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punkscowardschampions · 1 year ago

Text

Java Pt.1

Ava: Teddy has your journal

Ava: I don’t know how but he sent a page to me, in case I could decode it, I didn’t, of course

Ava: She knows, except neither of them knows what any of it means, that’s something…

Ava: I’m so sorry, James, tell me you’re okay when you can, please?

James: [Obviously not replying until after this screaming match has occurred and Chlo has to take herself off to bed like an invalid, god knows how long said public argument went on for]

James: I’m sorry, that must have been an alarming message to receive

Ava: I thought he had worked it out, my name, or something

Ava: I’m almost entirely certain he hasn’t, he wouldn’t be able to bluff that convincingly

Ava: How are you, as ridiculous as it feels to ask

James: Yes, I would’ve liked to warn you, but I was rather tied up and opportunely his inability to comprehend any of what he read quickly became apparent

Ava: What’s going to happen now?

James: In the immediate aftermath of our drawn out confrontation, she has gone to bed exhausted, a response I can’t fault, feeling similar myself

Ava: That doesn’t seem like the worst idea

James: Tomorrow, I don’t know

Ava: You can’t possibly know, predict any of this

Ava: Is Jay okay?

James: She’s picked up on the lingering tension, unavoidably, but she didn’t witness anything, as opposed to everyone else here

Ava: I’m glad that she didn’t, it is bad enough that you had to be part of the spectacle

Ava: Do you want me to go away, or is there anything else I can do for you?

James: Please don’t, my family are predictably inebriated and the conversation I attempted with my marginally more sensible sister didn’t exactly leave me with the ally I hoped for

Ava: She can’t be on your wife’s side though, surely?

James: No, but she is my father’s, and they are inclined to hold fast to the, admittedly not untrue, belief that it’s my mess and sympathy is therefore limited

Ava: The mess, like the marriage, takes two

James: Yes, but their willingness to vilify her for her part in things doesn’t help me rectify them, I’ve been trying to make her understand that our separation doesn’t mean I’ll abandon her entirely and a witch hunt led by my relatives somewhat contradicts that

Ava: I see your dilemma

James: Perhaps I’m wasting my breath, having given her an ultimatum when she was issuing her threats which hardly lends credibility to those attempts to keep the situation civil

Ava: Or perhaps you can apologise, and undoubtedly she said things she could also apologise for

Ava: I think you should leave, you and her, as you can’t really make everyone else leave you without people having opinions on the politeness of that

Ava: Show you intend to work it out between you and not an entire jury panel

James: She refuses, nonetheless, you’re right, if I grovel suitably there’s the smallest chance she may reconsider

Ava: She’s going to sleep on it, the reaction has to be less explosive by default in the morning

James: All I can do is continue to try

Ava: Precisely, and I think removing the family element will make her feel protected, prioritised…

Ava: and I think I should actually let you do that, without any interference

James: I can’t insist you go against what your instincts and good judgment are telling you to do when I scarcely trust my own in either case

Ava: I can’t make this any harder for you, however painful it is for me, it could be so much worse for you

James: You’re the lone person making it any easier, but I’m aware, too, I shouldn’t be saying so

Ava: I don’t want to do this

Ava: but I want your separation to work, for it to be as good as it can be, for you all

Ava: Me being in the picture jeopardises that chance for you

James: It isn’t your fault, we’re sabotaged by my wife’s fixation upon how the situation may look in place of how she or I feel

Ava: I wouldn’t expect anything less than loathing of me from her

James: An amicable split was always a reach, but I foolishly endeavoured to suggest the possibility, because of my desperation to escape the alternative, the blame lands squarely at my feet, not yours

Ava: Maybe not, not if you stay for now, until she feels it’s her decision, or, mostly hers but still enough to do it

James: I already promised to, whilst I was still capable of conducting myself relatively calmly, allowing her time to decide the story she wishes to concoct, as that’s all she cares about, coming out of this whole sorry saga well, or as well as can be expected

Ava: Well, stories are your forte

Ava: Can you help her?

James: I don’t know

Ava: There’s no rush, you’ve told the truth

James: I haven’t, not about you

Ava: You’ve done it before, it doesn’t matter who I am

James: It does to me

Ava: James

James: I didn’t mean to betray you, for today to proceed as it has, I wouldn’t have forced the conversation, allowed it occur in this moment or location, if my hand hadn’t been by Teddy’s antics

Ava: You didn’t betray me, it was him, and I couldn’t say anything, not enough

James: I should’ve acted otherwise, as usual

James: Gia isn’t wrong, my entire life is comprised of a litany of mistakes

Ava: You couldn’t have done anything else, nor more, not in this situation

James: Am I making another by demanding that you stay?

Ava: I don’t know how to answer that

James: The answer I have is that I’d beg, go against your valid points, against all reason, in fact, without hesitation

James: because you do matter to me, I told her the first time my brother stirred the pot after your birthday party, I don’t have a guilty conscience, and I truly do not

Ava: I don’t think I can untangle myself from this now either, from you

Ava: That might sound ridiculous, in comparison to your real potential separation but I truly mean it, the dread I feel at having to begin is unbearably real

James: It sounds like an echo of how I feel

James: I’d repeat these actions, ours, tenfold

James: more than that, I’d begin us over and over again

Ava: I won’t go, I can’t

Ava: I’ll do everything else I can not to complicate things but I have to stay

James: It’s me putting you in unthinkable positions and I hate myself for that, acutely

Ava: Please don’t, I wanted this as much as you, I still do

James: It clearly isn’t wise for your association with Teddy to carry on, which is yet another thing I feel awful for having to bluntly state

Ava: No, you’re right

Ava: He hasn’t intentionally done this to me but he has to you, and I don’t believe he wouldn’t continue so

Ava: He isn’t all that interested in being my friend, it shouldn’t be that hard

James: I’m upset not to have the slightest indication of when and how he became this callous

Ava: I won’t attempt any excuses or reasoning on his behalf

Ava: Sometimes I don’t think he sees the seriousness, other times, I’m not so sure

James: Granted, my sister’s often cold indifference should have prepared me, but it’s different with him, his active delight at participating in the torment of people close to him, there isn’t an adjustment I know how to, or was ready to make in order to accommodate such a nature

Ava: I know what you mean, I have witnessed it too, on a lesser scale perhaps but still, it does ring true

Ava: If he was always like it, it would be easier for you to write him off

James: He’s too young to be written off, as I was

James: but to feel so unsupported has been challenging, the day has been a bleak one, and I supposed, absurdly in hindsight, as we got older we’d provide a measure of it where our parents seemingly won’t

Ava: I don’t think that’s an unreasonable thing to imagine, definitely not to want

Ava: I’m sorry, that it didn’t work out that way, that you’ve felt so alone with it all

James: I know better, still I also want better, for all of us, nevertheless

Ava: If there’s nothing else to do, all that’s left is hope, right

Ava: The disappointment can’t be as bad as giving up feels

James: Agreed, giving up is inconceivable and would be unforgivable

Ava: but I do know, how tempting it can be, I have my own sibling issues that are, somehow, not all too dissimilar to the ones you’re describing so

James: I can’t help yearning for a rewrite in which I exited the car with you and holed up, or we fled in search of a wanted holiday, the three of us, however temporary the fix and unproductive the solution

Ava: It feels so much worse now, you being there, that there’s no quick way to you when you need me

James: I’m most afraid I’ll drink once she and I commit to remaining here alone, she goads me to, prefers the person I am when I indulge and the life we shared before which I barely recall

James: I thought I could explain to Gia and she simply reminded me of the expense as a deterrent

Ava: If you gave her everything she wanted, then this wouldn’t be a separation, things have to change, you have your principles and things you aren’t willing to compromise on

Ava: I know you can do this

James: Everything is tenuous and then there’s you

James: I couldn’t do this if you weren’t with me, Ava

Ava: It doesn’t scare me, for you to ask me to stay

James: I need you, as you said

Ava: I want to be a constant, for you

James: I’m sorry I’m in the state that I am

Ava: I’m sorry for what today became for you

Ava: Do you think you’ll be able to sleep, you said you were exhausted

James: No, if Jay had her own room I’d sleep there but she’s with her grandparents

Ava: Let’s think then

Ava: Is there some kind of indoor pool, you could snooze on a sun lounger

James: I’ll pretend I’m [a character in a book, idk, I’m sure it or something similar has happened]

Ava: Were you swimming when he got the book?

Ava: That was the only scenario I could imagine when I was going over and over it

James: Yes, in light of what happened as a result I may never venture into a pool again though

Ava: It’s such a violation, those are your private thoughts, I’m so angry

James: At least they have been kept private

Ava: Only by your incredible foresight

James: It throws a devious light upon my habits, but I promise I haven’t written novels about each affair

Ava: It’s okay if you have

James: Be that as it may, it’s a new creative pursuit

James: rediscovered from when I was a small child, one could argue, but I certainly didn’t write romance stories at that age

Ava: You have to tell me what you did write about, it’s too adorable

James: I had a pet hamster for a time, he featured heavily

James: rugby, of course, when I wanted to be a star player as previously mentioned

Ava: Did the two ever crossover, hamster rugby could be a whole thing

Ava: that is rugby for and played by hamsters, I’m not a sadist

James: They did, I’ll have to scour my parents’ attic as additional bedtime reading for you

Ava: I don’t know if I’ll survive

James: Please find a way to, you’re extremely important, and not just for further plot of my current book

Ava: I’ll try my best but you are very, very sweet

James: Talk to me about your [the bookshop] adventure, there’s a reason to live

Ava: Yes, luckily I did complete that mission before the world was momentarily turned upside down or I would have horrified even the people on the tube, I think

Ava: [tell him all about it, nerd out]

James: [be a nerd back because you both need this reprieve from the drama]

Ava: Oh I miss you

Ava: I bet it’s nice and warm in there though, like sleeping in a greenhouse

James: Your balcony is my nearest approximate exposure to how I imagine stepping into a greenhouse would be

Ava: When it’s warm here, we can sleep out there, we’ll not need a blanket

James: Summer will arrive soon

James: Would you be warm enough with a blanket, sleeping out now?

Ava: Yes

Ava: and Frank is like a hot water bottle

James: How is he?

James: I fear I may be forced to relent on my daughter having a puppy after all

Ava: I’ve given him so many treats whilst you’ve been away, he is benefitting from my love having no other outlet

James: Oh, I’m happy to hear someone is

Ava: But I think he misses you too, though he’s sworn to secrecy

James: I’ll have to bring him a thank you gift, for looking after you as devotedly as he has

Ava: If you wanted, you and Jay could take him for walks, to let her get an understanding of having a puppy before you commit

James: You’re incredibly thoughtful

Ava: It sounded a bit like I already can’t be bothered to walk him myself

Ava: but I assure you, my own dedication hasn’t waned

James: I would never doubt you, my darling

Ava: [send him a selfie from your balcony ft the blanket and this pup]

James: [send her one back of this toll boy on his sun lounger]

Ava: It’s so comforting to see your face

James: [send her a voice note, which is just you being a nerd and saying hello to her and Frank basically so she can hear your voice too because we all know them falling asleep on the phone together the way they used to OG is coming, but for now]

Ava: [send him a video back of this pup listening and doing the head tilt thing when they’re like HEWWO because adorable and isn’t just you screaming ILY so we gotta]

James: She’ll be too excited to walk, I’m under no illusion, I’ll end up carrying them both

Ava: I might have to come and give you a hand then

James: You’re always welcome

Ava: I didn’t know, if that would be okay

James: To quote you, as I am want to do when you’re being brilliant, things have to change

Ava: You flatter me, I don’t deserve it

James: You deserve more compliments than I have the time or energy to pen

Ava: You certainly looked quite cosy

Ava: I should be telling you a story tonight, I think

James: As did you, I’m pleased he has a good listening face for the barrage of questions he’ll be asked during his first walk

James: Oh, will we fight for the honour of storytelling?

Ava: He’s nothing if not a fabulous listener, I didn’t intend for him to be my captive audience but I fear he may be

Ava: We could but fighting with you is just the last thing I ever want to do

James: Naturally he’s a good boy, you’re his owner

James: Do you really want to read to me or be read to? I haven’t forgotten I owe you tonight’s chapter of [what they are reading] but I’m unopposed to you taking a turn if it’ll make you happy

Ava: I only want to make you happy, you do so much for me, I feel so spoiled

James: What you’ve done and how you make me feel is impossible to put into words, it’s going to forever elude me, I know it

Ava: I feel kinda tongue-tied now too

James: It’s okay, we can both read, I’ll go first

Ava: I do prefer it when you take the lead

James: [write her a little dancing scene because you can hear music coming from somewhere and you’re in love rn so gotta bring the peak romance with a what if]

Ava: [read this back to him, even though he said he’d go first, you simply gotta because it killed you and you need to be like LOOK WHAT YOU DID]

James: I’m sorry, I can’t go to sleep yet

Ava: I’m not going without you

James: Just to [another bookshop like he’s giving her a clue for this book hunt] and back

Ava: One step closer

James: Another day endured

Ava: But what a day

Ava: how you’ve not passed out is beyond me

James: I had to spend time with you

Ava: I am beyond grateful, I thought you might stop talking to me, fairly so

James: No, you’re mine and these moments are ours, albeit snatched and hurried too frequently

Ava: I was just scared, that you may need to

Ava: but you’re here and I’m here

James: I’m deeply sorry Teddy frightened you with his theft and the subsequent events stopped me from quieting said anxiety as fast as would have chosen to, had I been offered a choice

Ava: You’re a good person, do you know that

James: My heart breaks at the idea of you upset, that’s all

Ava: I promise I can handle it

James: You’re a brave and resilient person

Ava: You might just be my favourite person

James: May I? If you’d allow me to be, I think I’d be content with that

Ava: There aren’t any other contenders but I only want it to be you, no matter what

James: Thank you for bestowing upon me a future I sincerely look forward to experiencing

Ava: Do you believe that things can change, that it will work?

