wonder. Never had our regal queen looked so un-regal.

"You… made… a bed-sized cake… just to play this prank on me." She scraped some of the frosting from her eyelids and flicked it away, turning slightly so she could kneel on the layers of confection. That only made me laugh so hard I snorted like a pig. "This is… I have no words. I literally have no words, I could never have anticipated this."

"Aww, don't be grumpy," I teased breathlessly as I got rid of my own robe, dropping it right next to hers. "Just because I got you good this time! You freaked out, it was the most amazing thing I've watched in my whole life!"

"Yes, well, the show is ov- Anna, what are you doing now? Don't tell me- are you going to jump into this cake with me?! That's insane!"

I hesitated. "Well… I was before you called it 'insane'…" But then I approached the edge of the bed, hands on my hips. No way was I going to chicken out that easily. "This wasn't just a prank. I really wanted to do this for you."

That finally got her to laugh, and when she started she found it hard to stop. I laughed with her, watching her slap her caked thigh a few times. But before I could join her on the bed, she suddenly breathed, "Insane… but beautiful. I've never seen a woman more lovely in the entire world."

My heart skipped over a beat, and I hoped she couldn't tell how hard my nipples were in the low light. "Ahhhhh, now you're just lying. We both know you own a mirror."

"Nice try," she laughed, biting her sugar-coated lip for a moment to weather my counter-compliment. Then she tilted her head slightly while asking, "Why? This is the strangest surprise I have ever received — and that includes that certain birthday of yours. But I can tell it means a lot to you, so could you help me…?"

Great. Now I had to actually face the music, and it was going to take a lot of exposing of feelings. So I took a deep breath before throwing my inhibitions to the wind... and letting my knees sink into the cake.

"That is so wrong," I groaned, feeling one of my eyes twitch.

"I know. But once you get used to it, it's… still wrong, but interesting." She was leaning slightly on one arm, moving her legs out to one side. Always so ladylike, even in a big mound of baked sweetness.

"So here it is," I sighed. "You and me, even when we were really little… chocolate was our soft spot. We could never resist it. And especially after my birthday, when we bonded over it again… I knew your birthday had to be something big, since I could finally celebrate it with you. Something that mattered to both of us. And fun! I thought fun was really important, too. Took me a while to figure out just how I wanted to do this, but once I had this idea, I just… I knew. This was the only thing that would be good enough."

Though she had been listening with a small smile, my last sentence wiped it away. Why? What did I say wrong? Her cake-slicked hand lifted to caress my cheek.

"Anna, anything would have been good enough. Even if this had turned out to be a normal bed, I would have been so happy. How much you spend, how much you plan these gifts, it's sweet but you don't have to go to so much trouble. Don't you know my favourite gift is you?"

My lips only got the chance to part very slightly — when she booped me. She booped my nose with frosting on that finger. The Queen of Arendelle, everybody.

"You little stinker." But her words kept me from retaliating. "You… you mean that, huh? That I'm enough?"

"I do." Her lips pecked mine. "You always have been. I'm just sorry I wasn't able to show you until these past few months. But now, I get to make up for lost time."

Sliding closer, I whispered, "Same here."

And that was as far as I could get before I was attacking her mouth. Elsa welcomed me gratefully, humming as she pulled my body closer. I knew she was getting cake all over me, but I had kind of resigned myself to that when I concocted this whole crazy scheme. Literally concocted.

Which was what she asked about next. "How long did this take to bake?"

"Oh, a couple of days. The trick was keeping the parts we already made fresh so they wouldn't spoil before we finished the rest of it. Kristoff helped me with that, grabbed me a few blocks of ice; normally I would ask you to do it with a little magic, but I mean, since it was a surprise for you that would have been pretty stupid."

"Yes, I suppose so," she giggled, rubbing her fingertips against each other experimentally. "Smooth frosting… buttercream?"

"Of course! And I wanted to add a bunch of berries, but then it wouldn't have looked like my bed, because I don't normally have a bunch of berries on it." While Elsa laughed again, I slipped my arms around her waist. "And yeah, I know you still think it's weird I wanted to be in a cake like this. Plus it's a big waste of food. But for just this one birthday, the first one since we reunited, I wanted to give you something so big it was literally all around us. Like we're part of the cake instead of just the other way around."

Her voice was so gentle and warm when she responded, "I believed you the first time, Anna. But thank you for elaborating. I love knowing how you think, how your mind works. My amazing, clever sister."

Again, we kissed, deeper and longer and with no inhibitions. We tried to restrain ourselves when we were out in public, of course, but alone in my room? Nobody looking over our shoulders? Free as wild horses.

By the time we came up for air, I was no longer the clean one because we had been rolling around in the cake-bed. Sure, I still felt guilty for putting the castle cooks through so much work just so we could wreck it, but at least Kristoff and I gave them a hand — and I gave them the day off once they were through. Anyway, basically the only places where chocolate and frosting hadn't accumulated multiple layers was our faces, because they were so close to each other that nothing could get in between them.

"Are we supposed to be eating any of this?" Elsa laughed, running her finger through some on my shoulder.

"Well, yeah. I wouldn't have done this if it was just for show; this might as well have been a big frosted mud pie." Then I held up…

"Anna, where could you possibly have been hiding that?!"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Elsa merely blinked at me for a few seconds until I caved. "Okay, I had it in my butt."

"What- that sounds incredibly painful!"

"No, no, I was just clenching my cheeks on the handle. Obviously! Like I used the handle outside your door that first time. Come on, do you really think anybody would stick the pointy part into anywhere that sensitive?"

"Well, it is you," she laughed as she reached for the fork. Our fork. "Though I suppose I admire the control you have over your muscles back there." Then she hesitated, her brow furrowing. I could figure out what was holding her back.

"I also took one of Gerda's very thorough baths," I informed her to put her fears at ease. Which made her finally take it with a slight shake of her head. "Oh — and I helped one of the servants mop the floor before we got started in here. Trust me, when I say you can eat off the floor, I really mean it this time."

"You really have thought of everything; such attention to detail. It's almost a little scary."

"Love makes you a little scary sometimes, I guess."

"I guess." Then she slid the fork through some of the cake that we hadn't already rolled in, bringing it up to my lips. "After you."

"Oh! Wait… you first, it's your birthday."

"Diving into it counted as me going first," she chuckled. "Besides, I tasted a little on your lips once they caught some from my lips. Go on." And since I had no argument against that, and she was looking at me with those bemused, insistent eyes, I took the bite into my mouth.

"Ohmyghob, ibzo goob!"

"Anna, manners." Which I could appreciate the irony, since there were very little manners involved in rolling around in a giant cake. Probably. Maybe they do that more often in Corona…

"You have GOT to try this," I gushed once I had swallowed, grabbing the fork and scooping up another big bite for my sister.

"Can't I have a different fork?" But I wasn't budging. And she knew how important that particular utensil was to the both of us. "Gerda bathed you the same way she bathed me, didn't she?"

"It was like standing in a geyser."

"Fine." She accepted her first proper bite. Her blue eyes slid closed in ecstasy as she hummed her approval, eventually nodding after she had chewed for a moment.

"Amazing, right?" All she did was nod, raising a hand to give the okay symbol. So I helped myself to another bite, clutching my hand to my chest as tears welled up in my eyes.

Seriously, it was that good. Best cake I ever had in my life, up to and including the one with my sister's extra frosting.

"Okay," Elsa panted a couple minutes later when we had eaten our fill for the moment. "I was teasing you before, but I take it all back; I do want to live here and sleep here."

"Surrounded by layers of chocolatey goodness?" I giggled as I flopped onto my back, spread eagle in piles of sweet perfection. It was like Heaven, or Valhalla or whatever you believe is the good afterlife.

"Exactly. Fun and function." I glanced over to see she was lying on her side, propped up on one elbow so she could look down at me with a smile full of so much affection that my heart skipped a beat. "So very you."

At first all I did was chuckle a little and smile up at her. But then when she leaned down to kiss my chest, I let my eyes fall closed as a little sigh escaped my lips. "Mmm…"

"You were after something like this, I believe?"

Opening my eyes again, I was just in time to see her tongue slide across the meat of my right breast, the one closest to her. The track of freckled skin she revealed by cutting through the chocolate confection gleamed from her saliva, and it was somehow both offensive and arousing at the same time.

"Y-yeah. Something like that." I cleared my throat and caressed along her back, through cake and hair. "But you don't have to. If that whole courting thing is so-"

"We can take a break," she interrupted with an impish smile. "One night, for both Yule and my birthday. And for you, because I know how hard it has been to keep your hands off me."

A blast of air exploded from my lungs as she licked again. "HAH! W-wow, somebody's conceited in here, and I think her name rhymes with… with, uh…"

"With what? Jelsa?"

"No, that's not a thing."

I was still trying to think of a rhyme for her name when she found my nipple, and my squeal blasted every thought out of both of our minds. My chest was a feast for my sister for the moment as my conscious thoughts faded, simply letting her enjoy me. Because I enjoyed it just as much. A few times, she hit the nerves just right that I twitched, digging my nails briefly into her back and making her hiss in response. Some extra added fun.

Then she started moving down my stomach. I knew where she was going; this wasn't our first time trying this particular activity. But the butterflies were as fresh as ever, and my thighs tried to trap her head there.

"Oh, not tonight?" she purred.

"Reflex," I panted shortly, trying not to laugh at the cake all over her face now. Because even though it was funny, it also wasn't… since she was about to go to town on me.

Oh, she did. She really, really did — and it blew my mind so much more this time, somehow. Maybe it was because for the past few months, I only had that fork handle for company in my bed. Being pent up and needy tends to make the release ten times stronger, you know.

"Elsa!" I whined after a few hours. Okay, it was probably a minute or two, but it felt like so long! "You're really… how did you… get this good?!"

By the time she came up for air to answer me, she was gripping my ass cheeks to hold my pelvis closer to her face. "You're worth trying my best for, Anna. And… I may have practiced on an ice-replica." When I laughed at that, a frosting-smeared eyebrow arched. "Ooh…"

"What?"

"Oh, nothing. Your backside is so firm, and I felt it flexing in my hands. Powerful."

"Y-yeah, I exercise a lot. Could probably pick up a gold coin with it."

"Really?" I felt her poking around back there, and I clenched — again, reflex. "Wow. Do you think… you could squeeze this?"

Before I had any chance to ask a question or protest, I felt a finger sliding between my cheeks. What in the fjord was Elsa doing?! It felt wrong, and disturbing… and hot? Was it hot somehow?! Maybe, but only because it was her, and she had already been going down on me, I'm pretty sure; if anybody else had tried that, especially when I wasn't already chomping at the bit to get off, their hand would be kindling for the fireplace in the corner.

So don't let anybody tell you Elsa is a prude who would never do anything like that. That whole regal facade is just a smoke screen. She can get just as wild as me.

"Wow, your muscles really are strong," Elsa breathed in honest surprise, not just teasing me. "I'm impressed."

Freya, I tried so hard to hold it together. To control my reaction. But as she dragged her finger back from my crack, brushing the little forbidden spot that I had been trying not to think about, I shivered and let out a little moan. Dooming myself.

"Anna?"

"Yes! I m-mean, hello, yeah, you can… you can start back in on the goods now! Remember my goods? Right there in front of you?"

"No, wait. Did you enjoy…?" Probably trying to spare me some embarrassment, she didn't finish the sentence. Instead, she raised her frosting-covered finger and flexed it in my field of vision.

"Oh, did I really get cake in there, too? Sheeze, we've really been going crazy!"

My nervous laughter made it way too obvious I was just trying to distract my sister. Why was I so bad at that sometimes? She looked at me suspiciously for a moment, then glanced at the finger, then back at me.

"Anna-"

"Please, can we not-"

"Anna, it's okay. If you want me to leave that alone, I will; I was only asking how you felt about it. That's all."

Though her words didn't dial back my embarrassment, it soothed away the anxiety spike. "Oh. Well… no, I didn't mind that much. Not really. It's just because… like, after all you've been doing to my clit and tits, I'm kind of sensitive… everywhere. So it was pretty interesting, but I would never ask you to do it again! That's too big a favour!"

Elsa thought that over for a moment, and I finally started to relax. Then she kissed my inner thigh. "Just relax, my love. My Lord Anna." I groaned, thinking back to the coronation ball. Even though it all worked out okay. "I'll take care of you. And all you have to do is ask, and I will stop or change what I am doing. You can always talk to me, alright?"

"Okay," I said, completely relieved. My queen was so sweet to me, always taking care of me as much as she could. Making me feel safe.

Well, I did feel a little less safe when she started kissing closer to my behind. And then when I felt two thumbs pulling the cheeks apart, I wriggled all over and gasped out, "WHOA! Elsa, are you- you're not gonna-"

"Just going to try to get the cake in here," she laughed softly. "Unless you have objections."

Did I? The whole thing was too weird to have any objections. And while I was still trying to come up with one, I felt that wriggling tongue press somewhere I had never wanted or needed it to go. Was Elsa really doing this? She really didn't mind? We did enough wrong and taboo things already that this just seemed like one step too far! But the way she was going at my ass suggested she didn't agree.

And it was… different. Not good, not bad; just unsettling even while it was stimulating. When she was still at it a minute later with no signs of stopping, one of my hands started trailing the handle of that trusty fork down my stomach. Maybe, if I could take care of the main attraction, a little sideshow in the back room wouldn't be so bad.

"Mm?" she hummed, tongue still sliding over my taut skin. She must have seen my fingers moving, because she drew back with a chuckle. "Oh, did you need me to move along?"

"Y-yeah, Elsa, I… we could try that again later, but right now I'm…"

With a solemn nod, she went right back to going down on me. Who could complain about a girlfriend like that? Just takes care of my needs without any complaint. What an angel.

"Oh ffff- MMM!" Yeah, I had to scream into my hand to let out some of my energy. Luckily, it wasn't the one holding the fork or I might have stabbed myself in the face. A minute later, I gasped, "Elsa! I'm almost there! Almost there!"

My sister did not slow down until I actually was there. It felt like she had six tongues instead of two — which she might actually have been able to pull off if she used her ice powers, but I didn't feel her mouth get any colder. I came so hard and shook all over, and the whole time Elsa just held onto my hips and devoured me like I was the best cake she had ever tried. Which was probably how she felt.

Once my heat faded, she lowered me into the cake again and smirked. "That happened awfully quickly for someone who didn't like me playing with her a little lower than usual."

"Y-yeah! Well… you… let me get pent up for multiple months!"

"That is fair. I hope my apology was satisfactory."

Pretending to think real hard about it, I screwed up my face and tapped my chin. Elsa laughed. "Weeeeeelllllllllll… on one condition."

"What condition?" She started when I moved to pin her to the bed. "Oh!"

"This one." My chosen target was her neck. She shivered a little when I ran my tongue along it, enjoying the rich chocolate mixing with the light purity of her skin. I wanted to eat Elsa whole.

"Anna… you… make it hard to breathe."

"Elsa…"

"N-no, I… I'm really-!"

With a shock, I realized she meant the way my hand was pushing into the middle of her abdomen. "OH! Shit, Elsa, I'm sorry, I didn't mean-" As she took a deep breath, I caressed her side. "Better? Man, I am just really dumb sometimes…"

Elsa pulled me down into her embrace. "We already covered that. You are not dumb. You have never been dumb."

"You sure? I mean, not that I'm trying to argue with you, but you keep saying that and then I keep doing dumb things."

"Because you're excited. I am, too; I've just had a lot more practice... controlling myself."

For good reason. But since she wasn't judging me, I pushed myself back up to begin devouring the cake covering her ribs and stomach. She giggled a couple of times, and I smiled at the way her abdominal muscles flexed under my lips, bumping up against my nose. I could have kept eating off her and exploring her for hours and never got bored. Not once.

"Mmhhh, this really is so good," I sighed as I got closer and closer to the finish line. "The cake, you… who could ask for more?"

"I'm glad you… approve." But I could tell she was nervous. Why? It's not like this was the first time we had done anything like this; just the first in a little while.

"Elsa?" She didn't answer right away. Watching her bite her lip and look anxious was cute, but I still prompted her, "Hey. You okay?"

"What? Oh… yes, I'm fine." My face must have looked extra unconvinced, because a second later, she relented. "I'm still a little afraid of losing control of my powers when I…"

"When you what? Oh, wait, you're- right, got it, you don't need to explain. But hey, even when you've done that before, all you did was give me a little extra blast of snow. I don't mind a cold cake."

Tittering the slightest amount, despite the fear in her eyes, she reached down to run her fingers through my sugar-matted fringe. "Neither of us do. And I know you're probably right, but I can't help but worry I will hurt you for a third time. I don't think I could take that."

"Me, either. But you won't. I hear you, I do, but I know you have a handle on this now. You've been doing so good! Nobody in Arendelle is scared of you anymore. So just… let me do the magic this time."

That was that. Even though she was still biting her lip, her brow still creased, she didn't protest further as I kissed the inside of her thigh, devouring the frosting I found there. But I still didn't like that she was wound up so tight. So I figured hey, why not try to loosen her up?