James: I have no faith in her, but I do in us

Ava: That’s enough

Ava: I won’t let you live life only in stolen moments, it isn’t good enough for you

James: It won’t be like this indefinitely, which is so much more than I once dared to consider possible

Ava: [write him a lil what if that is basically how you imagine his life and is him getting to do all the things he wants and actually being happy]

James: Ava

Ava: I can picture it so easily

James: You’re ever that vivid, I understand

Ava: I can feel your arms around me now, if I concentrate

James: And my watch proves any moment is capable of lasting beyond itself, to linger until we’re reunited

Ava: Exactly

Ava: alone feels less lonely, you exist in so many places my senses can comfort themselves, you are my constant too now

James: [tell her about how whatever trinket she gave you from her bedroom has moved from where you were keeping it on your desk at work while you were there hating it to being with you on this holiday, in a more poetic and extra manner but that’s the gist]

Ava: Oh

Ava: a piece of me being there brings me such an intense feeling of comfort, my head is reeling

James: It feels reckless with the fate of my notebook what it was, but I made the decision prior, and I’m not sorry I did

Ava: It could be worse, I had intended to gift you my underwear but that didn’t feel appropriate as work colleagues

James: [ofc writing a what if for if she could have though, because we all know how feral he’d be being with them rn if she had, much like when he took that pair to work that time to get through it, but even more so because the feels are even higher and he is essentially alone on this sun lounger at this o clock clearly with less chill needed than at his office]

Ava: Around the time you had fucked my ankles behind my head was when I realised my error in logic, definitely

Ava: now the only reason to wear any is to have something to present to you

James: My impatiently awaited homecoming will be faultless, yes

James: you and I have both fervently learned lessons

Ava: You won’t ever want to leave me behind again

Ava: Deciding whether to drop my pants or to my knees first is going to be a tough decision

James: Let me help you

James: [write both of these scenarios for her, as if that won’t just make it harder to decide lol]

Ava: James

James: You have my permission for either, for anything

Ava: I’m thinking about the positions a sun lounger affords us, that’s what I’m picturing now

James: [again write about it, this boy is on a roll, and we’re all buzzing Teddy can’t read this the sneaky rat]

Ava: It can be just like in the car

Ava: but you’re coming back to me

James: Yes

Ava: I want you home

James: A home with you is all I want

Ava: Do you mean that

James: Completely

Ava: Being a recluse has never sounded more heavenly, wow

James: I swear I’ll free you on occasion

Ava: Just take me those unavoidable places you have to go that aren’t our home

James: The absolutely perfect office paperweight, your body on my desk

Ava: Yours, to admire or play with until it’s a quivering mess that begs for you

James: An ideal stress ball too

Ava: I want to feel it, to take on the pressure and absorb it, be so used and useful for you

James: Can you take all of it?

Ava: You know I can, you taught me

James: You’re a pleasure to teach

Ava: You’re a very good teacher

James: [asking her a revision question, how they do]?

Ava: That’s not fair, sir

James: Have you been neglecting your revision?

Ava: It’s just been hard to concentrate

James: Perhaps, but there are people you’d like to make proud, aren’t there?

Ava: Yes, very much

Ava: I’ll try harder, I promise

James: [asking her the question again like okay go on]?

Ava: [give your best answer after having clearly thought about it and truly done your best here and now]

James: I knew you could do it

Ava: Are you proud of me, sir?

James: You’re top of my class

Ava: then I’m proud of myself

James: As you should be, you’re going to have a bright future and achieve a lot of great things

Ava: I couldn’t do it without you, you push me to be better

James: You could but you never need to

Ava: I need your encouragement

James: You earn it

Ava: I can do anything if it means I earn your approval

James: You’re capable of an extraordinary amount

Ava: You can’t believe it either, how I’ve blossomed under your tutelage

James: I recognised your potential immediately, from the moment I first saw you, remember?

Ava: I’ll never forget

Ava: I wanted you to take me, uncover every hidden depth, mould me into the woman I want to be, the one you need

James: You have the most unmarred beauty, irrespective of how deep I go

Ava: Nothing is out of bounds for you, you know I want more, I want you to see everything

James: You’ve claimed that word, I don’t hear it in any voice but yours

Ava: I can’t pretend I’m sorry about that

James: No apologies

Ava: I don’t think I’ll be satisfied until you’ve claimed and charted every inch of me, even then

James: Every inch of you is mine already and you definitely aren’t

Ava: No apologies?

James: None

Ava: You can ask me another, I’m ready this time

James: [do, clearly a harder question]?

Ava: [we still gotta slay, I’m afraid, we have been revising, until this latest drama, unlike some people]

James: Good girl, it’s apparent you’ve worked diligently and will reap every reward

Ava: Yours, always

Ava: You know how devoted I am, don’t you?

James: I’d struggle to question your passion even as a shameless ruse to praise you anew

Ava: I’ve never met anyone as encouraging as you, it makes me feel lucky to have you in my life

James: I’m the lucky one, my life has changed drastically thanks to you

Ava: You’re the one making the changes, and you deserve me, entirely

James: Your strong will inspires me

Ava: You make stubborn sound much sweeter

James: You’ve turned it into a positive trait

Ava: Do I even need to say how worth it I think this all is, if something seems worth pursuing, I just can’t not

James: I’d encourage you to say whatever you desire, especially out loud

Ava: It does feel as if I could speak it to the sky and those thoughts could get to you, undisturbed and unobserved by anyone else

James: And selfishly, I miss hearing your voice

Ava: [send a voice note of you doing that, with the ambience of being outside on a summer’s night and all the extra shit you just have to say]

James: I appreciate not being on the tube considering my reaction

Ava: I’m glad you’re alone too

Ava: I have to admit how thoroughly I enjoy monopolising your attention

James: You did with my drunk brother on my arm and a waiting car in our peripheral vision, my attention hasn’t shifted since

Ava: I’m still not sorry

Ava: I wasn’t then, only in my moments of fear and doubt have I questioned any of this

James: I’ll keep you safer, I promise

Ava: Do you want to?

James: Of course

Ava: I’m not hard work, am I?

James: You aren’t work at all

Ava: Good

Ava: because I want that

James: Then I’ll better protect you

Ava: You do it amazingly

Ava: you think about me more than anyone else, just knowing and believing that makes me feel so cared for

James: No, I let you down earlier

Ava: You didn’t

James: From now on, I refuse to

Ava: [send him a blushy selfie because he’s being so daddy and you can’t cope]

James: [drop a peak romance poetic af line about it which could be a quote but isn’t]

Ava: I feel like I’m getting better at spotting your work, as I should as your biggest fan

James: [see if you can guess what page she’s on because you left her the fancy notebook aka the whole story so far, just dropping a page number without any context like ? because you know she’ll know what you’re asking]

Ava: So close

Ava: [going to say you have read slightly more because keen ofc]

James: Are you going to read the other [however many pages she has left, because he’s so nervous and nearly didn’t pack that lol]?

Ava: Of course I am, I should have lingered and really savoured every word but I can read it at least another few times before you’re back

James: I’ll rewrite it as many times as you think fitting

Ava: But I like it how it is

Ava: I know that rewriting and multiple drafts are key to being a serious author but it’s exactly how it felt, how it happened

Ava: I wouldn’t want that lost on the cutting room floor

James: [tell her how many drafts you’ve done pre-fancy notebook because likewise keen obvs, tis all he do atm haha, like maybe it’s okay to not again and I can still be a serious author]

Ava: The words I can come up with now off the top of my head aren’t sufficient enough to tell you how good it is

Ava: my extraordinary bias taken into account beforehand too

James: The number of pages you’ve read through is a fair indicator, it must be passable

Ava: Absolutely

Ava: I’ve noted my favourite parts but I want to give it back to you so you can read along with my notes

James: Or your bias is substantial enough to overcome my lacklustre efforts

James: but, your notes will reveal more on that

Ava: Do you know any of the English faculty at King’s?

Ava: I bet you could charm one of them for a more expert and unbiased opinion, if you wanted

James: Yours is the only opinion which matters, will ever have any real significance to me

Ava: Okay, then you’ll have to believe me, I love it

James: I adore you

Ava: I adore you too

James: I’m risking getting you into trouble if the bear’s eyes aren’t covered, my apologies

Ava: [do cover them with his paws and send a pic like lol]

James: Crisis narrowly averted, well done, darling

Ava: I’m sure I could talk him ‘round if necessary, after all, he’s got to spend all this time with me and not you

James: True, you are the sweetest talker and it’s I who should be envious of his privileged position

Ava: I may have to find him a new position, pride of place, when you come home

Ava: we won’t all fit

James: And perhaps momentarily, as he is my temporary stand in

Ava: Oh

Ava: that is an idea

James: [obviously wax lyrical about the position this bear should be aka you wanna be in sir, in explicit detail, which at this precise moment of time is head between her legs doing the absolute most]

Ava: Fuck, James

James: That’s my aim, yes

Ava: I’m truly sorry for what I’m about to do to this bear’s face, Jesus

James: He isn’t because I’m not

Ava: You’re still proud of me

James: Didn’t I tell you that you deserve every reward?

Ava: I feel like I’m behaving very badly now though

James: You’re acting on my instructions

Ava: True

Ava: my favourite way to behave

James: So be a good girl

Ava: Yes

Ava: I’m doing it just like you showed me

James: As promised, I’ll look after you

Ava: You can look, hear, whatever you ask of me

Ava: though my blushes may reach catastrophic levels if you listen to the things I didn’t even know I wanted to say to you

James: I’m afraid to ask everything of you, it would form an instant habit

Ava: But that does seem right, as you never leave my mind, nor does the effect you have on my body, so I think you have a right to know at any given moment

James: It would feel right

Ava: [send him video of your unhinged behaviour because literally cannot stop yourself grinding against this bear, nor can you stop the 🥺 noises or the way you are unable to not call him daddy in this moment]

James: Oh fuck

Ava: Is that okay, I’ve felt this way for so long but I don’t have to tell you

James: You can tell me anything, you should

Ava: You’re just so protective and capable and supportive and everything I already have told you, it’s fitting

James: It’s okay, more than

Ava: That’s how I feel too

James: I don’t know how to verbalise what it means that you construct for me an identity I didn’t have, always

Ava: It’s just how you are, to me, what I see

James: Ava

Ava: What are you doing right now, I want to know I’m not alone with how much I’m doing in almost public

James: [send her a video of your own unhinged behaviour, soz to this sun lounger getting abused in this manner but he doesn’t have a bear to]

Ava: I can feel that, the hold you have over my imagination is like nothing I’ve ever known before

Ava: I’ve missed you

James: I love your imagination, I don’t intend to ever leave

Ava: Stay, stay, stay

Ava: Please

James: It’s a home away from home, I won’t

Ava: I’d offer you the key but you have it already, clearly

James: You can have a key when I move

Ava: I can?

Ava: That means so much

James: Yes, I want you to stay as well

Ava: It would be really strange if I started crying now, all things considered

Ava: just know how touched I am

James: You’d have to move the bear to let him hold you as I would

Ava: and I don’t think I can

James: Not yet

Ava: You tell me when

James: When I’m back, a moment prior would be too soon

Ava: The practicalities of this intrigue me and make for a maybe hilarious maybe as tantalising mental image

James: You’ll need to remain where you are

Ava: I would love that, missing you is easier when not surrounded by other people

James: [do a countdown as if she’s really gonna not move]

Ava: [make it a reminder on your phone calendar, again, like you won’t move a muscle]

James: [not this boy writing it on his hand like you do with casual reminders but not at all casually and exactly like when she wrote his name on her thigh, we all remember]

Ava: Being right where you left me feels like where I should be

James: Can you put my watch on without getting up or going inside?

Ava: Without going inside, yes, hold on

Ava: [I imagine you have everything he gave you in the bag out here with you so get to that without moving from this bear and send him the proof]

James: I stand corrected, it’s yours

Ava: I couldn’t possibly keep it but I like wearing it, and the time is memorised and imprinted on my brain

James: Please

Ava: Won’t you miss it?

James: Should I we’ll stop another

Ava: An excellent plan

Ava: I fear nothing we do is replicable but we can try our hardest

James: As long as you’re sure that what you’re doing is something I can, and am going to

James: [write about it again in detail because you are extra and you’ve seen her doing it now so you fully can]

Ava: Obviously it’ll be unbearably better when it’s you

Ava: even the best replacement is only that

James: He has an advantage over me in that he doesn’t require pauses for breath, but I’d gladly sacrifice taking any

Ava: You know you’ll kill me before you run out of breath

James: The only way I’ll permit you to die for me

James: [a countdown for this like die rn immediately because I say so please and thank you]

Ava: Shit

James: [write all the praise and encouragement in all the ways like you did until the moment she was standing in front of you IRL]

Ava: [taking what would feel like ages, for the constant back and forth you have been having, to reply because that killed you, even if it’s just a minute]

Ava: I

James: You can tell me, it’s okay

Ava: I’m still searching for the words to

James: There’s time, you and I have plenty

Ava: So much more to come

James: Absolutely

Ava: You seem confident, in a way you didn’t before

James: I am

Ava: I love it

James: The prospect of you nobly walking away reiterated to me I’m totally unprepared for our separation

Ava: I am only hypothetically interested in how I intended to pull it off myself, I can’t bear to think about it any other way

James: I crave you, this life

Ava: We’ll find a way to make it happen, we need to, this is so right that any other life is rendered irrelevant

James: I’m hostile to the mere possibility and exclusively open to actions which help me to hold onto you

Ava: I’m not going anywhere, I want this to be long-term

James: I could die happy if I got to see you every day, to publicly be with you on any number of those days

Ava: The idea that, one day, that can be more than fantasy in my head is wild

James: I had hope before, but I recently have resolve too

Ava: No secrets, no lies, it’s liberating

James: A new leaf

Ava: I don’t know where you’re going to find the time to write about us when we never have to be apart

James: I’ll insist you sleep for the recommended hours

Ava: Hey, what about your recommended hours

James: I’ve been deprived for the last four years, I’ll be fine

Ava: No

Ava: I admit that storytime had the opposite effect tonight but I will work out how to get you to sleep

James: [shade authors how you two like to do being like you could read them to me lol without actually saying that, and then pick some journalists because she is gonna be one who won’t suck, casual list of boring bastards]

Ava: I don’t want to bore you to death, darling

James: I could listen to you recite [something really REALLY boring, like the phonebook but they don’t exist, you know what I mean, maybe he’s sassing school/the revision she hates most, just for fun], and indeed will

Ava: You’ll love running lines with me just as much as I will then

James: I’m really looking forward to it

Ava: There’s a lot I’m looking forward to

James: Me too

Ava: I know this part is going to be really hard for you

Ava: but I’ll be here for you

James: Thank you

Ava: Of course, you shouldn’t be on your own through this

James: Shy of imposing, which I baulk at, I’ll try to embrace your full support

Ava: That’s what friends are for

James: Rarely has anything of the sort been my experience

Ava: No

Ava: A good friend, then, a rarity, not to toot my own horn but I shall try to be one

James: You’re a wonderful companion, along with esteemed faux work colleague, lest we forget

Ava: How could we?