"So, if I get a couple of fingers in you and really start going to town… does that make this pound-cake?"

Oh, now she looked mad. I barely had enough time to register the movement before her foot was pushing into my face, trying to shove me off the bed entirely.

"Hey, whoa whoa, Elsa! Come on, I'm sorry!"

"Why don't I believe you?" she demanded in a would-be stern voice. The answer might have been because I was laughing up a storm. But I caught sight of her smile, which told me she was just trying to mess around with me. One of the many things I had been missing over the past thirteen years.

"Truce! I'll keep my corny jokes to myself if you don't shove me the rest of the way off this bed!" Really, I already had to whip one leg back and brace against the floor to keep from falling as it was. But she slowly began to relent. "Thank you."

"I ought to put my finger back in your 'fork holder' for that one," she grunted.

"It was one time! I don't go around carrying forks back there all the time, you know!"

"Actually, no, I don't know that. Because I never inspect the back of your dress when you are casually walking down the halls."

"You could, though…" As she just shook her head at me, I decided to get a little more playful.

"AH! Not my feet — don't bite my feet, you know how ticklish iyyyahahahhaaaa!"

Too late. My teeth were nibbling all over her chocolatey toes in retaliation for almost being knocked on my butt. The way she began kicking was extremely dangerous, but at least now my childhood memories were intact; I remembered learning by watching our father that you had to hold her leg steady when you tickled her, or you were asking for an eyeful of flailing heel.

"STOP!" she cackled. "I'm- I am about to ruin this cake! Anna!"

Right away, I broke off with a laugh. No matter how much fun I was having, it wasn't worth ruining an entire cake-bed by making her wet herself. "Okay, okay. Yellow frosting is as bad as yellow snow, I guess."

"You… monster!" But she was still laughing a little, cheeks flushed, chest rising and falling in an attempt to regain her breath. Which looked like she had been doing something else.

Flawless. I was head over heels, alright.

"Sorry. But do you know how cute you are when you get tickled?"

Clearing her throat, she pushed up onto her elbows before answering me. "That is… because I didn't get to run around outside the way you did. Not after my ninth birthday. So my feet are…"

Oh. Well that was a sad reason for them to be extra sensitive. But I decided to simply kiss the one I had been attacking and say, "Perfect. You were gonna say 'perfect' right? Because that's the only answer I'm accepting right now."

Shaking her head a little at me, she let out an exasperated sigh that was followed by a small smile. "You're too kind to me."

"Nah. Just know you deserve the best."

Again, I kissed, and she hummed as her smile grew. When my lips parted to let my tongue slide between two of her toes, she rolled her eyes and pulled her foot away. "Fine, I get it, you love every inch of me."

"Glad we got that straightened out. Now, I have my eye on a couple of pastries… one sec."

Her hand raised up to rest on the back of my head when I attacked her chest. I figured she would probably appreciate having some time to recover before I went back between her thighs. The sounds floating out of her lungs were every bit as enthralling as if I had gone straight for the crux of her thighs, of course, but at least this way I could enjoy my cake a little longer.

"You are… so persistent." I switched to the other peak, my hand wrapping around the mountain below and kneading just enough to add pressure and pleasure without causing pain. "Mmmhh, and I almost want to ask if you have been practicing on someone else!"

"Maybe I made an ice-replica," I shot at her as I moved back down. Her grin was so huge. "Okay, I'm ready. Let's do this."

"You make it sound like you're about to go cliff-diving!" she laughed.

"Oh, I am. I'm about to dive down deep into your sound."

Elsa's lips parted, probably to reprimand me for another corny line. But all that came out was a moan when I pressed my mouth tightly against her soft folds through the frosting and chocolate. And I intended to clean every speck of that from her by the time I was finished.

My Elsa. My queen of snow and ice, grace and beauty and power. The only woman in the world. My mind and heart were full of desire for the goddess I was making writhe with my every teasing touch. And it wasn't just that she was the most beautiful girl in Arendelle, not that she had given me an orgasm so recently. This was about way more than repaying a debt or physical beauty; it was my sister. The one person who had always been a part of me, and who always will.

"A-Anna!" she gasped — well, she had been doing that for a couple of minutes, but this one was louder and stronger. Somehow, I just knew what she meant. "I'm… I'm still scared! I love you!"

I loved her, too. But I wanted to show her in some way besides slowing down to tell her with words. So I moved one hand from her hip to push our fork into hers, which had been clutching uselessly at another pile of birthday cake. And wow, did she respond! My hand was caught with the fork between our fingers, and it was such a tight grip that I felt like she would never let me go again.

Which did as much for me as I might have been doing for her.

There was more snow this time. Somehow, I had kind of expected that; I mean, when you tell an ice witch that she shouldn't hold back with her power, you're going to get more power. Makes sense, right? But even while I was still feeling her flesh pulse against my lips and tongue, her juices running down my chin, tiny pinpricks of cold were dusting my back in the spots that weren't covered by chocolate.

"Oh," I panted when I finally came up for air, satisfied that she no longer needed little licks for little aftershocks. "Snow! See? I told you everything would be fine. And this isn't even that bad!"

Though of course, we were both looking around at the winter wonderland filling the room. It was only a couple of inches deep, but spread over that large an area it still added up to a decent amount.

"It's… a lot," she panted. "But at least there aren't any… nothing dangerous."

Scoffing, I crawled up to lay my head on her shoulder, curling my entire body around hers as tightly as I could. Needing to be that close to her now. "Dangerous? You? Come on, you're a big pussycat."

"We both know… that's… a stretch." Finally, she cleared her throat and simply took in a couple of deep breaths so she wouldn't be so winded. Then she turned to look into my eyes with a smile full of afterglow and affection. "Thank you. For that, for all of this; for my perfect birthday night."

"Yeah. You got it. I'm always going to show you how much I love you, no matter how big I have to go to get the point across."

"Anna, you don't have to. I already know." We shared a firm kiss. Then she crinkled her nose. "Oh, that's… did you really enjoy me adding that to your cake? It's so strange."

"Maybe I wouldn't have if I didn't know what it was," I admitted with a giggle. "But knowing? Oh yeah. Totally hot."

"If you say so." Then she suddenly looked horrified. "Oh no — my lips have- you were kissing-"

"All I tasted was Sister-Queen and cake," I headed her off before she actually said it out loud. "Don't have to make it even more gross. Seriously, you didn't run away from my butt? I thought that would be a fate worse than death!"

"No, no," she reassured me, completely contented now that we had both enjoyed ourselves and could relax. "I wasn't lying for your benefit; it wasn't that bad. Especially when mixed with chocolate cake. Though I agree with you about my essence on this subject; probably wouldn't have enjoyed it not knowing what it is, or by itself. Well…"

Running my index fingertip in small circles on her stomach, I prompted, "Well?"

"I could try it by itself. Maybe. Someday."

"Go ahead. I won't… well, I might judge a little, but since we're already sisters who knock boots, it's not gonna hold a lot of water."

"Mmhmm. I suppose that's a valid point."

"Ohhhhh, I just wanna lay here forever!" I burst out as I curled even harder around Elsa, and she laughed again, nuzzling into my hair. "Though I do have another bath ready in the next chamber. I'm no doctor, but it's probably not the best idea for us to leave cake in some of the places we have cake right now."

Nodding, she whispered, "In a minute. This is so comfortable. Actually, I'm surprised we're not sinking all the way down to the floor."

"Oh — yeah, that's because we took a bed-sized wooden box and made the cake on top of that. Like, it's pretty much a bunch of little cakes smushed together in a grid pattern to make one huge sheet cake, and then we just put the icing all over it and down the sides with the right colours and patterns. So it looked like a real bed, with a quilt and all."

"Clever," she chuckled, scratching at my rib cage just enough to prompt a giggle from me before she stopped. "Really, I was flabbergasted at first, but now I really admire all the work you did for this. Because it turned out to be a lot of fun."

Her praise made my heart glow. "It did, didn't it? Chocolate cake slumber party. Go me."

We both fell into the kind of comfortable silence you can only have with family. Lover, sister, friend… Elsa was all of those things to me. And we had beaten all the odds and found our way back to each other, and we were alive, and our lives were wonderful. There wasn't much else I could ask for.

"I love you, my Anna," she breathed into my hair before rolling over to prop herself up on her elbow and look at me. I mirrored the gesture, gazing into her eyes.

"Love you, too, Majesty. And I always will."

Elsa kissed me hard and long, and held me close for such a long time that time itself ceased to hold meaning. Definitely not your run-of-the-mill anniversary of being born, but I finally knew: what we had? Different-good. The best kind of different a princess could ask for.

~ Takk for Reisen ~

#Min Søster Bursdagskake #cake fic #min soster bursdagskake #forkanna writes #elsanna fanfiction #elsanna fandom #elsanna #jess the writer #the cake fic

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flightfoot · 4 years ago

Text

The Role of an Alpha

AO3 @adrichatnovember2020

Adrien hid in his room, breathing deeply.

Earlier that day he’d presented as an Alpha.

His father, of course, was thrilled.

“So you are an Alpha.”

That was the first thing he’d said to Adrien as he walked through the door, having been sent home early by the school nurse.

Adrien took in his father’s scent.

Strong.

Musky.

Very clearly Alpha.

Not that he needed to smell him to know that. Gabriel exuded Alphaness in everything he did, from the way he brushed over other’s concerns to the way he asserted his will, expected everyone to submit to his needs and wishes.

“Alphas are in charge, as nature intends,” he’d told Adrien before, tightly gripping his shoulder. “Omegas simply exist to follow orders, betas little better.”

Looking into Adrien’s eyes, he’d asked him softly, “You’re going to be an Alpha, aren’t you?”

Adrien had wanted to respond. To tell him that he had no idea, it wasn’t exactly something he was in control of. And deeper down, that if THIS was what it meant to be an Alpha - if being an Alpha just meant stepping over everyone else - then he’d rather be anything else.

Ultimately, he’d said nothing.

But now that he’d presented?

The part of him that’d balked then, that’d wanted to protest, to chew him out, was too strong to ignore.

“That’s all you care about, isn’t it?” Adrien snapped bitterly. “That I’m on top. That I’m above everyone else. That I don’t somehow reflect badly on you.”

His father’s eyes widened. “Mind your tongue!” he snarled, a small growl emerging. “I am still your father. You may be an Alpha, but you’re still just a pup. And I am YOUR Alpha.”

“Is that all being an Alpha means to you? Yelling at everyone else, punishing them if they step out of line - out of YOUR line?!”

Gabriel’s eyes hardened. He stepped down the stairs, each footfall a prognostication of doom.

He grabbed Adrien’s wrist. “I do not think you will need these anymore,” he’d told Adrien, throwing away the suppression pills the nurse had given him to help him ride through his first rut. “You will get through it like an Alpha should, not debasing yourself with suppressants,” he said in disgust.

And that was how Adrien had ended up here, desperately trying to ignore his body’s anguished cries.

He grit his teeth. Most of the Alphas in class had Omega friends to calm their hormones, to keep them comfortable, and vice versa. Chloe had Sabrina for instance, while Alya had Marinette.

He hadn’t been around for Alya’s presentation, sadly. But Marinette had recounted it with great gusto during one of the few opportunities they had to hang out.

Chloe’d been tearing into Marinette on the first day of the new school year, trying to get her to move seats. She’d just presented as an Alpha a couple months ago and had been thoroughly enjoying the added intimidation boost it provided her.

She hadn’t expected some random new girl to stand up to her.

Nor for that girl to suddenly start leaking a musky scent.

Since then Alya’d taken a lead in protecting the class - though protecting HERSELF? Not so much.

Not that she was the only one. Marinette had been inspired by Alya’s display, had gotten some confidence herself, to the point she ran for - and won! - the class rep position, with Alya as. her deputy.

Her subsequent reveal as an omega had come as a shock. Everyone had assumed she’d be an Alpha, or a Beta at least.

But Omega?

She’d seemed nervous, scared even, when she first presented.

Afraid that her friends would treat her differently.

But well… she was still Marinette. Her being an Omega didn’t change that.

She was still their friend, still their class rep.

Omegas had grown more common in leadership positions - something Paris became acutely aware of when Ladybug herself presented.

It had been assumed by most of Paris’s population that the suits masked the two heroes’ scent glands. That Ladybug was almost certainly an Alpha, POSSIBLY a Beta, and that Chat Noir was probably an Omega, possibly a Beta.

Until Ladybug had arrived at a fight, feverish and smelling sweet.

They’d still defeated the akuma, but Chat Noir had had to do more heavy lifting than normal - there was a reason Omegas were often given reduced workloads during their heats, especially anything requiring physical exertion.

Whispers emerged throughout Paris. ‘Can Ladybug really protect us if she’s vulnerable to an Omega’s heats?’ ‘An Omega, even one with superpowers, shouldn’t expect others to follow their orders. It isn’t the way of things.’ and worst of all ‘Ladybug should give her Miraculous to an Alpha. They’ll make better use of it than she ever has.’

People began looking to Chat Noir more, addressing him as the leader instead of Ladybug, who they’d deferred to before. Something that clearly made both Ladybug and Chat Noir uncomfortable, with Ladybug looking downcast and Chat Noir being more snappish with the press.

Until finally they’d given a news conference, Ladybug and Chat Noir taking the stage, addressing the preconceptions and discrimination Ladybug had been put through by the city because of her being an Omega.

Not that she was the only one.

Many other prominent Omegas emerged to tell their story. Even some less prominent, more ordinary citizens, pushing back against the idea that being an Omega made someone somehow less worthy of respect, less worth listening to.

The Ladyblog featured all of this in great detail of course, with follow-up interviews with everyone who’d spoken. As Alya and Marinette excitedly told the class afterwards, they’d helped arrange it, researching activists in their area as well as asking for people to message the Ladyblog with their thoughts and experiences being an Omega.

A lot of the grumbling had died down after that - at least where the rest of Paris could hear it.

Adrien grimaced. Unfortunately, Father had been one of the ones who HADN’T been cowed.

Not that he’d expected him to be, with his… traditional attitude towards Alpha’s, Beta’s, and Omega’s roles in society.

Fumbling around, Adrien reached out from underneath the covers, grabbing the remote that opened up his window. Much too high to climb out of unfortunately (he’d tried), but at least it let in the cool air from outside. Right now, that sounded good.

Ahhh.

He was right, this did feel good. And something about the air smelled exceptional today...

As if in a trance, he left his blanket fort, coming closer to the window.

Closing his eyes, he took in a deep breath.

It smelled so NICE, so sweet, almost like-

His eyes blew open.

Just in time to get a face-full of superhero.

“OOPH!”

Adrien blinked.

Green, slitted cat eyes blinked back.

And drooped as Chat Noir turned into a pile of mush in his arms, purring up a storm as he cuddled close.

Careful not to disturb him, Adrien leaned in near his neck, getting a good whiff of his scent glands.

Omega.

Very, very clearly Omega.

He examined Chat Noir more closely; his flushed cheeks, his twitching tail, his glazed eyes.

“Chat Noir?” he asked carefully. “Are you alright?”

He kicked himself. Of COURSE he wasn’t alright, he was in the midst of his first heat - a pretty intense one too, from the looks of things.

“Mmmmphhhhhrrrrrrrr?” Chat Noir asked.

Well. ‘Asked’ may have been overselling it a bit. ‘Mewled with a questioning tone’ more like.

“Do you know where you are?” He clarified.

Chat Noir just purred and nuzzled his neck, getting a good whiff of his own scent glands.

WOW he was out of it.

“I’m gonna move you, alright?” he told Chat Noir softly, picking him up as gently as he could.

He’d seen how Alya’d helped Marinette through her own heats, though none of them had been as bad as this.

First, a nest.

At least that was easy - good thing, since he had zero notice to prepare one.

Lowering Chat Noir into the mess of blankets he’d just vacated (Chat giving a confused-sounding “mew?” as he did so), he got up to find what else he needed.

A couple minutes later he was back at Chat Noir’s side, coaxing him to drink sips of some nice, cold water, as well as bringing him the few stuffed animals he’d managed to save from his father’s purges.

As Chat Noir sipped the water (Adrien holding onto the cup; right now Chat didn’t seem confident in his ability to hold it steady), the red gradually started fading a little.

Adrien put his hand on Chat Noir’s forehead. He definitely felt cooler than he had when he first landed on him.

“Chat Noir?” he tried again, making sure to keep his voice low and soft. “Do you know where you are?”

Chat Noir blinked up at him, still looking a little hazy, but like he was at least attempting to focus. “You’re… that model boy… right?” he asked hesitantly. His voice sounded a little slurred, but at least he was speaking words.

Inwardly Adrien winced. Of course that’d be what he was known for; how ELSE would Chat Noir have heard of him? It’s not like he knew either of the Parisian heroes very well. They’d run across each other during akuma attacks of course, especially with how often their class ended up targeted in one way or another, but they didn’t exactly have time to chat.

Outwardly he made sure to not change his expression. “Yeah, that’s me. You crashed into my house a few minutes ago.”