Ava: Our lunch dates are the highlight of every working day

James: They are

Ava: I hope we can keep it up

James: Retirement is far off

Ava: So is Uni for me, I think we can manage

James: A little less so, but yes

Ava: Two whole years before we need to think about that

James: Shh, [a teacher he had that she therefore still has who is that bitch] would despair to hear that you aren’t

Ava: They have bigger fish to fry right now, maybe [this teacher] can beg your brother and the other culprits to do some revision before final exam…

James: It is a tactic he’d be inclined to respond to, unlike [another teacher who we are shading because they either do nothing or they are shouty and go too hard, whichever]

Ava: Mm, more carrot less stick

Ava: He is like Frank in that way

James: Most are partial to honey rather than vinegar

Ava: [this aggy teacher] will have to get some treats in

James: A student council worthy recommendation

Ava: I can assume you had different priorities than my brother and were not on the prefect team in sixth form, right?

Ava: Competition for head boy had to have been thin on the ground

James: I wasn’t many years into secondary in advance of being deemed an academic lost cause, [the head teacher] would have been taken ill, I fear, dare I utter the words head boy

Ava: I don’t know if I can call that a shame in good conscience, even only as a hypothetical

James: I’m intrigued what you would call it

Ava: Don’t get me wrong, I’m not wishing death on [the head] and the rest of the faculty

Ava: I just think [their school] is as questionable an institution as any other people buy their way into

James: You’ll hear no counter arguments from me on the subject

Ava: Even though I apparently give off prefect energy, I doubt I’ll bother with it

James: Undercover journalism is bound to be time consuming, I can’t in good conscience champion the assignment

Ava: Exactly

Ava: My friend Raz will have to report back to me when she invariably decides she must be head girl

James: You’ll have your own hands full with [some hilarious guesses for what the school play might be] once you get the bug this term

Ava: Will you even be able to cope if I go full theatre kid annoying?

James: The weekly dose of baby ballerinas and their mothers stands me in good stead, I suspect

Ava: Oh, well that is just not a favourable comparison at all

Ava: I don’t think I can live with that

James: You’ll have to hold onto the character you’re already endowed with, in that instance

Ava: Or hold onto summer as long as we can

James: I think I can live with that

Ava: It isn’t too late for me to consider other schools, if necessary

James: You have the luxury of time to contemplate all manner of things

Ava: Not that long but, again, the summer

Ava: I hadn’t contemplated anywhere else but it would be less complicated, for numerous reasons, I don’t know

James: Perhaps and one less complication is one less complication

Ava: Sorry, what you don’t need right now is another choice to make

Ava: I’ll work it out, it doesn’t matter right now

James: It isn’t my choice and I won’t make it for you, but that doesn’t mean we’re barred from discussing it, that’s never the case

Ava: I know

Ava: I think the shock has perhaps worn off and I just feel a bit, well, you know

James: Yes, but don’t worry, I’d dissuade you from a hasty decision, as much as I possess any influence

Ava: You possess plenty of influence, I care about your opinion

James: And I the trajectory of your life, the smaller steps and the larger

Ava: Knowing everyone and everyone knowing you has always seemed like such a negative

Ava: but if I don’t know anyone at a new school, maybe that’s a different kind of awful

James: There is a loneliness in fresh starts which are seldom talked about

Ava: It must be hard, losing friends because you need to lose a lifestyle, especially so young

James: That said, you’re not me, I believe you’d make new ones

Ava: That wasn’t entirely under your control, don’t say it like a failing

James: It was a failing to relinquish control over the amount of things I did

Ava: If it were possible to resist, you would have

James: Defiance is always possible, if you’re willing to face the consequences, I wasn’t

Ava: You were trying to make it work, whether you see that as a foolish endeavour now

James: A house built on sand, not that I’m poised to make your bedtime reading biblical all of a sudden

Ava: An interesting proposition

James: You’d sleep for the recommended hours but your dreams may be fascinating

Ava: The Book of Revelation is meant to be a trip

Ava: I don’t want to go to bed, still

James: I’m not ready to let you either

Ava: We could go for a swim, if I was there

James: [write about it ofc, any excuse for a what if scenario and that would be peak romance as well as a hot move]

Ava: Just add skinny dipping to the endless list of things I need to do with you

James: Turn to the back of the notebook and compose your list please

Ava: You told me to so nicely, I have to

James: I’ll contribute my own ideas when you return it

Ava: I’m afraid this list can’t be rushed, what if I miss something and you think I don’t want to do it?

James: The handover doesn’t need to be rushed, I trust you to take care of this draft of my scribblings

Ava: I’ll take all the care deserving, though I fear I will need more drafts than even you, darling

James: Perhaps you deserve your own notebook for this venture

Ava: I doubt the gift shop has any worthy

James: I’ll organise a detour via [where they were shopping the other day, deliberately so]

Ava: I owe you so many presents

James: You don’t owe me a thing

Ava: Okay, owe isn’t the word

Ava: I want to spoil you as much as you do me

James: I am, the sensitivity and attentiveness you show is unparalleled

Ava: But I want to give you more

James: You’re giving everything you can, I know that

Ava: Don’t forget

James: How could I?

Ava: I know I’m not as mature or as interesting as the girls you’ll be free to see when you’re through all this

James: You’ve approached this with a maturity no one else I’ve spoken with has come close to, not to mention, you’re the most enchanting person I’ve ever met

Ava: It wasn’t super mature of me to bring up my insecurities there though

Ava: I like you, more than just a fling, I want you to know that

James: Well, that’s a relief because this is more than just a fling, isn’t it?

Ava: Yeah

Ava: I hope so

James: I want us to be

Ava: I know, and I do too

Ava: I just know how fast this has been and where you are in your life, I don’t want to be foolish

James: I’d hate to pressure you, I hope you don’t feel that way

Ava: No, not at all

Ava: I told you, I have a habit of getting carried away

James: I’d be suspicious of someone who wasn’t, with emotions as intense as these

Ava: If I had learned any lessons, heeded any advice, we wouldn’t be here

Ava: I’m not mad that we are, by any means

James: I’m typically plagued by regret, but it hasn’t found me here

Ava: I’ll never regret you

James: On the contrary, I’ll pay tribute to you whenever the opportunity arises

Ava: This isn’t too much, it’s the idea that one day it could be taken away, that’s what I was trying to say

James: I’m scared too, again, how could we not be?

Ava: It’s normal, you’re right

Ava: Thank goodness, right

James: Whether or not I’ve learned nearly enough from my copious errors in judgment and bad choices, it’s fair to say I’ve grasped that it’s worth having things you’re anxious you may lose in lieu of having nothing you much care for

Ava: I entirely agree

James: Will you agree to be my girlfriend? I realise it’s just a word, that we can’t actually be together officially, but despite that hurdle yet to be navigated

Ava: Yes

Ava: It means a lot when everything would be simplified by not acknowledging me at all, I know that to be true but to say I don’t want this would be a complete lie

James: You mean a lot, Ava

Ava: I might be floating, I hope that doesn’t break the rules about not leaving here

James: Kindly drift toward me, if so

Ava: I know you can��t possibly guess at this point

Ava: but tell me you’ll be home soon

James: We’ll create a home together soon, I promise

Ava: I can’t even comprehend how happy I would be, to see you that often, get to be with you

James: Until that moment I’m homeless, and aware how dramatic that sounds

Ava: I am a fan of your flair for the dramatic, it matches my own so well

James: It would be awkward for me to disclose something like that if we weren’t perfectly suited to each other, thank you for sparing my blushes

Ava: I do miss them but we need to be in person for me to fully appreciate

Ava: Where shall we live?

James: [send her a picture anyway, just cos]

James: I don’t know, I’ve lived in a grand total of one postcode to date

Ava: God, I can already feel the hours I’m going to spend staring at that rushing past

Ava: I barely have you beat, but that’ll mean it’ll be all the more fun searching

James: I almost feel as though I should get in the pool, then we can both float for a while

Ava: I absolutely think you should

Ava: We all know they’ve had to tolerate worse debauchery from guests who think they can buy their way out of rules, you’ll be fine

James: Shall I? Okay

Ava: I wish I had a pool to get in right now, maybe I’ll get in the hot tub, if I find IV a suitable floaty to keep him, hm, dry is no longer the word

James: [send her a picture of you on one so she can copy it with this bear]

Ava: 🥺

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icey--stars · 2 years ago

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Stories To Be Told: PART 21

Series Index

A shadowsinger, a warrior, an Illyrian, that's what she was. Trained by one of the most formidable female warriors. Escaped the Illyrian camps and her clipping when she was barely sixteen and is now the holder of 6 siphons. What happens when she tries to sneak into the City of Starlight? And starts down a whole new road of chaos?

a/n: warning for mentions of… a missing hand. ya’ll get it. ALSO! in accordance to yesterday's post on the update schedule for stbt... updates will now be once a week on mondays :)

↢ 『 ☾ 』 ↣

After Starfall, as promised, I prepared to fly down to the River House and talk with Rhysand.

But Azriel was walking toward me, and I was inclined to listen to him speak, instead of going to Rhys right now. “Are you going to go talk with Rhys?” He asked.

I nodded. “I have to… face it eventually, don’t I? Perhaps finally get the revenge I deserve.”

Azriel’s eyes shone with sympathy. He reached forward, grabbing my hand in his. Just a little touch, but it was reassuring. And with the close proximity, I also felt a rush of comfort run down that little thin set of strings between us. It eased my nerves ever so slightly.

“Do you want me to come with?” He offered.

I swallowed, closing my eyes briefly as I considered his offer. Then I nodded jerkily. “Please,” I whispered.

Azriel smiled a little, squeezing my palm lightly. Our shadows running over each other’s wrists, playing with each other. I never saw it before, but I heard all their voices, and maybe Azriel’s were a bit more… scrambled, as I didn’t know them– but they were there. And clearly were infatuated with the aspect of me and Azriel being near, and being able to mess with the other’s shadows.

“They’re playing,” I chuckled, momentarily distracted from the aspect of visiting Rhys.

Azriel grinned wider, his eyes locking on our twined hands. “They are,” he hummed. “It’s kind of…”

“Cute?” I guessed, watching as one set jumped into the air between us, dancing around freely.

“Yeah,” Azriel chuckled. “Cute. Just like you.”

I blushed. “You fucker,” I swore, glancing up at his face again. “That was sly, and that’s the only reason I’m letting it slide.”

He smirked mischievously. “It’s not the first time you didn’t kill me for it, so I think it’s ‘third time’s the try?’ Yeah?”

I rolled my eyes. “You’re an idiot,” I scoffed.

“Better than other things,” he hummed. “I believe you called me an asshole first. I think I’ve stepped it up, haven’t I?”

I shook my head, but a smile was on my face.

“Ready to go?” Azriel asked gently, as if hesitant to bring up the matter again.

The dread from earlier immediately resurfaced and I tried to push it down again, but to no avail. “Yeah,” I hummed, eyes suddenly distant. “Let’s go.”

We took off, gliding down to the River House situated along the Sidra. Rhys opened the door, probably having either sensed us or seen us fly in.

“How’s the headache?” Rhys asked, going for a lighter tone after we’d entered the house.

I actually hadn’t had too bad of a headache this morning from the alcohol. Even after downing close to 10 drinks throughout the night. The hangover hadn’t been too bad.

“Could be worse,” I replied. Azriel nodded in agreement beside me. “And you?”

“Same,” Rhys hummed. “Are you alright with talking about what happened in Ironcrest?”

I swallowed, and nodded. “Yeah, yeah.”

Azriel grabbed my hand immediately, squeezing it. It was comforting to have that touch for once. To have that little grounding force keeping me from falling into my thoughts and memories.

“Let’s go sit,” Rhys recommended, motioning toward the couches just a few feet away. I nodded, sitting on a couch. Azriel sat next to me, not letting my hand go. Internally, I swore to thank him. As a friend, as a mate, as something, but he was helping considerably.

“Right,” Rhys said, sitting in an armchair nearby. “I’ve heard most of what happened from Azriel, but if possible, I’d like to hear your point of view, or at least what happened when Az disappeared.”

I took a deep breath. “When Az left…” I began. “Ambroz stood, and I followed. He… uh… slapped me, and when I tried to draw a dagger, he grabbed onto my wing.”

I felt a pulse of anger from the bond in my chest. “I wasn’t able to get to my other weapons. He took one of my daggers, and held it up to my wing. He was planning to… clip me. Finish the job, he said. Az burst in not too much later.”

Rhys nodded, eyes shining with sympathy. Azriel gently nudged my ankle with his boot, squeezing my palm. I experimentally sent some of that thankfulness I felt for the actions down the bond. A pulse of something that resembled affection came back in reply.

“Well, I suppose, mission accomplished,” Rhys hummed. “I’m sorry you had to go through that to warrant it though. It never was my intention, nor anyone’s to cause that to happen.”

I nodded, looking down at the floor. “It’s fine,” I lied. It wasn’t fine. No, not in the slightest. Not with these horrible feelings spilling from me.

“The next thing I want to ask,” Rhys continued. “Is if you still want to claim his killing blow. It’s yours if you want it. And if you’d like to gain some closure by speaking with him, then you are free to do so.”

I took a deep breath, eyes closing briefly. “I’ll do it,” I muttered. “When can I?”