Chat Noir vaguely looked around. Adrien suspected he’d just become aware of his surroundings.

A tinge of panic colored Chat’s expression. “I- I’m sorry,” he burst out, shrinking in on himself. “I- I didn’t mean to- if you want me to go, I’ll go.”

Adrien shook his head, kneeling down so his head was level with Chat’s. “If you want to leave, then you can. I don’t want you to stay any longer than you’re comfortable with.”

Chat’s eyes widened, then relaxed a bit, looking downcast. He began shuffling around with the blankets, attempting to stand.

Omega unhappy needs reassurance needs support

Adrien sucked in a breath. That surge of protectiveness, of the need to defend, to make sure Chat Noir was okay - he’d never felt anything quite like it before.

This… this was what being an Alpha meant to him. Not trampling over others, exerting will and dominance over them.

But being there for them if they needed it, helping to make sure every member of the pack knew how much they were wanted, needed, cared for. To lift them up, not tear them down.

Sometimes that might mean giving them space.

Sometimes that might mean staying put, letting them know you’ll be by their side.

“But just because I’m okay with you leaving, doesn’t mean I want you to,” he told Chat Noir, trying to possess every ounce of sincerity he could muster, to reach out and let him know on a fundamental level how much he cared for him. “I don’t want to keep you here or coerce you to stay. I don’t want to force you into anything, or feel like you need to do anything to please me or because you feel like you need to pay me back for something. I just want you to do what you feel most comfortable, what you feel safest doing.

Chat Noir, what do you want?”

Chat Noir looked momentarily stunned.

He swallowed thickly. “I- I want to stay here for a little bit. If that’s okay with you!” he added hastily. “I don’t think I can get back home right now and… and I don’t really want to.” His ears turned backwards, flattening against his head.

“Are you okay with me touching you?” Adrien asked.

Chat Noir nodded.

Adrien sat down on the bed. Chat Noir leaned into him, Adrien stroking his head, like his mom used to do with him when he was little.

His mom couldn’t scratch him behind his cat ears though, on account of not having them.

...most of the time.

(He’d always had a thing about cats.)

They stayed there for the next several hours, Adrien checking up on Chat Noir regularly, making sure he was okay with the close proximity, asking whether he’d like food or drink, just… taking care of him, while making it as clear as he possibly could that Chat could ask for things, that Adrien WANTED him to ask for things, and that he wouldn’t force his will on Chat Noir.

At last, the heat dissipated to the point that Chat Noir could get up. Could walk around.

Chat Noir looked out the window longingly, then back at Adrien.

Adrien smiled at him. “It’s time for you to go, I’m guessing?”

Chat Noir hesitated, then gave a short, sharp nod.

“Then go.”

Chat turned around to leave, but hesitated, looking back at him, an unspoken question in his eyes.

“If you ever need to come by again, for cuddles or support or just… just because you want to? Please, please come,” Adrien told Chat. “Just check to make sure my father isn’t around first, alright?”

Chat Noir laughed, pole-vaulting into the night.

#adrichat #ml fanfic #adrien agreste #omegaverse #alpha/beta/omega verse

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red-the-dragon-writes · 3 years ago

Text

Word search game! Tagged by @wizardfromthesea

My words are Cold, Sharp, Bright and Deep.

Cold: From Soundwave: Committed, a Transformers fanfic

They’d claimed Megatron would destroy Cybertron. Well, Cybertron had been an ice-cold sunless wreck for the last thousand years, and didn’t look to be changing any time soon. Autobots, in the end, had done that, but Megatron had been the catalyst. They had claimed Megatron would bring an end to the worship of the Prime, and he had led half of their race in open rebellion against him. They’d claimed he would be the end of peace, and comfort, and he was. And so were they, because they had fought back, but they had always known that would be how it was.

Sharp: From the same.

He did not know that the Cause, as it was, now, was a Cause he would have joined had he been on the sidelines. It was different. It was harder, crueler. But the world was hard and cruel, and finally they were making headway; so he might have. He didn’t know. But for the first time, it seemed like they really had a shot at winning. Megatron had said that they would tear down the Senate, early on. Now he spoke of crushing the entirety of the old rule, pulverizing it to dust between his heavy claws. He spoke and the people answered with roaring cheers and appreciation. He spoke and the people of Cybertron roared. And it was working; they were gaining ground, faster and faster, now, and the Senate was being forced back. Sentinel Prime was growing madder and madder; the noble families built ships and strongholds in plain sight. And they had cities, now, whole cities they’d overtaken and were holding, though it was too soon to say that that would hold. But Megatron’s Cause was sharper, harsher. There was no room for the weak. The quiet. The meek. The things that Soundwave had signed up for, they were succeeding at; he was here to burn down the last holds of Functionism. But he could see that the Decepticons were leaving people behind. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

Bright: From an as-yet-unnamed, in-progress Transformers fic about Megatron and Optimus fighting but like over A Long Time

Optimus Prime had been near the back, not fighting. He’d come to lead from the front, just like Megatron, but neither of them had had the experience yet, here. The war had only been raging in earnest for maybe two groons. Tensions had been up for ages, of course, and they’d carried out a few bombings, sure, but open hostilities, armies meeting on the battlefield to rend and tear each other to pieces and the sky clouded black with smoke, that had been very, very new. Megatron got lost in it, and Optimus found himself hiding from it. And somehow Megatron had let himself be led away from the fray. Now he was wandering, lost, a little confused, looking for people he could see weren’t his so he could go back to the fight. For all that the air smelled of energon and burnt metal, and he could hear screaming and cannon blasts going in the background, it almost felt like the late night at the tail end of one of those roaring Kaonite block parties, after most everyone had gone home and all that were left were the scraps of food wrappers and empty high-grade bottles in the streets and vaguely overcharged gladiators and streetmechs wandering around looking for something to do before they passed out in a corner somewhere. Megatron had always enjoyed those. How different it was, and how similar all the same. But littering the streets were pieces of armor, twisted and burnt; and it wasn’t engex puddling in the little ditches at the sides of the road. He’d seen them set up in a dark building by lamplight. Red paints gleaming, clean and bright, nicer than Megatron’s Decepticons ever really looked; medics’ crosses adorning their pauldrons and wings. At this distance he couldn’t see the red badges on their chests, but he knew they would be there. Somehow he’d gotten separated all the way behind the Autobots’ front lines.

Deep: From a kind of very mean OC-in-canon TMA fic i am writing for fun. for myself. it is probably not terribly fun for anyone else. sorry for the fucking wall of text here but it doesnt make any damn sense unless i have that context and the word doesn't appear anywhere else :|

The archivist was well upon the way to a nervous breakdown already. Haven didn’t care for him enough to bother pushing him over the edge. He didn’t care for the archivist at all. He had, grudgingly, admitted a sense of similarity with the man, as he also berated and stalked his subordinates, and he also obsessed over information and filing, and he also seemed to be abrasive and foolish and without a healthy sense of respect for that which outclassed him. Haven was pleased to note that the archivist and the archivist’s assistants were stupider than him, though; he would hate to be within their intellectual weight class. He was tangentially aware of the demons that stalked what they were researching; it was a shame, for those in the research facility, that they had not paid greater attention to that which was not part and parcel of the dealings of those demons. He had heard, from a source, that the only stories that this archivist believed had a morsel of truth to them were the ones that did not record; he had not heard that this archivist had ever learned that there were far better, less obtrusive, ways to vanish information. And the archivist never quite seemed to believe those whose credibility was called into question, unless there was that obvious calling card behind it. Not only had Haven slipped beneath the archivist’s radar, he had so thoroughly escaped it as to make himself invisible to the man, even as he trode the same roads he walked. Frequented the same buildings. Did his foul work in the same air as the archivist attempted to do his. When he finally decided to reveal himself to the archivist, all he needed do was walk directly into the archives and sit down. Not one of them had succeeded in keeping themselves protected from outside influences for very long, and so he had had ample opportunity to get to them and make himself invisible. As such he could walk through the archives like a spectre. His footsteps, imperceptible, his very breath silent to their ears. And all the while, unharassed, he could do whatever the hell he liked, touch whatever the hell he wanted, and take whatever the hell he wanted to take from their poorly maintained, poorly labeled, poorly organized collection of records and nonsense paraphernalia. And other things, besides. It was not terribly long after the incursions of the worms caused by the demon that associated itself with the hives that Haven chose to finally drop the bullshit. He deposited himself upon the rickety chair that sat behind the archivist’s desk while the archivist was still away at lunch, and there he waited for the archivist to return. To his credit, though Haven was rather enjoying not giving the archivist any credit, the archivist did not seem terribly alarmed when he saw Haven sitting in his chair. It was deeply unlikely he mistook Haven for a member of the facility, given that Haven had made no effort to appear as such. Regardless, the archivist merely paused in the doorway for a moment before coming to sit at the opposite chair at the desk.

Since I'm still catching up on my tags, this is an open tag! if you choose to play, your words are mold, rust, decay and rot. :D

#not to give the grimmest word set ever but its 2:10 in the morning and i just need something i can slam the fuck out #i need to be asleep three hours ago #XDDDD #tag game #last line #my writing

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kmomof4 · 4 years ago

Note

For the fic-writer meme: all of them! 😁 and if you wanna pick five to ask Hollye, I’ll ask the other five lol 😂😘

HAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!! Our secret is out!!! Yes, @hollyethecurious you were right! We conspired to get you to answer all 10 of the questions!!! There is more than one way to de-fur a feline, dontcha know! 😁

Anywho... Hollye also asked for #6, and @snowbellewells asked for 5, 7, 8, and 10.

I’m sorry it took me so long to get to these. It’s been a busy week and I really had to think about some of these! But without further ado, here we go! Under the cut, unless Tumblr ate it.

1. What’s your personal favorite thing you wrote this year?

My personal favorite fic I wrote this year is a tie between Of Darkness, Vampires, and Soulmates, The Moon... Tells the Sea, and State of Emergency: Code White. The first two both written for last summers CSSNS. I don’t have to tell you, Kayla, how much I loved your artwork that inspired TMTtS, but that fic was just so EASY to write. Your artwork just told the whole story and all I had to do was write it down. I want to say that it only took me a couple of weeks to write, once I really sat down and started writing, in the midst of lockdown and the school year coming to a close. And then had to wait like 6wks or something to post it!!!! That was REALLY tough!!! ODVS is a favorite because I loved the premise so much and how hard it was to actually write it. I started working on it in earnest in November of last year, but didn’t finish it until April. I came dangerously close to giving up on it several times but @hollyethecurious and @profdanglaisstuff were the ones who made sure I didn’t. So just by sheer fact of what it took me to finish it makes it a favorite. And finally SoE: CW was a favorite because I wanted to write it for a year before I finally sat down to do it. And while it was hard in that it was entirely out of my own head, I was so happy with how it turned out.

2. What’s your least favorite thing you wrote this year?

Least favorite fic was probably Chosen, Protected, & Saved, written for the CS Movie Marathon. I wasn’t finished with it when my posting date came around, and so I feel like the ending floundered a bit. I wasn’t overly thrilled with it.

3. Which of your fics was most different from what you usually write?

I will have to say Of Darkness, Vampires, and Soulmates, linked above. Just about everything I had written up to that point was inspired and/or heavily influenced by some other type of media, either book, movie, or show canon. This was really the first fic that came entirely out of my own head. I don’t really count Arise, My Love because it was basically PWP, just with vampires. This was the first fully fleshed out and plot driven fic out of my own head. There we go, that’s better. It was also the darkest thing I had, and still have, ever written.

4. Which of your fics this year was most successful?

By kudos on ao3, The Moon... Tells the Sea, linked above, sitting at 75. I’m not gonna try and determine the most successful on Tumblr...

5. Which of your fics do you wish was more successful?

I wish that Of Darkness, Vampires, and Soulmates, linked above, had been more successful. Of all the fics I’ve written, that one was the hardest and took the longest to write. So I wish that more people had read and enjoyed it. But I also know that supernatural and vampire fics aren’t on a lot of folks “must read” lists, so I try to keep a balance between that wish and that knowledge.

6. What’s your favorite piece of dialogue you wrote this year?

Off the top of my head, I’d have to say this scene from Ch2 of Chosen, Protected, & Saved, linked above. This scene in the movie, The Golden Child, is what inspired the entire fic.

Emma and Killian somehow made it through customs with the dagger after arriving back in the States. The only thing they could figure was that since the dagger itself was magical, it was magically shielded from anyone but magic wielders. As they exited the arrivals gate, he startled when he spied the man from his dream, the Dark One, coming toward him followed by several Boston police officers. He sauntered towards them, making a show of the gold tipped cane he carried. He was dressed differently than in his dream with a long greatcoat, in what looked like crocodile skin. Killian felt a chill run down his spine. The coat matches his smile, he thought.

“That’s the man. Killian Jones. If he doesn’t return my property, I want him arrested.”

Killian’s heart raced. He drew Emma’s attention to their adversary as his mind furiously tried to figure out how to get out of the coming confrontation. An idea came to him suddenly and he elbowed Emma, whispering to her to let him do the talking.

“Welcome home, Mr. Jones. You have something for me?” he asked, holding out his hand with a smug smile on his face.

Killian stared into the face that he had only seen in a dream. He looked at Emma, naked fear on her face, at the cops behind the Dark One, and then back at the man or demon before him. He couldn’t help the smirk that broke over his face as he anticipated playing the Dark One like a fiddle.

“I’m sorry, Rumple,” he loudly lamented, reaching for the lapels of the man before him. The Dark One stared at him, utterly taken aback. It only took a moment however, before his face grew red with extreme irritation as Killian released him and turned toward the crowded terminal. “Everyone,” he shouted, drawing the attention of all the people hurrying to catch their flights, “I should be punished. I have stolen from my brother, Rumple.” The Dark One’s jaw clenched with annoyance as Killian continued with his theatrics. Emma looked at him as if he’d lost his mind. “Officer,” he continued, pointing at the officers behind the Dark One, “It is your duty to take me in. Please,” he moved toward them holding his wrists out in front of himself, “I am ashamed of myself. I should be arrested.” He walked down the line of officers. “I should be flogged. I don’t deserve to walk among free men.”

Killian repeated his tirade until the Dark One grabbed his arm, motioning toward the officers in a placating manner. “Let me have a word with him, please.”

Killian felt himself being pulled away from the officers, so he turned his attention to Emma and raised his voice once again.

“Emma, I am a swine. You must know what kind of man I am, before we go any further in our dalliance. I am a wretch. I don’t deserve to live.” He winked at her and saw her fear and confusion morph into reluctant amusement. She shook her head as the corner of her mouth lifted in half a smile. He finally turned toward the furious Dark One before him.

“How long do you think you can keep up this miserable masquerade?” he hissed, his eyes blazing with his wrath.

“Well, until I get arrested.” He grinned cockily at him. “Or until you realize the rules of evidence in this country.” The Dark One raised his head slightly and Killian could just see a trace of unease in his eyes. He turned serious. “See, if I get arrested, they take me and put me in a jail cell. And then they take the knife, because it’s a stolen object, and they put that in a little room, and they put ‘Exhibit A,’ a little sticker that says ‘Exhibit A’ on it.” He mimed putting a sticker on something. “And the knife sits in a room and I sit in my room until the trial commences. And that can be anywhere from a month to a year. So if you get me arrested, there’s no telling when you will get your knife.” Killian broke into a wide grin at having the upper hand, thoroughly enjoying himself as he watched a vein pulse in the Dark One’s forehead. He could just imagine what the demon’s blood pressure was at this moment.

“You have no idea who I am, have you?” he sneered.

“Why, yes,” he exclaimed. “You’re my brother Rumple!” He let out an amused chuckle as the Dark One struggled to keep his rage under control. “Look, I know exactly who you are,” Killian’s eyes turned hard and his easy going smile disappeared, “Dark One.” The man before him nearly turned white in fury. Killian’s heart skipped a beat, but he plowed ahead, his own anger coming to the surface. “But, here’s the thing. I. Don’t. Care.” He punctuated each word with a poke to the demon’s chest. “I do care that you kidnapped Henry, though.”

“I could destroy you,” he snapped his fingers in the air, “just like that.”

Killian’s eyebrow raised in bored amusement. “Well, we’ll see about that.” He turned and looked back over at Emma and the officers still waiting off to the side. “Look, I am not going to be giving you this knife. And you do not want to get me arrested. And I will find Henry,” he sneered and snapped his fingers in the Dark One’s face, “just like that.” He patted the demon’s cheek. “See you soon.” He turned back toward the crowd, all smiles and held his arms out as if he wanted to embrace them all. “My brother has forgiven me! Emma, Brother Rumple has forgiven me!” He turned back to the seething Dark One and clapped him on the shoulder in an awkward embrace. “Dear Brother, thank you, thank you, thank you.” He then kissed him loudly on the cheek in a final taunt before releasing him and leading Emma into the crowd.