“Whenever you’d like. Just… don’t go alone,” Rhys replied. “And if you’d like to do it as soon as possible, we can grab some gear and go right now.”

I looked over at Azriel, silently begging him to come with me.

He dipped his head, a small smile tugging at his mouth. “If you want to do it today angel, we can. I can go with you.”

I nodded. “Let’s kill this asshole,” I said in the most even voice I could manage right now. My heart was pounding against my chest, the sound of blood rushing through my ears only adding to that anxiety curling in my gut. “I’ll get my sword.”

Rhys glanced at Azriel incredulously, but he soon turned back to me. “We can all go,” he decided.

I nodded, standing from the couch and letting Azriel’s hand drop from my own. He stood up beside me. “We’ll be right back brother.”

And barely fifteen minutes later, I was standing right outside the cell of Lord Ambroz of Ironcrest. My father. With my High Lord, and my mate as the spymaster. “Let’s go,” I ground out, putting my hand on the handle of my sword from where it rested at my hip.

Azriel leaned in to whisper in my ear. “One word, and you can leave and never think about him again, got it?”

I nodded, and then motioned to Rhys to open up the door that did not have a door handle. The High Lord did not have his wings out, despite flying here, but his dark magic was showing, flowing around so similarly to my shadows. Speaking of my shadows, they were curled up close to me. A few whispered to sing with them. And though I wished I could right now, there was a job I had to finish.

The door opened and the High Lord went in first, and I followed with Azriel right on my trail.

Ambroz was locked tightly in chains connecting to the wall. He looked ragged, and so much different than the last time I saw him. He was indeed missing a hand. Halfway through his left forearm, it had been cut off. Bone severed through rage. And his healing had only been able to close the skin around the stub.

But the male himself? Oh, he smirked when he saw me. He looked so incredibly proud of what he did.

Rhys spoke first, voice speaking in a deadly sort of way that curled up like his darkness. “Ambroz, I believe you have some things to speak about with Y/N.”

Ambroz chuckled lowly. “Indeed I do.”

I took a final, deep calming breath before stepping closer to the male. “Why’d you do it?” I asked. “Why did you do it?”

Ambroz rolled his eyes. “Daughter, you look well.”

“Answer the fucking question,” Azriel snapped from my side. I saw his hand go down to his thigh, where one of his prized daggers was tightened into the sheath.

The prisoner rolled his eyes dramatically. “It is custom, daughter. And I am a lord, appeasing the citizens of my camp.”

“It isn’t your camp anymore,” Rhys snarled.

“Oh really?” Ambroz chuckled. “Whose is it then, High Lord?”

“Mine. Until I can find a reasonable replacement.”

“As if you’ll find someone,” Ambroz scoffed.

I cut in. “Stop acting as if you’re better than everyone else, Ambroz. I don’t fucking care. At the moment, you are the one in chains. And you are the one who’s going to die.”

“That’s what you think, daughter,” Ambroz said smugly.

I tensed, the word ‘daughter’ finally worming its way into my skull. “I will never be your daughter,” I snarled.

“Oh, but you are,” Ambroz smirked. Probably enjoying the fact he was finally getting into my head. “And you will forever be. It makes me curious, because you never dared wonder about your eye color, did you?”

I didn’t share the eye color my mother and brother had. I’d always had something different. And now that I looked into Ambroz’s eyes… They were the same color. Exactly the same. “Shut up,” I growled, tightening my grip on my sword. “Just shut the fuck up.”

Azriel, beside me, put a hand on my shoulder. The touch grounded me enough to realize my wings had flared out in my anger, and that I was tensed as hard as a boulder.

Ambroz scoffed. “Look at you, still uncontrollable.”

Azriel snapped his head up, his glare accentuated by the shadows curling in his hair and around his ears.

I turned away, taking a few steps away from my childhood torturer. There was a soft tap on my mind’s shields. Dark claws skittering along the edges of the barrier I kept up to protect my thoughts. I opened up hesitantly.

Rhys’s voice filled my mind, the dark claws gentle as they stood at the edge of my mind, not going in too far. You’re not obligated to stay, you know that right? I said if you want the killing blow. Not that you needed to make it.

I’m fine, I replied.

Just wanted to remind you, that’s all. And then Rhys retreated.

Ambroz continued to snarl insults at me, but I heard Azriel and Rhys snarking right back at him.

Finally, I turned back. “Ambroz, you will pay for what you’ve done to me and others in the past. But not by my hand.”

I felt surprise from the bond in my chest. I leaned in to whisper into Azriel’s ear. “Give him hell.”

Azriel turned his head to look at me, and finally, resolution filtered into his gaze. “I’ll find you later,” he promised. “After I make him pay for hurting you.”

I nodded, and then cast one more glance at Rhys before I winnowed into the skies above Velaris, snapping my wings open to glide. The silence and comfort of flying didn’t last as long as I liked, and I was forced to turn back to the House of Wind, going to my room only to collapse onto my bed, groaning at the horrible feelings I had right now.

Not just from Ambroz, but for some reason, just something felt wrong. So wrong I couldn’t even muster the energy to get up. I felt like absolute shit. And I wasn’t even sick! I just felt like shit for what was probably no damn reason.

It was hours before Azriel returned. I heard him walk into his room, boots squelching against the floor. Another hour passed before he softly knocked on my door.

“Y/N?” He called. “Could I come in?”

I groaned, but called out to him, “Come in!”

The door knob twisted and Azriel padded into the room. I turned my head to look at him, lifting my wing out of the way from where it draped across the bed and down to the floor. Azriel wasn’t wearing his leathers anymore, he was just wearing a loose shirt. He chuckled, amused, when he saw me.

“You alright angel?”

I laid my wing right back down, my face going into the bed to muffle my next groan of frustration.

Azriel huffed. “It’s not about that asshole, right?”

I shook my head. I had trusted Azriel to take care of that and exact revenge from Ambroz. I trusted Azriel. “I just feel like shit, sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” he admonished. “I get feeling like shit.”

I chuckled, lifting my head to look at him. His hair was wet, and almost looked fluffy like this. He must’ve taken a bath to clean off the blood that had surely been spilled.

“Do you care if I scratch your head? You seemed to like it before,” he asked, walking around my wing to crouch at the head of the bed, looking at me.

I hummed, closing my eyes again. “Sure,” I hummed.

I could almost feel his shit-eating grin from here. One of those beautiful scarred hands trailed up the back of my neck, producing just the slightest shiver, before scratching at that short hair, his short nails feeling great against my scalp.

I hummed, content.

“Am I allowed to call you cute now?” Az chuckled, trailing his hands up along the side of my head, scratching near the ear before moving to the top.

I grumbled, not opening my eyes.

“I’m going to take that as a yes,” Azriel said.

I leaned into his touch, too utterly emotionally raw and tired to care how it might be seen. It just felt so good to have someone I trusted, and loved–when did I establish I loved Azriel?–just gently scratching at my scalp. The feeling was only proving to make me sleepy, despite it only being midday.

“Rest, angel,” Azriel hummed. “I’ll stay until you fall asleep.”

I smiled, and got more comfortable, bringing my wings up to rest on the bed instead of the floor. Azriel pulled the blankets out from under me carefully, not touching my wings or any part that he hadn’t gotten strict permission to touch. Then he ever so gently tucked the blankets around me, and continued to scratch my head from where he was kneeled on the floor. I fell asleep easily, feeling so incredibly safe, loved and at home. And with the scent I called home before, of cedar trees and night-chilled misty air… it was just perfect. Everything felt just perfect.

↢ 『 ☾ 』 ↣

TAGLIST (see post for getting added)

@mis-lil-red, @bunnymallowo, @judig92, @biblophilefox82, @azzydaddy, @thegirlintheshadows101, @whatupmydudes01, @feyres-fireheart, @elizarikaallen, @xenlynn, @panzees-bizarre-adventures, @starswholistenanddreamsanswered, @baebeepeach, @nyctophiliiiiaaa, @brekkershadowsinger, @officiallyunofficialperson, @bookslut420, @margssstuff, @bluephoenix908, @goldentournesol, @rebloggiest-reblogger, @inpraizeof, @ladylokilaufeyson5,

#azriel #azriel x reader #azrielxreader #acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar fanfic #rhysand #original character #hurt/comfort #mywriting

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ravenclaw-daydreams · 4 years ago

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𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐩𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐝𝐨 | 𝐉𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐑𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐧𝐞𝐫

Warnings: mention of assassination, graphic smut, adult content, mentions of murder, pervy men in the workplace, falling for a villain, guns, mentions of pregnancy, unprotected sex, alcohol.

Masterlist

Summary: Jackson just wants a normal life but thanks to his business, his chances were slim. but after meeting you, his chances it doesn't seem like such a long shot anymore.

A/N: Reading Jack's Villian wiki gave me the idea, and the personality section is what really set it in motion. He's more human than we thought, folks. I felt VERY inclined to write this. :)

Jack wasn't proud of his work. He never was. But he knew that once he got into the business, he could never get out. And as fate would have it, you met him on the job.

Your boss was a ruthless, lying, manipulative son of a bitch, and you just so happened to be his receptionist. You hated your job and the way your pig of a boss would always make it sickeningly obvious he was starring at your breasts when asking you to make a call. You hated him. Sometimes you would imagine ways to kill the bastard and get away with it too.

Apparently, someone else had the same idea, but actually took the initiative of hiring an assassin. That's where you came in.

It was a late Friday night, and after a long grueling day of putting up with your boss's demands, you were so happy to see the front door of your home. You couldn't wait to collapse on the couch with a glass of red wine and have a leisurely weekend.

You fiddled with your keys as you tried to find the right one. 'Why the hell did I have all those keys anyways?' you thought to yourself bitterly as you shuffled them around.

But the sound of a gun cocking from behind you made you freeze. Air caught in your throat as you tried to convince yourself you didn't just hear what you thought you heard.

"Don't let me stop you," a smooth masculine voice from behind you sneered, pressing what you presumed to be the barrel of the gun point-blank onto your back, "Unlock the door, step inside. Scream and you die."

You gave a small nod, your search for the right key more frantic now, and once you found it, your shaking hand fumbled with it before finally slipping it into the keyhole, your trembling hand opening the door, and you felt yourself get pushed inside.

The door slammed behind you, and that's when you whipped around, now face to face with your captor. The gun was still pointed at you, but the man who was holding it was what stopped you in your tracks.

If someone told you that morning that you were going to be held at gunpoint by one of the most attractive men you had ever seen in your life, you would have laughed in their face. But you weren't laughing now.

"What do you want?" you managed to squeak out, his piercing blue eyes bore into yours.

"Well, I have a job to do, to put it plainly, and you're one of the only people that can help me complete it," he began to explain, "And you don't have a choice."

"What are you wanting from me?"

"Your boss. I want you to call him and tell him that there's something going on and he needs to swing by the office. Once he obliges, my guys who are waiting outside the building as we speak will take it from there."

"You're going to kill him?" you gasped. Sure, you considered doing it yourself, but you never thought anyone would actually try to do it.

"You don't need to worry about that. What you need to worry about is the gun that's pointed at you right now," he concluded, reaching for your home phone, politely holding it out for you to take.

You paused, and he raised a brow. Out of instinct, you tried to bolt past him to the front door, but when you realized it wasn't going to work, it was too late. He grabbed you violently as you thrashed in his grasp before he collapsed the two of you on the couch. He held you in one position until he felt your breathing calm, your neck in a headlock as you faced away from him, panting like an angry dog.

"Stop getting cute," he hissed next to your ear, and even though you couldn't see his face, you knew his teeth were gritting.

He finally trusted you wouldn't pull anything else after he gave a harsh squeeze to your trapped throat, and he let you go, and you immediately scooted to the other side of the couch.

You felt his eyes on you, and with a sudden jerked movement, he held out what you thought was the gun, making you flinch. But with a double-take, you realized it was just the phone.

You reached out, taking it, his eyes never leaving yours. You felt as if you could see something in his gaze. Something longing. Something not quite there. Reluctance.

Shaken fingers press the numbers as you click 'dial', but before you could hold it up to your ear, your captor stopped you.

"Nuh-uh. Speaker."

You nodded, pressing the speaker button before the dial tone echoed through your home. After three times, the line was suddenly picked up.

"What the hell are you doing calling at this hour?" your boss's harsh voice hissed through the phone.

"Yeah, Mr. Snider, there seems to be something happening at the office. Someone from the administration is here and demanding to see you," you tried your best to sound convincing.

"What do they fucking want?" he scorned, his tone making you flinch.

"I wish I knew, sir. They won't tell me anything," you tried to force a smile in your voice.

"Fucking useless," he grunted, making you shift uncomfortably.

"Should I tell them you're on your way?" you proposed.

"Fuck. Fine. I'll be there in 15. And hey, don't get bitchy with me, yeah? Don't forget, you work for me."

"Yes sir," you muttered, loud enough for him to hear.

All the while Jack was watching your reactions. He saw how you flinched at strong tones and saddened at the insults.

The sound of the line going dead was what snapped him back to reality, your still shaking hand setting it down on the coffee table.

"Is that all you needed?" you finally spoke.

"I wish I could say yes," his words made your gaze shift to the floor in disappointment, "I need to stay here until the deed is done."

"How long will that be?"

"After I make this phone call to let the guys know the target is on his merry way, we'll wait until I get a call back. Then we can part ways and you'll never speak of it to anyone. Or else I will have no other choice but to come back and kill you."

You curled in on yourself, resting your chin on your knees as you didn't answer, the sounds of a number being dialed making you cringe.

The sudden movement of him standing up made you flinch, and for a second you thought you almost saw a look of sympathy flash through his eyes before he held the phone to his ear, waiting for the other line to pick up.

"Stu? Yeah. Yeah, she called. He's on his way. He'll be there in 10. Make it look believable, yeah? Clients aren't paying us for anything that looks tacky."

Jack continued his conversation on the phone as he made his way to your kitchen, still in clear view of you. A few moments later he came back, the phone now hung up, a glass of water in his hand.

"Drink," he commanded.

"I'm not thirsty,"

He suddenly set the phone down, taking one of your hands and wrapping it around the cup, "I don't want you passing out on me. Drink," he commanded again.

Now it felt as if you had no choice. You lifted the cups to your lips, gently sipping as he watched you like a hawk until all the water was down your throat.

"Good girl," he praised jokingly, setting the glass on the table.

He then sat down with you on the couch. There was a prolonged silence.

"What's your name?" you finally asked.

He turned to you and cocked a brow.

"Sorry... just trying to make conversation," with an assassin you added bitterly in your head.

He scoffed, the room going back to silence, the two of you waiting... listening.

"Jackson."

"What?" you questioned, looking at him.

"My name. It's Jackson."

"Oh," you replied, "Well, I'm (name)."

"I know," he smirked.

You mentally facepalmed. Of course he did. He was an or assassin for fuck's sake.

"Can I call you Jack?" you asked meekly.

"Seeing as you won't ever see me again, sure. I haven't been called Jack since I was a kid though."

You could tell he was trying to open up. Just a little. Besides, he was right. It wasn't like he was ever going to see you again.

"Why?"

"Rippner. It's my last name," he explained.

"Oh shit," you said in spite of it not being lady-like, "That was a dick move on your parent's part."

"Tell me about it."

The conversation unfolded. You spoke about names, childhood experiences, hell, even what your favorite ice cream flavor was. It was a careless conversation with the mentality of getting everything out there.

You almost forgot that your boss was being killed right as you spoke. You felt the man in front of you open up. He was okay with being vulnerable with you.

That was until the phone rang, Jack rushing to pick it up.

"Yeah?"

His facial expression was unreadable as you watched him. Finally, he hung up the phone, his face returning to the same cold and distant look it had the moment you two had met.

"Well, (name), this is where we part ways," he began, but before he could walk to the front entryway, you grabbed his hand.

He looked startled as he turned around, his eyes searching your face for an answer. Your move was bold. Risky. But you were willing to take it.

"Don't go." your mouth moved before you could stop it.

He narrowed his eyes, almost as if he didn't believe it was you talking. Yet his hand was still being held tightly in yours.

"Please don't go."

☆○o。　　。o○☆☆○o。　　。o○☆☆○o。　　。o○☆

1 Year Later

☆○o。　　。o○☆☆○o。　　。o○☆☆○o。　　。o○☆

You flipped in your sleep, half awake when you realized the spot next to you was bare, the indent of the once sleepless man in his place. You sighed as you flipped back over, looking at the clock.

2:15 am.

You pulled yourself away from your kingdom of soft pillows and blankets and slipped out of bed, your feet pressing against the hardwood of your home. You left the bedroom, crept down the hallway, and when you were finally met with the living area of your home, you were met with the form of your lover.

He was hunched over on the couch, hovering over a glass of red wine that rested in his hand. He seemed to be lost in thought, his blue eyes no longer piercing but distant.

The creak of the floorboards under you gave your position away, the man glancing up at you, spooked.

An instant look of regret graced his beautiful features, "Honey, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you."

"Hush," you sighed, "It's warmer out here anyway," you concluded.

"Even without your mountain of blankets?" he smirked, thinking of how adorable you looked cuddled up under the mound of linen.

"The bed is always cold when you're not in it," you whined, stilling next to him as he continued to nurse his glass of red liquid.

"Sorry love," he sighed, setting down the glass before wrapping his arms around you, your head resting on his chest as you listened in on his heartbeat. It was soft and lulling as you felt your eyes begin to droop.

That was, until you felt his hard-on press up against your back. A smirk crossed your lips.

"Is this why you couldn't sleep?" you questioned, subtly rubbing up against his bulge as you heard his breath catch in his throat.

"As I said," he muttered, "Didn't want to wake you."

"You could have just said so," you sat up, giving him a passionate kiss, one hand going in his hair, the other going down to his crotch, where he let out a primal groan at the feeling of your touch.

"I'm gonna be honest, I'm not really in the mood for foreplay," he stated, his hand reaching your lace panties and ripping them off, pulling you on his lap so you straddled him.

He pulled his boxers down to his knees, his cock springing up. The tip was flushed and angry, pre-cum leaking from the tip, the ridges of his veins pumping.

You bit your lip as you hovered over his gorgeous cock before sinking down slowly, the both of you moaning as you become one. Not long after you began to bounce up and down on his cock.

Jack growled as he grabbed a hold of your hips, helping you as he lifted you on and off his cock, searching for solace in orgasm. His eyes locked with yours as you rode him, and in his eyes, you found nothing but love and admiration, every part of him screaming in appreciation for you.

To put it plainly, he loved the way you loved.

You felt yourself tighten, yet to your disdain, your lover found his release first, a loud groan escaping his lips as he poured himself into you, the warmth in your belly growing as you felt him let go.

By the time he was finished, he was completely blissed out, but you weren't done yet. You wanted to cum. You pulled him out of you, and he watched as his spend dripped out of your swollen mound.

Before he could ask if you were okay, you were already back on him, your thighs now straddling one of his.

"What are you doing?" he asked darkly, raising a brow.

"Shut up," you hissed, rubbing your clit on the meat of his thigh, not wanting to lose any fraction that was already built up.

He caught the hint, his hands finding your hips once again as he helped you drag your throbbing cunt against the skin of his leg. All the while, he whispered filthy things in your ear, knowing it would get you there faster.

"Look at you go. Bet you're not so tired now, eh? Humping my leg like a little bunny. Such a good girl, huh?" he coaxed in your ear, and you nodded desperately, immediately agreeing with whatever he was saying. You just wanted to cum.

Finally, you felt yourself come right up to the edge. Jack knew all your body language perfectly, smirking at you as he began to speak.

"Come on, cum for me, baby. Let me watch you cum,"

And you did. Oh, you did. Your ears rang as your eyes shut tight, feeling your body tense and shake as you let your orgasm sweep you away.

Jack helped you ride through it, his words of praise now seeping into your brain.

"Good girl, there you go," he crooned as you began to catch your breath.

You panted as you slumped against him, hearing his heartbeat once more, matching your breathing with his. You felt him press a small kiss to the crown of your head.

"Thank you," he whispered, and all you could do was nod.

Then he began to stand, "Now come on. Let's go take a shower."

"Can I bring the wine?" you asked intently.

"Fuck it," he laughed.

☆○o。　　。o○☆☆○o。　　。o○☆☆○o。　　。o○☆

3 Months Later

☆○o。　　。o○☆☆○o。　　。o○☆☆○o。　　。o○☆

"You're doing it again,"

Jack looked up at you at the sound of your voice. He was sitting there, his hands folded and his jaw clenched, his leg bouncing up and down in anxiety as he went back to staring at the developing pregnancy test on the table.

"What?" he finally said.

"You're overthinking. I can see it in your face."

He rolled his eyes, seeming harsher than he intended. But he was nervous. In complete honesty, you were the first thing Jack had that had any semblance of normal. and after the things he's done and after the things he'd seen, normal was everything he wanted. And that's what this baby meant.

He craved normal. Life as an assassin didn't really scream domestic. But with you, everything he had ever wanted was wherever you were.

"Whatever the test reads, we'll be okay," you ensured, walking behind him and wrapping your arms around the anxious man, doing your best to calm his rapturing nerves.

"Yeah," he agreed, taking a deep breath, "We'll be okay."

The timer suddenly went off, the both of you perking up, chomping at the bit to get to the test, your fingers clutching it as you looked at it.

You gasped.

Jack froze.

You bolted into his arms, test in hand, bawling like a baby.

"You're gonna be a dad, Jack! You're gonna be a dad!!" you squealed, your arms wrapped tightly around him as he held you tight.

He began to tear up, "Really?"

You pulled back and nodded, showing him the test that read positive. He took it in his hands as a means to do a double-take, looking at the two little blue lines.

Without a word, he embraced you again, holding you tighter. His voice was muffled against your shoulder. From him came a small:

"Thank you."

#cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy fanfiction #cillian x reader #cillian murphy #cillian x y/n #tommy shelby fluff #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby smut #red eye #jack rippner #jack rippner x reader #jack rippner smut #cillian murphy x reader smut #cillian murphy characters #cillian #murphy

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pansyslut · 4 years ago

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stilettos

pansy x fem reader

summary: you get needy on your date and pansy punishes you for it

warnings: dom pansy/sub reader, shoe humping, spanking, mommy kink, degration, praise

you took in pansy for the first time as she sat in front of you. she had on a silk dress with a plunging neckline and matching colored stiletto heels. you tried so hard all dinner to not look at her but you couldn’t help but throw small glances. her face, her collarbone, her breasts, her heels. your eyes darted everywhere and you knew she knew what she was doing to you.

shifting in your seat you try to look casual as the waiter comes up to your table. pansy looks at your stiff, flustered composure and orders for you. watching the waiter walk away,“are you okay baby,” she asks with an innocent tone.

to answer her question, no. you were most certainly not okay. you knew you were soaked through your underwear and possibly even through your dress and all you could think was about sitting on her face. you look up at her and stare at her glossy pump lips as she sips on her wine.

“i’m perfectly fine,” you say unconvincingly. pansy only replies with a hum and you knew she knew you were full of shit. you had spent the whole evening wiggling around in your seat- but you also knew that if you were to act up in public then you would never get her to relieve your problem. in fact, she’d probably make it worse and edge you on all night.

she starts to ramble on about wanting to have a get together with old friends and how much she misses everyone. looking at her chest, you let out an involuntary whine. covering your mouth quickly, you look up to pansy giving you a smile. it was only then that you realized she knew exactly what she was doing. she knew how much you loved her in that dress and those heels would add to her already bossy aesthetic.

“pans, stop it.” you plead.

“what was that? are you trying to tell me what to do? what are you even implying? all i’m trying to do is have a nice evening with my girl.”

bullshit, you thought to yourself. giving in, you start to twine your legs between hers and give her puppy dog eyes. propping your elbows on the table, you rest your face in your hands and look up at her.

“stop. it.” she says while throwing you a warning look. before you could reply, the waiter come up and starts setting down your meals. feeling pansy’s foot snake up to your thigh she starts rubbing it slowly. clenching your thighs, you wrap a leg around hers to keep her foot in place on your heat.

watching your waiter walk away, you try to secretly move down your underwear, letting them sit at your knees. moving your hips forward, you grind against her heel feeling the tip run against your clit. pansy catches on and starts moving her foot up and down. putting your head down, you try to hide your whimpers but you were reaching your climax fast and pansy knew it. drawing back her foot, she goes back to normal and starts eating her food.

“momma,” you say under your breath.

“needy slut. take what you got and be grateful. behave yourself before i take you on my heel in front of everyone.”

the rest of your dinner was spent trying your best to act unaffected. you were still pent up and pansy said nothing of it afterwards. she would go back to rambling on about something so insignificant even though she knew what you truely wanted and it certainly wasn’t to hear about how her nosey coworker and how her husband is doing.

getting in the car, you sit in the passengers seat and try to sit as close to her as possible. grabbing her hand, you place it on your upper thigh and let out a whine.

“please momma,” you beg but she ignores your pleads once again and snatches her hand off of your leg. “needy whore. you couldn’t even wait until we got home. maybe i should’ve let you get off on my heel in front of everyone.”

that shut you up quick. you knew her boundaries and how far to push and you were worried that if you pushed any farther she would have you up all night with no relief. you mutter a quick, “yes ma’am” and spend the rest of the car ride being silent.

getting out of the car in front of your shared home, you thought she would pay no attention to you but she grasps you hand and walks you inside. “do you want any wine? i never got to finish since we had to leave earlier because someone decided to act up.” simply shaking your head, you follow her out to the deck in the backyard and sit next to her on the bench.

“what are you doing?” she asks, snapping at you abruptly.

“um... sitting next to you?”

“well not less than an hour ago you were so inclined on sitting on my heel. go on then,” she says sticking out her foot. you stare blankly and see your leftover juices from earlier. bashfully, you kneel down and sit on the tip. “go on then, be a good girl for momma.”

she didn’t have to tell you twice before you started grinding on her. wrapping your arms around her calf for stability, you wiggle your hips, unashamed. the tip of the heel was hitting right on your digit causing you to let out a moan. you feel her push her heel up, pressing harder, making you shudder.

you look up at her briefly to see her sipping her wine with a smirk on her face, showing how much she was enjoying this. noticing your movements slowing down, “well don’t stop now, bunny. put on a show for me. i’m enjoying this immensely.” starting your speed back up your jump up and down slightly, trying to cause more friction.

“more momma, i need more,” you say looking up at her. you watch as she pops out her lower lip and you can see her fake sympathy all over her face. “oh, is that so? come on the baby. come sit in mommas lap.” you were quick to oblige and got off her heel but she pushed her heel to your shoulder, making you kneel again.

“i said you could come in my lap but i didn’t say you could lose your manners,” she says taking her heel off your shoulder, “you’ve made a mess. do clean it up for me.” her heel now propping up your chin, you grab her ankle and lick the shoe clean slowly, watching her reaction.

“good girl, y/n. i knew you could behave well. i don’t know what got into you at dinner,” she says shaking her head. you stand up and fall directly into her lap and straddle her. she grabs your hips and pulls you even closer, connecting your lips.

testing the waters, you push in your tongue earning a moan from her as she grips onto your behind. she starts to bounce her legs, pushing pressure on your clit. feeling her back away suddenly, “don’t think you’re getting away that easy, bunny. you still have yet to have your punsishment. bend over for me, yeah? i’ll make it quick and easy for you since you’ve proven you can be a good girl.”

before you had a chance to speak, pansy had yanked you and forced you over her lap. with your lower stomach resting on her thighs, you grabbed onto her legs for support. feeling fast slap to your behind you try to push back your hand as you feel the sting.

you feel the slash of her hand a couple of times as you try to muffle your whines in her dress. you feel her stop and suddenly rub you softly as she shushes you. “it’s okay, baby. you did so well. and now i can reward you good you’re being, yeah?”

she pulls you up and positions you in her lap as you instinctively wrap your legs around her waist. feeling her stand up, you wrap your arms around her neck and shove your head in her hair. she walks you into your room and sets your gently on your bed. “are you okay pretty girl? momma wasn’t too harsh was she?” she asks sweetly while caressing your sides.

rapidly shaking your head, you grab her hand and place it on your center trying to show her what you want. after placing a kiss on your temple she pulls off your panties and starts rubbing your digit it circles. grabbing onto her hair, you pull her towards you and connect your lips. your hips buck up as you grind onto her hand needing release.

hearing her click her tongue, she swiftly moved positions, placing her heat on yours. feeling her wetness, you try to rub your clit against hers. frantically swiveling your hips back and forth, the room is filled with both of your moans.