7. What’s your favorite piece of description or narration?

@searchingwardrobes betaed The Moon... Tells the Sea, linked above, and she told me that it was the most descriptive thing I’d ever written. That comment put me OVER THE MOON. And when I went back and read it the other day, I had to agree. I spent a lot of time describing the woods, Emma and Killian in their wolf forms, and just the general setting. It was so gratifying to hear that from a fellow author that I GREATLY admire and enjoy. I am also very proud of the Prologue of Chosen, Protected, & Saved, linked above, when I described Henry’s room before he is kidnapped.

8. Which fic this year was most fun to write?

I’d have to say that I had the most fun writing either The Moon... Tells the Sea, linked above, or the second chapter of Somewhere Out There. They were both relatively easy to write and I loved how they both turned out.

9. If you could go back and change something about one of the fics you wrote this year, what would it be?

I would change the circumstances around posting Chosen, Protected, and Saved and I’d probably work on the final battle more. I just wasn’t that happy with it.

10. What, if anything, are you going to try to do differently in your writing in the new year?

I’m gonna try and make more time to write. Since writing Chosen, Protected, & Saved, linked above, I’ve hardly written anything. I love reading and flailing more than anything so writing is very easy to set aside when I’ve got a lot of reading on my agenda, but I’m also bad about putting it on a back burner when RL comes calling. I think just setting the boundary of “I’m gonna write for one hour today” would go a long way toward keeping my mood up and help me get the fics I’ve got notes on in my docs actually written and posted. So we’ll see how that goes.

Thank you all for the asks @allons-y-to-hogwarts-713, @hollyethecurious, and @snowbellewells! Love y'all!!! 😘

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ficsandcatsandficsandcats · 5 years ago

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request: jaskier x reader enemies to lovers in which the reader is not a jealous asshole lmao

Fandom: The WitcherPairing: Jaskier x ReaderWord Count: 3,273Rating: TTaglist: @heroics-and-heartbreak @whatevermonkey @mynamesoundslikesherlock @magic-multicolored-miracle @writingstudent @mlleecrivaine @coffee-and-stories @ultracolorfulnerdcollection @astouract @your-not-invisible-to-me @kemmastan @mycat-is-mylove @amirahiddleston a/n: Hey! I am a sucker for an academic rivalry and that’s the way I approached this. It’s really long but I hope you enjoy!

You took a deep breath before entering the classroom, plastering on a serene, professional smile. There were more students present than usual which only rankled further, knowing they had come here to see him instead of your usual classes. He wasn’t there yet (typical) but you were grateful. Walking in to see so-called Professor Pankratz beating you to your own class would have been more than you could bear. Then again, he was never on time for class when you were students so luck had been on your side.

“Good morning class, so nice to see that so many of you have recovered for your many ailments and just in time for a presentation for our guest lecturer,” you said. The students chuckled sheepishly and you fixed them with an accusatory look that melted into a smile and a head shake. They were just kids. It hadn’t been terribly long ago you were in their shoes and there were many times you wished you could have jut run off and avoided your responsibilities like others you’d known. Right on cue, the door opened and in strode Julian Pankratz or – as he was known now – Jaskier.

He looked practically the same as he had back then. Chestnut hair shorter and roguishly swept to the side but the same hue, golden highlights catching in the sun that streamed through the large windows. Smile quirked into the exact same cocky little grin, sky blue eyes sparkling with amusement, always on the lookout for a good time. His clothing choices had become more ornate but the same good quality they’d always been, him and all the other nobility thinking nothing of the clothes they wore or the fact that a single doublet would pay for a semester of classes. As he caught your eye a familiar look of smugness came over his features and you bristled. You’d always been academic rivals. You didn’t usually care about someone being smarter than you, most were anyway, but someone who swanned into Oxenfurt Academy, resting on his family’s laurels and roving around missing classes yet still somehow managing to give you a run for your title as Valedictorian was another matter. On the rare occasions he did deign to show up to class he’d usually be half-hungover, lacking all supplies, and yet teacher’s stopped calling on him to make an example because he’d always know the answer. Good answers, too. So no, you didn’t hate Julian because he was smart or handsome or well-liked or even because he was your fiercest competition in school. You hated him because he was all of these things and didn’t work for any of it and didn’t seem to appreciate its value. This position you held as a professor at a university that had been an impossible sounding dream for a child who grew up in poverty meant everything to you. But for Julian, it was just another honor bestowed on him. Hell, he was invited to teach today.

“Ah, Julian, right off time,” you said dryly.

“Professor Pankratz I think it is, Y/N,” he replied. You bristled and bit back a litany of oaths.

“As I was telling the students, Julian, you are here today to provide a guest lecture and if anyone has questions-” two dozen arms shot up in the sky eagerly, “They will wait under after the lesson.”

The arms retracted glumly but the students lit up as you stepped aside, giving the bard a space at the podium.

“Thank you, Y/N. You know, your professor and I go way back. We were school chums just like you. She’s always been incredibly smart. I mean, the record may show that she never could quite top me but she still gave me a good run,” he winked at you as he said the words and then gave you a wicked smile, like a child who knew they were being bad in public and didn’t care what would happen when they got home. You kept the same serene smile on your face like a mask and you spent the next hour and a half of his talk imagining the different ways you would use the historical tools of torture display in the history wing to wipe that smug smile off of his face.

—–

After the lecture (which was exceptional, damn it) Julian suggested the question and answer portion be done outside because it was “such a lovely day” and you “probably wanted to review your notes over his lecture to include in the class’s curricula” and they poured out of your class leaving you in blessed silence. You had to admit you appreciated the extra time to prepare for tomorrow’s class. You finished grading and even had time to clean the chalkboard thoroughly. You were gazing at it in admiration of a job well done when a voice popped up by the open door.

“Admit it, that was brilliant.”

Suddenly your good mood vanished. You cut Jaskier a sharp glance from the corner of your eye.

“The students aren’t here anymore Julian you don’t need to stick around,” you said coolly.

“Oh I know,” he replied, moving into the room further, “I thought I’d ask an old friend for a drink. Catch up properly since I’m in town.”

You scoffed and shook your head, turning to face him.

“We’re not friends, Julian. We never were and I don’t see why we would be now,” you said bluntly. He smiled at your words, not an unpleasant or false one, a genuine, nostalgic smile.

“Gods I’ve missed the way you never put up with my shit,” he said. You blinked at him in surprise.

“What?”

“Everyone else was impressed by the Pankratz name and my other, admittedly many, charms but you always saw through it. I think that’s why I tried to impress you so much. Hell, maybe it’s why I’m still trying,” he said.

“I thought you hated me, you were always a prick. And don’t try that stupid ‘boys torment girls they like’ bullshit with me because that’s bollocks at best and dangerous at worst,” you argued. He smirked.

“Oh no, you were a bitch. You kind of still are. But I’ve grown to develop an affection for bitches.”

“Get fucked, Pankratz.”

“Ooh not as eloquent as you were back in the day. What was it you called me that one time? As stupid as an ox and half as useful?” he quoted. You smiled in appreciation of your younger self’s burn.

“Come have a drink with me,” he offered again. Despite yourself, you were curious about what Julian had been up to. Sure you heard the rumors and the songs and knew he was a celebrity. But you also knew that the stories you heard about people rarely matched the truth and perhaps with enough ale and the right questions you’d get somewhere close to that.

“You’re paying,” you said, taking up your purse and getting out the key to lock the classroom.

“But of course,” Jaskier said in faux surprise, “What kind of a gentleman would I be if I didn’t treat the lady to drinks?”

For the sake of peace, you bit your tongue.

—–

“Alright,” Jaskier said once you’d both ordered your drinks, “Let’s get this out of the way. Ask me about Geralt.”

“The witcher?” you asked. Jaskier nodded, a weary nod that suggested he’d had this talk many, many times before. “I don’t really have any questions.”

Jaskier eyed you suspiciously, disbelief plain on his face but you weren’t kidding. You knew about witchers, had read many different accounts from believe who head varying levels of respect and fear towards them, but you didn’t really concern yourself with them. As far as you could tell their primary trade was killing monsters and you weren’t one so you doubted you’d have any dealings with them.

“People usually want to know what he’s like, if he has horns, does he eat babies, etc.,” Jaskier explained.

“Well those people sound… ill-informed,” you said tactfully, “I do have questions though. Not about Geralt, about you.”

“Me?” Jaskier sounded surprised.

“Of course. A classmate goes off and becomes a renowned bard and you don’t think I’m going to have questions?” you asked.

“You never showed much interest in my life or affairs before.”

“I didn’t have to hear about some new rumor about you every day from students before. Well, actually I guess I did. But there were fewer rumors of immortality and frankly based on how you look I’m starting to think those might be right,” you said, taking a sip of your mead and giving him an assessing look. He laughed and took a drink from his ale.