“fuck, bunny. just like that baby. feel so- so good,” you hear pansy praise. grabbing onto her thigh for stability, you almost manically move your hips. “cum with me, pretty girl” you hear pansy as she moves her hand back to your center, circling your clit to push you over the edge.

“mommy, i’m gonna-” you cut off feeling both you and pansy gush onto each other. both falling limp, you feel her move to fall directly atop of you, both too fucked out to clean up. kissing your shoulder, she mutters a soft, “i love you y/n,” before falling asleep in your arms.

#pansy parkinson smut #pansy smut #pansy parkinson x reader #pansy parkinson x you #pansy parkinson #pansy x reader #hp smut #pansy x you

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vvienne · 4 years ago

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SANGCHENG FIC RECS

flight of a one-winged dove by bloodletter

Talking at someone is only fun for so long. That's all being a sect leader is: talking and talking to people bound by courtesy to listen to you. It's so fucking dull. A relief, then, to face one’s equal, and no less an old friend who is inclined to interrupt you whenever you ramble. He likes it. It’s one of Jiang Cheng’s best qualities.

In the years after Guanyin Temple, Nie Huaisang attends to unfinished business.

whipped by reindeercolin

Jiang Cheng blinks. “Dammit, they do think you’re dating one of us! I hate it when Wei Wuxian is right.” “Excuse me?” Nie Huaisang gives him an incredulous look. “First of all, they think I’m dating you, and if anything, they’re getting more aggressive!”

(or, the one in which Jiang Cheng has too many relatives, not enough patience, goes through a brother-divorce and finds out he has a boyfriend - in that order, more or less.)

Ponder the Manner of Things by Pip (Moirail)

It's not that Jiang Cheng can't do a quadruple flip followed by a triple toeloop. It's that his mother seems to think that's still not good enough.

Jiang Cheng is grateful that Huaisang doesn’t have the same kind of family life that he does, all - messy with expectations and cravings for closeness and nothing but vague filial piety where love is meant to be.

a matter of time and organ donation by nev_longbottom

This is it. The call he’s been waiting for. His brother had ‘an accident’ or ‘died in his sleep’ or some other lie to cover up the murder.

“Please, Mingjue is missing. He got into one of his moods and he was gone when I came back from grocery shopping. He’s not answering his phone. I don’t know if he left or was kidnapped or if something else happened. Huaisang, please, if you’ve heard anything,” Meng Yao begs.

Nie Huaisang hunts his brother's killer.

no tip necessary by tattletold

With all the nervousness of a virgin in a whorehouse, Jiang Cheng closes the door behind himself and enters, sitting on the low seat across from the escort. The pretty young man keeps his face hidden behind the delicate fan, and Jiang Cheng thinks for a moment that he recognizes the design painted onto it now that he’s closer.

It’s only when he lowers the fan and opens his eyes, wide, does Jiang Cheng paralyze with realization.

They speak at the same time in equally horrified tones.

“Jiang Cheng?”

“Nie Huaisang?”

Your Place in the Family of Things by raisedbyhyenas

No matter what happens, no matter the circumstances, Wei Wuxian will always leave and Jiang Cheng will always get stuck trying to rebuild from whatever’s left.

*************

In which Jiang Cheng makes friends; gets a cat; begins to rebuild a relationship; and maybe, possibly, potentially, learns a little bit how to be happy.

sigh yourself to sleep by merthurlin

“Let me take care of you, A-Cheng.”

No one—no one has ever said that, not to Jiang Cheng. He wasn’t a very sickly child, true, but the few times he remembered being sick it was never—he had a-jie, and later on he had Wei Wuxian, for what it was worth, but he never—

halcyon days by serein

They're in a forest, it seems just the two of them.

"You have to be patient," Nie Huaisang says, "I once waited for three days to catch a sparrow."

"Three days?" Jiang Cheng replies, sceptical. He can't imagine Nie Huaisang having the attention span for that.

"It's not that hard," Nie Huaisang says, "if you know what they want, and find a way to get it for them."

[JC stumbles across an array and gets physically de-aged to be 16/17. NHS kindly offers his help to an old friend, but things... escalate.]

To Distraction by isozyme

It’s the third night of Yunmeng’s kite festival celebrations. Nie Huaisang has come visiting, eager to partake in the food, the arts, and Jiang Cheng.

Jiang Cheng wants to forget. Nie Huaisang has some new lube and wants to see if he can put his whole fist in somebody’s ass.

Lights, Camera, Kiss by MissMagus

When Nie Huaisang gets paired with straight porn star Jiang Cheng for a five-part series, he’s sure it will be an utter disaster. Until the cameras start rolling and their chemistry alights like wildfire.

(Or, the five times Nie Huaisang and Jiang Cheng have sex for their job, and the first time they have sex outside of it.)

Only the Shallow by hamburglar

When Nie Huaisang gets bored and convinces Jiang Cheng to make out with him, he’s probably not expecting to still be dealing with the guy 16 years later.

OR the story where Jiang Cheng goes into: the Cloud Recesses, denial, some bushes, the private porn library at the Unclean Realm, and subspace.

Blind for Love by manamune

Jiang Cheng is poisoned with an aphrodisiac and needs to orgasm repeatedly in order to flush it from his system.

The first person he thinks of going to for help is Nie Huaisang, who does what any good friend would do: he shoves his three decades worth of feelings for Jiang Cheng deep into the recesses of his mind, locks them up so he can pretend they don’t exist, and then fucks him so hard that he passes out.

Descending by lightningwaltz

“I want to… to not be embarrassed.”

“To not be embarrassed during what?”

“During sex.” There. Jiang Cheng can say it. “In general. Also with you right now.”

“Very good.”

“When did you become so authoritative?” Jiang Cheng wants to sound irked, but can’t quite manage anything beyond nervous curiosity.

dark water by Morgan (duckwhatduck)

There are words, somewhere, for this. Words that would put a shape to the thing that sits between them, would seal their understanding. There are words for sympathy, for friendship, for understanding, for that touch, for this feeling.

Jiang Cheng can feel them, somewhere, fluttering formless at the back of his throat, squirming under his ribcage, but he cannot grasp them. They swim beneath the surface, fish in muddy water - and like fish, they will dart away if he grabs for them incautiously, and leave him nothing but cold splashes and grit.

Or: Why talk about things when you could fuck about it instead?

never knew i was a dancer by isozyme

“What’s a stone butch and why aren’t they real?” Jiang Cheng asks, too buzzed to care too much about not being up on lesbian culture.

Huaisang pats Jiang Cheng on the no-man’s-land between her boobs and her shoulder. “You’re so useless, Jiang Cheng. A stone butch is a fictional hottie who doesn’t make you do any work at all, just wants to give head and fuck you stupid on her strap.”

“Fictional?” Jiang Cheng echoes, having - not a moment, per se, but sort of a problem where her thoughts are going too fast for her poor drunken brain to keep up with.

“Nobody actually wants to fuck a chick who’s too lazy to eat you out after,” Huaisang mumbles.

After leaving Wei Ying and Lan Zhan’s bachelorette party, Jiang Cheng and Nie Huaisang decide to experiment with some outdated stereotypical lesbian sex roles.

lights out by rynleaf

“Nie-zongzhu makes the most sense,” Sect Leader Yao nods sagely, to murmurs of assent across the Jin Sect’s gold gilded banquet hall. Jin Ling, clad in opulent robes that look somewhat comical on a boy of sixteen, inclines his head as his scribe makes a notation, and the noise rises as sect leaders pat themselves and each other on the back for a decision well made.

Jiang Cheng groans and downs his cup of wine in one go.

In which the Sect Leaders elect a new Chief Cultivator.

shadow eternal by rynleaf

“You want me to distract the Chief Cultivator from the Annual Cultivation Conference, so you and other sect leaders can… what. Sign contracts without adult supervision?”

“If Jiang-zongzhu is amenable,” Sect Leader Ouyang repeats with a nod.

Jiang Cheng pinches the bridge of his nose. The pressure he felt building behind his eyes all morning is swiftly coalescing into a bitch of a headache. “Just what do you all think I’m capable of?”

Sect Leader Ouyang bows with a cheerful smile. “We have utmost faith in Sandu Shengshou’s abilities.”

In which a night hunt ends in disaster, Jiang Cheng catches a glimpse of Nie Huaisang's heart, and feelings are discussed after a certain fashion.

Four Days in Lanling by halotolerant

Nie Huaisang looks at him. ‘You are confusing me, Clan Leader Jiang, perhaps I misunderstand, but…’

‘You didn’t misunderstand. You don’t misunderstand. You understand all of it.’ For six months Jiang Cheng has been mulling this over, and now with Nie Huaisang in front of him he can’t figure out if he most wants to knock him down or kneel at his feet. What he does is try and breathe. Clench his hands at his sides. ‘And now I am going to ask you to do something for me. You have to do something for me. You have to help Jin Ling.’

Lean for Love Forever by Pip (Moirail)

Having a crush on your roommate is really embarrassing, except that's apparently the opposite of a problem. Jiang Cheng can't deny that's pretty convenient.

Wei Ying holds it up, a series of straps and buckles and velcro and wow, really a lot of leather. It has absolutely no conceivable form beyond tangled.

Nie Huaisang opens the door at exactly the moment that Wei Ying holds the thing up to Jiang Cheng’s chest, as if he’s trying to imagine how exactly it would fit onto a person, and it falls into a tangled pile between them while they stare at Huaisang in mild mortification.

acquired momentum by mongrelmind

Had Madam Yu known that this is where her son would end up, she would have gouged his eyes out with her bracelet before he made the grave mistake of looking in the direction of Nie Huaisang.

in which Nie Huaisang has an art show, Jiang Cheng is begrudgingly topless*, and there are. Shenanigans.

*Nie Huaisang excluded.

#sangcheng #mdzs #mdzs recs #fic recs #jiang cheng #nie huaisang #ill probably add more fics when I read more fics

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tsarisfanfiction · 4 years ago

Text

A Little Fall Of Rain

Fandom: Thunderbirds Are Go Rating: Gen Genre: Family Characters: Scott, John

Here is my contribution to @tagminibang! My artist was the absolutely fantastic @chenria and you can find her accompanying art over here. Something nice and family friendly from us here (please don’t mind the title, it has nothing to do with a certain musical song), and of course some good old Scott&John because who doesn’t love that?

John’s pulled one of his disappearing acts again, and Scott can’t relax until he knows where he’s gone.

People. There were people everywhere, all dressed to the nines and peacocking around. Nothing particularly unusual for an event hosted by Lady Penelope Creighton-Ward, where no-one in attendance was worth less than at least ten million dollars apiece and appearing to be the poorest in the room would make you a target for the vampires of the elite.

It was a gauntlet Scott would have gladly accepted, not particularly bothered by how others perceived him and his wealth, except the problem with being a Tracy was that his status of multi-billionaireness was well known, and he was actually richer than most of the aristocracy in attendance, even if there were a few Old Money families that looked down their noses at the Tracys for being New Money.

Still, the buffer of their wealth was, at least, sparing his brother from being preyed upon as the poor, charity case invited to look good. Scott wasn’t sure who the actual poorest person in the room was, but anything to keep at least some of the pressure of the occasion off of John was always worth it.

It was a well known fact that John despised this sort of event. Too many people, too much noise and gravity, too many expected conversations and a lot of interest in the elusive Tracy. Scott still wasn’t sure why Lady Penelope insisted he attend these things, and knew that John was going to hide himself up on Thunderbird Five for at least a month and come down for absolutely nothing or no-one as soon as he escaped the party. She called it good for him, and a breath of fresh air, and Scott only let it slide because John never actually said no.

Speaking of his brother, he’d once again lost sight of the distinctive ginger hair amongst the vibrant colours of the event. Hopefully, that meant that John was just in hiding, rather than the chance he’d been dragged into a conversation out of Scott’s current sight. He glanced around the room again, just to be sure, and when no flash of ginger caught his eye, set his shoulders and beelined for their host.

Resplendent in a stunning light pink ballgown, elegant hands covered with equally elegant white gloves and hair coiffed into something gravity-defying yet somehow not at all outrageous, Lady Penelope was entertaining an elderly woman who Scott had been briefly introduced to earlier in the event, some hours ago, as the Duchess of Royston. As far as the British aristocrats seemed to go, she seemed quite amicable, so Scott had no qualms about stepping in as their conversation paused.

“Sorry to interrupt,” he said, “but have you seen John recently?”

“Have you lost him?” Lady Penelope asked, sounding the faintest bit amused. If it was anyone else, Scott would have been annoyed at that, but a longstanding friendship with the Lady told him there was no malice or judgement behind it. It was the amusement of someone who knew how much John hated crowds, and how much Scott could, according to his brothers, hover. “I’m afraid I haven’t seen him recently.”

The answer wasn’t surprising, but it was a little disappointing.

“The redheaded young man?” the Duchess asked, and Scott turned to her. “I do believe I saw him heading for the doors earlier.” She gestured to the small side door that led out of the ballroom and, if Scott’s memory served, towards the gardens.

John was likely hiding, then.

Scott smiled at both women. “Thank you,” he said, inclining his head a little towards the older of the two. “I’ll leave you to your conversation. Sorry again for the interruption.”

“What a charming young man,” he heard as he walked away. “Penelope, I know it’s not my place to say, but you could do far worse than a man like that.”

Scott picked up the pace a little, determined to get out of earshot of whatever reply to that Lady Penelope would make, and making a note to never let Gordon know.

The rich like to talk to the rich, and although Scott was on a mission to find and check on his brother, he was waylaid by at least three other people all wanting to discuss all manner of things from International Rescue to, disconcertingly, his ongoing bachelorship before he was able to slip through the door and head down the corridor.