“Not as far as I know, no,” he said.

“But the rest is true, then? Touring the country, the bard with his pet witcher, wooing and rutting around the countryside with great aplomb?”

Jaskier smiled ruefully as he looked down into his drink, thinking about the portrait you painted of him, that had been painted while he was off. He could lie and tell you it was true but he had a feeling you’d know. As he’d said, you always saw through his bullshit.

“Quite the opposite, really. True my songs are well loved and I have successfully reformed many opinions about Geralt, if not witchers on the whole, but I am more often treated as the “pet” of Geralt. The human that follows him around. It’s… not entirely wrong but it’s also horseshit, you know?”

You were surprised by the vulnerability. This wasn’t the proud, blustering Julian of a decade ago. He was still there but there was also a maturity to him. It was deeply unsettling.

“That must be hard for you. You never did like standing in another’s shadow,” you said.

“I have little experience doing so. You understand,” he volleyed. You glowered at him as you took another drink. Yes, some things were still the same.

“And adventuring? How is that suiting you? You a natural at that as you were everything else?” you asked, a bit of bitterness slipping into your tone.

“Gods no,” he said laughing, “No I am… well, I’m better than I was, but I’ve also nearly died more times than I can count so that doesn’t speak to a great amount of skill.”

You felt a little guilty about how validating it was to hear Jaskier state that there was finally something even he couldn’t fake his way through.

“That must be very difficult,” you said, working to keep the satisfaction out of your voice, “Finding the one thing is this world you aren’t naturally adept at without any effort or work.”

“I worked, Y/N,” Jaskier replied, frowning at the implication, “I wrote the same papers you did.”

“Yes, but yours were written 15 minutes before class or turned into an improvised ballad performed on the spot and mine were toiled over for hours in the library and edited mercilessly. We are not the same,” you argued.

“Do you want me to apologize for being naturally talented?” he asked. You scoffed and shook your head, fighting the urge to throw the remaining contents of your cup in his smug face.

“No, Julian, I want you to appreciate that you’re talented. I want you to stop acting like you’re somehow superior and I want you to stop getting everything you want handed to you because you’re from a titled family and famous and never had to really worry about taking care of yourself,” you snapped.

“You think people took care of me?” he replied incredulously, “Y/N my family didn’t give a shit about me. Hell, I don’t know if they even realized I was gone when I went to school. Even the people around me at the university, I knew they didn’t give a shit, they wouldn’t have my back or stick around if I wasn’t constantly making myself useful to them. And you think that’s somehow different now? The witcher barely tolerates my presence some days and I have to work hard to find ways to be useful because I know that if I stop, even for a moment, he will be gone too.”

After he finished he kicked himself for saying it, waiting for a look of pity from you as you listened to him complain. Or contempt because even he knew that it could be worse. But you just nodded slightly, a look of understanding dawning on your face.

“Well. You’re still an ass,” you said, taking a sip of your drink. A wide smile broke out over Jaskier’s face and you couldn’t help but return it. He had that effect on people. For once it didn’t seem self-serving, though, just genuine happiness.

“So is that what you’re doing with me?” you asked, serious again, “Trying to find a way to be useful or charm me so you’ll have a contact back in Oxenfurt?”

“When you put it that way I sound so self-serving,” he scoffed, “No, Y/N. Frankly I don’t need you as a contact. I was invited to lecture here and I seriously doubt you were the one did that.”

You didn’t say anything, glancing awkwardly down at your glass.

“Wait… no… surely not,” Jaskier squinted at you suspiciously and you heaved a great sigh.

“Fine, alright I did. But only because very begrudgingly I have to admit you know what you’re talking about and this segment is hard for students if they don’t care about what they’re studying and nothing makes students care like hearing it from someone new and exciting and oh for the gods’ sake if you don’t stop grinning at me like that I will kick you,” you snapped. Jaskier didn’t heed your warnings, the grin overtaking his face and this time you could resist the pull to smile back. You crossed your arms in front of you in a huff, waiting for him to throw it back in your face, to make some snide remark about proof that he’s smarter than you after all.

“Thank you,” he said after a beat of silence. There was sincerity in his eyes, also unsettling, but also not a bad look on him. “I enjoyed it. I’ve missed the school, really.”

“I suppose it wasn’t the worst thing that’s ever happened in my classroom. Granted, someone was murdered there a few hundred years ago so the bar is pretty high for that honor,” you sighed. The rest of your evening passed quickly as you shared anecdotes and laughter. Before you knew it the tavern was closing and you were told to get a room or get out. Jaskier had shot you a suggestive smile but you’d rolled your eyes and told him he could walk you home.

“You know this is going to sound silly but I think… Well, I wish maybe we’d been friends in school,” you admitted, lips loosened by the mead and the newfound sense of comradery with the man walking at your side. He laughed, the sound turning to mist in the cool night air, and grinned at you.

“No, I don’t think so,” he said. Your face fell and you began to feel embarrassed.

“No, not because of you!” he explained quickly, “But I wasn’t really the sort of person I think you’d have liked back then. I mean, clearly, because you’ve harbored such a long hatred of me.”

“Hatred is a strong word,” you lied, “But you’re probably right. I could be a bit stuck up myself.”

“I’m glad that we’ve reconnected, though. Or I suppose, connected for the first time,” Jaskier said. You arrived at home sooner than you’d expected and you lingered at the door.

“How long are you in town?” you asked.

“I leave tomorrow.”

“Oh… with, uh, what’s his name?”

Jaskier beamed at you as though you’d just given him the finest compliment in his life. And in a way, you had. For once he wasn’t the one whose name was ignored and forgotten.

“Geralt. And yes, I told him I’d meet up with him. Onto the next adventure,” he explained. He was excited by the disappointment in your eyes, almost as excited as the fact that you weren’t yet going inside, perhaps even considering offering him an invite.

“If you want to come back sometime, to lecture and maybe get another drink with an old…” your voice trailed off as you tried to decide what to call what you were now.

“Colleague?”

“Friend?”

“Yes, alright, friend,” you assented, earning yet another wide, beaming smile from Jaskier, “I’d like that. If you have time. I know you’re very busy and important.”

You said the words sarcastically and Jaskier nodded and sighed heavily.

“It’s true, the world needs its songs. But I would be happy to come back again. And see you. And do my part to enlighten the youths of the world. And see you.”

“You said that twice.”

“I meant it doubly much.”

“Doubly much? That can’t be good grammar.”

“Gods, do you ever turn off?” he huffed in amused exasperation.

“Never, it’s one of my charms,” you replied, smirking. Jaskier moved closer and you were reminded of how tall he was. And broad. And handsome.

“I have half a mind to kiss that smirk right off your face,” he murmured, the pale blue eyes caressing them with his gaze.

“You have a half a mind period,” you sassed, a defensive reaction that struck when you were nervous. Most men were turned away by it, and you couldn’t blame them. But sparring was an old game for the two of you and Jaskier smiled, chuckling darkly before saying,

“Alright now you’re gonna get it.”

His lips brushed against yours, featherlight and teasing, and then swept back, a little firmer, capturing your mouth and pressing in closer, one arm wrapping around your waist and pressing you against the door as he slid his tongue through your slightly parted mouth. You sighed into the kiss and he gave a soft moan in return as your tongue found his, entangling and learning the warmth of each other’s mouths, the brush of teeth against lip, the taste of mead and ale blending in a heady mixture. By the time Jaskier pulled back you were both panting slightly. You swallowed hard and looked up into his eyes.

“Are you going to invite me in?” he asked, peppering your jawline with kisses. Your eyes squeezed shut and you licked your lips, summoning your will to be sensible.

“No,” you replied. His kisses stop and he pulled back to look at you, unabashedly surprised.

“No?”

“No,” you answered, “Go on your journeys, Julian Pankratz or Jaskier de Lettenhove or whoever you are or shall be. Go and then return to me. If you can do that, well… Perhaps.”

“I may die,” he intoned dramatically, though he made no move to continue his seduction, taking your words to heart.

“Then there shall be two great tragedies that day,” you answered in a tone that was just as dramatic, “That you have died, and that you never knew the pleasures of my body.”

He laughed, throwing his head back and then leaning in to plant another kiss on your lips.

“You’re a minx. But alright, it’s a date,” he said. You bit your bottom lip, fighting back an argument that it could only really be a date if they both declared it to be and really they had just agreed to meet up as friends but sometimes even you had to admit there was a time and place for being pedantic.

“It’s a date.”

#Anonymous #jaskier x reader #jaskier drabble #jaskier fluff #jaskier angst #reader request #jaskier imagines

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