Soundproofing cut off the hubbub of conversation the moment the door clicked shut behind him, proving an excellent argument for why John would come this way, and Scott followed the hallway until he found a bay window that overlooked one of the many gardens in the Creighton-Ward estate.

John was perched on the window sill, although window seat was probably a more accurate term, looking out at the gentle rain falling from the sky. Raindrops raced each other down the panes of glass, and Scott silently settled next to him, waiting to be acknowledged.

It didn’t take long. “I’m fine,” his brother said quietly, still looking out the window rather than turning to face him. Scott hadn’t expected him to. “You can go back.”

Scott let out a wry chuckle. “The hot topic right now seems to be how eligible a bachelor I am,” he said, leaning forwards on his knees and watching his brother out of the corner of his eye. “If you don’t mind, I think I’d quite like to stay here until they move on to other things.”

His brother let out a hmm, sounding thoroughly amused at that, and Scott rolled his eyes. He knew full well that John was more than happy for him to be the target of that particular type of conversation, because it meant most of them would forget to ask him the same questions. Sibling solidarity only went so far, and perhaps even more so than the rest of his brothers, John was all too willing to throw him under the bus to evade the limelight himself.

“If they follow you here, I am leaving,” John threatened mildly. “And then you will not be welcome to follow me.” It wasn’t an empty threat, but that didn’t matter because Scott would always use himself as bait if it meant a brother could escape a bad situation. Besides, John knew Lady Penelope’s manor far better than he did, and Scott knew if John really wanted to hide, even he wouldn’t be able to find him until the ginger was ready to be found.

It wouldn’t be the first time, after all. John had never been a fan of social situations and had mastered the art of disappearing young. Scott had many memories of running around frantically, trying in vain to find where his brother had got to after taking his eye off of him for two seconds. For someone with such vibrant natural colouring, John was unfairly good at the vanishing act.

He sighed and settled back against the window pane more comfortably. At least John was old enough now to look after himself if he did vanish, and would always come home eventually - even if it was only a necessary stop on his way back to Thunderbird Five and the stars while he recuperated from socialising. It was a marked improvement from when he’d vanish as a child and leave everyone in a panic until he reappeared hours later.

Scott had never quite shaken the instinct to panic when he vanished, no matter how old and self-sufficient his brother was now.

“I can hear you thinking from here,” John said suddenly, and Scott glanced up at him again. He was still watching the rain out the window, seemingly disinterested in paying any attention to his older brother - aside from the comment, which made it perfectly clear that John was, in fact, keeping track of him with at least part of that big brain of his. “I told you I’m fine.”

“I know you are,” he assured him, feeling the cool of the glass seep towards his scalp from where he was resting his head against the window.

John gave a considering hum. “In that case, I’ll assume you’re working yourself into a panic unnecessarily.”

Scott huffed, unwilling to concede the point. “I am not working myself into a panic,” he retorted, a little defensively.

His brother finally turned his head away from the window slightly, enough for one turquoise eye to come into view. The accompanying ginger eyebrow rose in challenging disbelief and Scott scowled in response.

“I was just thinking about all the vanishing acts you tend to pull at things like this,” he admitted after a moment. The visible turquoise eye rolled at him before John turned back to face the window. He didn’t say anything in response, but he didn’t need to; his body language broadcasted perfectly well that he thought Scott was being an idiot.

Scott was used to that attitude - none of his brothers ever seemed to fully appreciate what it was like to be their big brother, after all. Gordon might proudly claim that his grey hairs were all down to his fish of a brother, but the truth of the matter was that they’d all contributed.

Still, Scott wouldn’t change any of them for the world.

Raindrops raced down the large window, merging and lingering and swallowing smaller ones before darting several inches further down in a blink of an eye. It was a mesmerising sight; no wonder John was so captivated by the weather.

Then again, he didn’t get rain in space.

Scott was on his feet before his mind caught up. His movement caught John’s attention, judging by the way the single, turquoise eye reappeared to regard him once more.

“Going back already?” his brother asked. “I thought you were hiding from the discussions about your eligible bachelorship.” There was no sympathy at all in John’s voice, just an undercurrent of amusement. Scott suspected he wouldn’t be hearing the end of it for a while.

“No,” he said truthfully, which was apparently unexpected enough for John to look away from the window completely.

“Then where are you going?” his brother asked. John was normally far too perceptive for Scott’s liking, and he probably shouldn’t be relishing catching him out as much as he was.

“Come on,” Scott invited in answer, tilting his head towards the window. “Let’s go.”

John glanced back towards the window, raising an eyebrow at the rain still falling. “You want to go outside?”

“Why not?” Scott shrugged. “No-one’s going to chase us out there.”

“Because their clothes would get ruined,” John pointed out. “Like ours will.”

Scott rolled his eyes. He wasn’t so attached to the suit he was currently wearing that he’d mourn the loss, and he knew John felt similarly about his own formal clothes.

“They’re replaceable,” he pointed out. “So, are you coming?”

John’s arguments didn’t fool him one bit - one thing his brother truly missed when he was amongst the stars was the cool sensation of rain on his skin, and Scott suspected that the only reason he’d been sat in the bay window instead of somewhere in the Creighton-Ward’s impressive grounds was because he’d known Scott would come looking for him sooner or later, and would have panicked if he couldn’t find him.

Sure enough, with one last sigh that was entirely put-upon, John extended his long legs and made his way to his feet. “Lead the way.”

Scott wasn’t as familiar with the manor as his brother, but he had a pretty good idea where most of the external doors were. John stayed at his shoulder as they passed through the hallways, bereft of any of the other guests, who were all no doubt still gossiping in the ballroom, and found a door that led outside.

The rain wasn’t a monsoon, but it was steady, leaving the sky heavy and grey, and misting out the trees on the far edge of the lawn. Scott lingered in the threshold of the door for a moment, watching the weather, but his brother had no such hesitation.

A little brother he might be, but John had never needed Scott to lead the way. With the assurance that Scott now knew where he was, and wouldn’t be hunting him down frantically, he strode out past him, the fabric covering his shoulder just brushing Scott’s, and out into the rain.

Scott lingered a moment longer, watching the way John tilted his face up slightly to greet the rain, the ginger curl of his bangs losing some of its volume as it dampened. John didn’t beam like their brothers when he was happy, but there was a relaxation in his face and a draining of tension in his body that told Scott that he’d got it right. John really had wanted to go out in the rain.

When his brother’s vibrant eyes slid closed, he took the final step outside himself, feeling the cool raindrops caressing his own skin and seeping into his hair. His hair gel was going to wash out if he stayed out here for too long, but that was a small price to pay to see John enjoying himself down on Earth.

So was the suit. The already black fabric of his jacket darkened even further with water almost immediately, and he knew that by the time John was ready to go inside again, it would be completely ruined. As he’d said to his brother, though, the suits were replaceable.

John’s happiness was not. Scott would ruin a hundred jackets if it meant seeing John so relaxed and content.

Jacketless, his brother’s shirt was quickly becoming soaked through, the white material clinging to his body - the same way his vibrant hair was starting to plaster to his scalp - gaining hints of translucency, and the thought crossed Scott’s mind that he’d have to make sure John didn’t get sick later. The astronaut didn’t seem to care about that, though, standing stock still for several minutes with his hands loosely hanging by his side and his face tilted upwards.

Scott hung back, several paces away but still outside in the rain himself. Cool droplets trickled down the back of his neck, originating somewhere around his hairline, and he could tell even without raising a hand to check that his own hair was plastering itself to his scalp in much the same way as John’s. One droplet ran down from his forehead and caught the corner of his eye, tangled up in eyelashes, and Scott blinked twice to clear it. Reluctantly it got the message and carried on down his face, running over his cheek and trailing down towards his chin.

They didn’t get rain like this at home. English rain was strange, and definitely nothing like the tropical rains Tracy Island witnessed. Even Kansas weather had been different to this. The water was cool and refreshing on his skin, and after several moments Scott took another couple of steps forwards, towards his brother.

He didn’t enter his personal space, though. If John wanted him there, he would make it clear - most likely by moving himself until he was within arm’s reach of Scott. As they’d come out here to escape the crowds, however, Scott deemed that unlikely. Instead, he wandered past him, away from the manor and large ballroom windows. If the wrong person looked out and saw them, their little rainy peace would be broken by someone else who cared less for their clothes than chasing Tracys.

Scott made sure to keep John in view, not prepared to hunt his brother down if the ginger pulled another disappearing act, even as he found a lone tree standing proud in the middle of the manicured lawn and slipped around it, allowing the trunk to conceal him from anyone glancing outside.

Exactly what type of tree it was, he didn’t know, but it was large and broad, boughs extending out above his head and providing a meagre shelter from the rain. It was the same as the trees that made up the woodland at the far edge of the lawn - also large and proud, but with enough space between some of them to hide a Thunderbird. His own ‘bird lurked inside, concealed from view and waiting to carry the two of them back home the next morning.

Tonight, Lady Penelope had insisted, they would stay with her, and Scott had no reason to decline. He did, however, hope that it was an invitation that hadn’t been extended to any of the other guests. Evading their apparent fixation with his marriage status - or lack thereof - was not something he wanted to have to spend all night and breakfast doing as well.

No matter how amused John might be at the whole affair.

Speaking of John, his brother appeared to have noticed that he’d moved, because he’d opened his eyes and started moving forwards himself.

“I thought I was supposed to be the one hiding from the party,” the ginger commented, his voice dry and at odds with the wet shirt he was wearing. The white had gone well and truly translucent now, clinging to his body in a way that Scott knew from experience would get John hounded by half the party the next time they saw him.

He made a mental note to sacrifice his jacket in John’s direction before they went back in. It wouldn’t be a perfect fit, but it would at least keep the attention off of him long enough for John to scrounge up a change of clothes.

“Yeah, well,” he replied, shrugging. “It wouldn’t matter which of us was hiding if they spotted the other, would it?”

John let out a small chuckle in response, rounding the tree in its entirety and therefore putting himself out of sight as well. “Are you sure it’s not just because you don’t want them badgering you about being single?”

He huffed in response, crossing his arms and leaning back against the trunk. The bark rubbed against the back of his jacket, but he ignored it. The rain had already done enough damage - what was a little more?

“My relationship status is none of their business,” he grumbled, shooting his younger brother a considering look. “Wait until they start on you.”

The smirk he got in return didn’t make him feel any better.

“They won’t give me a second glance while you’re around, big brother,” John pointed out with the air of someone who knew exactly what was up, and was quietly smug about it. “No-one’s interested in the spare Tracy.”

Scott rolled his eyes. “You know, technically you’re my heir,” he reminded him. It did nothing to douse the smug smirk his brother was sending his way.

“They don’t think like that,” John shrugged confidently. He was still out from underneath the protection of the boughs, rain falling on his skin and leaving trails of water across it. Scott watched a raindrop run right to the tip of his nose and hang there; the astronaut didn’t even seem to notice, even though it made Scott’s own nose twitch empathetically. “The only heirs they’re interested in are the unborn ones you don’t have because you’re still an eligible bachelor.”

Urgh. Scott pulled a face. “Did you have to put it like that?”

John’s ongoing smirk confirmed that yes, he did have to phrase it like that. Little brothers - who wanted them?

Scott refused to give John any satisfaction by saying that out loud, although he suspected that didn’t actually matter. If there was anyone who had mastered the art of mind-reading, Scott would put John right at the top of the suspect list.

“Well,” John said after a moment, shifting his weight. “I’m going to go for a walk. Are you coming, or would you rather hide under the tree?”

“I’m sheltering,” Scott corrected. John made an uh huh noise in the back of his throat which he purposefully ignored. Still, if John was offering company, instead of retreating into his own personal space, then Scott wasn’t going to turn that down. The problem with John living in space was that he just didn’t get to see this particular little brother in person as much as he’d like.

He pushed off from the tree, straightening up and shoving his hands in his pockets as he took the couple of short steps back out into the rain. John hadn’t bothered to wait for him, and he had to jog a couple more paces before he was at his brother’s side.

It felt like the rain had got heavier, but the droplets were still cool and refreshing on his face, even if he could feel his hair wilting under the weight. Beside him, John’s hair had all but lost its usual curl, vibrant strands of ginger instead plastered to his forehead. His brother didn’t seem to care at all.

Despite inviting him along, John didn’t seem particularly inclined towards conversation as he picked his way across the expansive grounds of the Creighton-Ward manor. It was clear that this was far from his brother’s first time doing so; while Scott started getting a little turned around by all the identically pruned bushes and perfect flowerbeds, John continued unerringly as though it was his ridiculously large garden.

Not that Scott could really comment on the size of the Creighton-Ward estate when his own home consisted of an entire volcano. Both the ranch and the Kansas farm spanned equally large acreage; the Tracys had never been a stranger to calling huge swathes of land home.

John had easily spent enough time in this manor during his Oxford days to have the entire estate mapped out in that impressive brain of his. Scott resolved to never play hide and seek with him here.

The silence that hung between them was a comfortable one. On some levels, it was more touching and heartfelt than if John had wanted to talk - John was a huge fan of personal space, and being invited to share it, trusted to share it, when he had so clearly hit his socialising quota already was akin to an honour.

Rain continued to fall, Scott’s jacket feeling more and more sodden by the minute, but John never headed for anything remotely resembling shelter. The weather wasn’t particularly warm, either. By English standards it might have been passable, but being used to the tropics meant that Scott found it decidedly on the cool side.

John seemed unaffected, but then again John spent most of his time in a rigidly controlled environment and hated the heat. Scott still hoped he’d be able to persuade Parker to get them both a hot drink when they re-entered the manor building. Then again, he wouldn’t put it past the older man to bundle them straight to their rooms with layers of blankets and disapproving mumbles. The former crook liked to pretend he was as tough as nails - and in some respects he was - but he was also quick to fuss over the few friends he had.

Being counted amongst that number was almost as high an honour as being invited to share John’s personal bubble.

Sunbeams poked out from behind the grey clouds as they were strolling through one of several rose gardens - or maybe it was the same one and John had led them around in circles a few times. In answer, the rain faded away into nothing and the world hung, heavy and still. John stopped walking, and Scott followed suit.

Above them, the clouds were dispersing. It seemed that the rain was over, at least for now, although the world around them shimmered a little like crystal as sun caught beads of water clinging to the flowers, the grass, the trees. John glistened as well, his hair transformed into a burning halo as the sun caught the water plastering it to his scalp.

Hands in his pockets and face once again tilted to the sky, Scott’s little brother appeared to be considering something. What, there was no point asking. If John wanted him to be part of the decision making process, he’d say so. Scott suspected he was debating if he wanted to stay outside or duck inside the manor to escape the reappearing sun.

John missed the rain on Thunderbird Five. He did not miss the sunburn.

Sure enough, after a moment his brother turned to face him.

“I’m heading back inside,” John said. “Are you done hiding from your eligible bachelorness yet or are you going to stay out here?”

Scott huffed at him, narrowing his eyes in displeasure at the jab. John really wasn’t going to be letting that go any time soon.

“They’ll have moved topics by now,” he replied, a lot more confidently than he felt. In all honesty, he had no idea how long it would be the hot topic for, but if he stayed out later than John he’d never live it down.

“That topic won’t be dropped until you’re married with kids,” his brother pointed out. Scott scowled. “But if you’re sure you’re ready to go back in…” He trailed off meaningfully and, without waiting for Scott, started striding back towards the manor.

Not wanting to let his brother out of his sight, and maybe a little unsure of the paths back, Scott lengthened his stride to catch up with him again. Turquoise eyes glanced sideways at him, and John’s face settled into subtle amusement.

Scott decided it was best for his pride if he didn’t ask what was funny.

He glanced up at the sky as they walked. The shimmer of moisture in the air was fading as the sun grew stronger and the clouds continued on their merry way to deposit rain on some other part of the English countryside. It wouldn’t be raining again just yet.

His foot caught something hard and he stumbled. Instantly a vice-like grip appeared on his arm, yanking him back upright and steadying him.

“And you call me the clumsy one,” John commented lightly. “Watch where you’re walking.”

Scott glared down at the flowerbed border he’d apparently walked into before switching targets to his brother. John, as always, seemed completely unperturbed at the look. Turquoise eyes looked him up and down, clearly making sure he hadn’t somehow hurt himself with his stumble, before the grip on his arm vanished and John continued down the path.

Sending another glare at the border, Scott followed.

Being behind John quickly brought back the reason why he’d been checking the sky. While the rain had stopped, the white shirt his brother was wearing was still very soaked through, with the consequences of that on full display. Scott shrugged out of his own, soaking wet, jacket.

“John,” he called, lengthening his strides to catch up. His brother paused and turned back to look at him quizzically, jumping as Scott draped the waterlogged jacket over his shoulders.

“What are you doing?” the astronaut asked, making to shrug the fabric off. “Carry your own jacket, Scott.”

Scott caught the fabric before it could fall to the ground. “John, you’re wearing a white shirt.”

A single eyebrow raised. “Your observational skills are unparalleled.”

Little brothers. Scott huffed. “And yours are lacking,” he retorted. “You wore a white shirt in the rain.”

John looked at him, puzzled, for a moment, before comprehension dawned across his face. A quick glance down had his pale skin reddening slightly.

“Oh.”

Scott shook his head fondly and draped the jacket around his brother’s shoulders again. This time it was gratefully accepted. They weren’t quite the same size, but Scott’s shoulders were the broader of the two, so while the fabric bunched a little oddly when John threaded his arms through the sleeves and fumbled the buttons until it was concealing as much of the wet white shirt as possible, it did at least fit. Scott was grateful it wasn’t Virgil.

“You might want to go and get changed into something dry,” he suggested. “Get out of those clothes.”

“I didn’t bring a spare suit,” John reminded him. “I don’t have anything else with me suitable for Lady P’s party.”

Scott rolled his eyes and started walking again. “Then just don’t come back to the party,” he said bluntly. “That’s not exactly a tragedy for you. You can see Lady Penelope again once it’s over - she won’t care what you’re wearing.”

“She will care,” John corrected, catching up to him. “She’ll judge my outfit and everything.” Despite the words being ones of apparent complaint, he didn’t actually seem that bothered about it. Then again, he had survived going to university with the woman. Their friendship was on a completely different level compared to the one the rest of the Tracys shared with her.

“Just go and get yourself out of those wet clothes and make yourself comfortable for the rest of the evening,” Scott sighed. “I’ll make your excuses.”

“If I need to get changed, why don’t you?” John challenged. Scott grinned at him and tapped his own shirt.

“Not white,” he pointed out. Well, admittedly, he would call it white, but according to Virgil it was cream, and according to the weather that combined with the covering jacket meant that it hadn’t gone the same way as John’s white shirt. “Ergo, still appropriate for polite company.”

John scrutinised him for several moments as they walked, as though he was trying to find an excuse why Scott’s outfit wasn’t appropriate any more.

“You’ll get sick if you stay in wet clothes too long,” he said eventually. “Make sure you come up and get changed soon.”

“I don’t have a spare suit, either,” Scott admitted. “I’ll be fine.” It couldn’t be that many more hours before the end of the party, surely…

“If you’re not up in half an hour I’m sending Parker to extract you,” John said firmly. “Virgil will have both our hides if you go home sick.”

“Half an hour?” Scott repeated. “I’ll be lucky to talk to Lady Penelope by then. You’ll have to give me longer than that.” There was no point telling John not to enlist Parker at all - his brother would hum non-committedly then do it anyway the instant he was out of earshot.

John scoffed. “You’ll find a way,” he said confidently. “Just flirt your way through the crowds like you normally do. Half an hour, then Parker will get involved.”

They’d arrived back at the manor itself, and John sent him one last smug grin before vanishing up what had to be a servant’s staircase before Scott could try another attempt to bargain for more time. With a quiet groan, Scott adjusted his damp tie and headed back towards the ballroom.

His wet - and likely bedraggled - appearance caused a stir when he re-entered the room. Conversations stopped, eyes stared, and then the whispering started. Well, he’d take them talking about him over attempts to restart the conversations about his relationship status.

He scanned the room for the tell-tale flash of pink, locating Lady Penelope just before she came to a stop in front of him.

“I was under the impression you were looking for John, not trying to impersonate a drowned rat,” the Lady commented lightly. “You also appear to have misplaced your jacket, Scott.”

He shrugged lazily. “John wanted to go outside.”

“I see.” From the fond look that flickered in her eyes, she probably did get it. The British aristocrat was the closest thing John had to a best friend, after all. “And where is John now?”

“Retiring for the evening,” Scott explained. “Or at least until the party’s over and the stars are out.”

Lady Penelope laughed a little at that. “I shouldn’t be surprised,” she agreed. “And what about you? I notice today’s main topic of discussion isn’t to your liking.” There was a twinkle of amusement in her eyes that was entirely too similar to John’s reaction.

Scott decided the best thing to do was ignore it.

“I should get changed,” he admitted. “I’ll see you after the party’s over?”

“I dare say you should,” Lady Penelope agreed, “before you turn my ballroom into a swimming pool. Very well, I’ll see you boys later.” She turned away, and immediately got caught in another conversation with a guest.

Scott took the opportunity to duck back out of the room, evading anyone who might want to corner him for further conversations that he really didn’t care for.

Parker was standing just outside the door.

“Ah, there you h’are,” the butler said as Scott narrowly avoided walking into him. “h’I h’understand you’re done for the h’evening?”

Scott checked his watch. “There’s no way it’s been half an hour already,” he said suspiciously.

“‘alf h’an hour since when?” Parker asked innocently. “Master John said nothing h’about h’a time limit.” No, of course John didn’t. Pesky little brother. “Well, h’as you h’appear to be trying to turn h’into a drowned rat, h’I’d say you need a nice warm drink h’and a change h’of clothes.”

“That’s the plan,” Scott admitted. “I’ll see you later, Parker.”

“That you will,” the older man agreed, and Scott paused with his foot on the bottom step of the staircase. “h’I’ll be bringing h’up some ‘ot chocolate for the pair h’of you in a few minutes. ‘Onestly, what were you thinking, going h’out h’in the rain like that?”

Scott shrugged. “John wanted to,” he said, before resuming his ascent of the staircase, knowing that Parker would make good on his promise and be up soon with the drinks.

The Creighton-Ward manor was huge, and the guest suites were equally so. There was no sharing of bedrooms when they stayed overnight, but as Scott entered the room designated as his, he discovered a brother lounging on his bed, tablet in hand. Ginger hair was ruffled and sticking up all over the place - a clear victim of a towel drying - and the soaked suit had been replaced by a much less formal shirt and jeans.

“Don’t you have your own room?” he asked, not breaking his stride as he headed for his overnight bag and pulled out a change of clothes.

“Parker’s bringing the drinks here,” John replied, not looking up from whatever it was he was reading. “It makes more sense for me to be here.” Scott huffed and worked his tie loose from around his neck.

“You just wanted to make sure I didn’t stay in the party,” he accused.

John didn’t deny it, and Scott rolled his eyes before heading into the ensuite to dry off and get changed into his more casual clothes. No more formal suit and tie for him tonight.

When he re-emerged several minutes later, his own hair rivalling John’s for towel-dried mess and begging for another round of brushing and hair gel, Parker had arrived with the promised steaming mugs of hot chocolate.

“Drink up, the both of you,” the man demanded. “Going h’out in the rain like that, I h’ask you.” He shook his head despairingly. “What will your Gran say h’if you go and get yourself sick?”

“We won’t get sick, Parker,” Scott said confidently, accepting his mug and letting the warmth seep from the ceramic into his fingers. “We didn’t get that wet.”

“Don’t h’underestimate the English weather,” Parker warned. “Drink that h’up and wrap h’up warm.”

John appeared silently at his elbow and claimed his own mug before retreating back to the bed. Scott watched him burrow his bare feet under the covers and huffed.

“That’s my bed, you know,” he complained. John lifted one shoulder in a shrug.

“So?”

“So, leave some room for me.” Mug in hand, Scott settled himself next to his brother, nudging him over gently. John obliged, and after a few moments of shifting around, the pair of them were sat shoulder to shoulder with their feet under the covers.

Parker eyed them approvingly, and then tossed a blanket over their laps as well.

“h’I’ll be back once the party’s h’over,” he told them. “Keep warm.”

“We’ll be fine,” Scott assured him. “You don’t need to worry about us.”

Blue eyes surveyed him suspiciously. “h’I know some people that’d disagree with that h’assessment, Mr Scott. But duty calls, h’I suppose.”

Parker was clearly reluctant to leave them for some reason, but he did begrudgingly go out the door, shutting it behind him and leaving the two brothers to their drinks.

The hot chocolate was, unsurprisingly, good, and Scott found himself draining the mug in record time. Beside him, John was almost as fast, and they set the mugs down on the bedside tables almost in unison.

“Parker makes the best hot chocolate,” John commented, and Scott couldn’t help but agree.

“He does,” he agreed. “I could go for another.”

“Well, then, I’m glad I finished mine before you got it into your head to steal it,” John said dryly. “You can ask him for another one later.”

“Yeah,” Scott said, leaning back against the headboard of the bed. “I might do that. This might all be overkill-” he gestured at the warm mugs and the blanket, subtly tucking them in the bed “-but even if we’re not going to get sick, that chocolate is worth it.”

The sneeze came out of nowhere. As did the second, and the third.

The fourth sneeze came from his brother, and Scott glanced over at him with a sinking feeling. Bright turquoise met his eyes, and John gave a wane smile before sneezing again.

“I think,” his brother said, before being interrupted by another sneeze, “that maybe this wasn’t so overkill after all.”

Scott buried his face in his hands. It did nothing to stop the next sneeze, and he groaned.

“You might be right,” he admitted. “Dammit. Virgil’s going to- achoo -kill us.”

John groaned.

#tag mini bang 2021 #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds are go fanfiction #tsari write fanfiction #scott tracy #john tracy #lady penelope creighton-ward #aloysius parker #a little fall of rain #thunderfluff

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morganaspendragonss · 4 years ago

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if something’s wrong you can count on me

special thanks to @trkstrnd for very kindly allowing me to take inspiration from and adapt one of their ideas!

@911lonestarangstweek day 2: Physical whump + “Does it hurt badly?”

five times carlos takes care of tk when he’s injured, and one time tk takes care of carlos

ao3 | 3.5k | 5+1 things

Getting TK to rest after bursting his stitches is an uphill battle, one Carlos only wins half the time. He’s currently losing, watching TK attempt to scrape some lunch together whilst he himself has practically been exiled to the couch.

Carlos isn’t blind; he sees the intermittent winces, hears the occasional pained mutter, and he wants nothing more than to go over and help, to kiss away the lines of TK’s face. But they’re still so new, and TK is still so skittish, so he doesn’t want to do anything that will push him away even more.

Still, he can’t help but worry, and a particularly sharp gasp has him half-rising from his seat. “TK?”

“I’m fine.”

It’s clearly a lie. TK’s paler than he was a second ago and he has a white-knuckled grip around the knife in his hand, which only starts to relax when he realises that Carlos is staring.

“You should be resting,” Carlos says, making his way over. “I can finish that.”

“I said I’m fine.”

“TK, it’s okay, please just sit down.” He reaches out to grab TK’s good shoulder, intending to force him to the couch if necessary, but TK jerks away the moment he makes contact. His hand - thankfully not the one holding the knife - flails in a wide arc, knocking the half-made sandwich to the floor.

Carlos is already bending to clear it up when TK makes a noise like a wounded animal and drops to the floor. In any other circumstance, Carlos might be tempted to leave him to it, but TK’s hands are visibly trembling and his breath is coming in sharp pants as he mutters quiet curses to himself. He takes TK’s hands in his own, holding on tighter when he tries to pull away.

“TK!” he calls, keeping his voice as steady as possible. “TK, you need to calm down. You’re going to hurt yourself. Come on, just follow my breathing, that’s it.”

It takes a long time, but eventually TK’s body loses some of its tension and he slumps back against the cabinets, closing his eyes. Carlos is surprised to see a tear slipping down his cheek, but TK wipes it away as quickly as it appears. His breathing is still carefully measured and he raises a hand to his chest, gently rubbing just over his wound.

“Are you okay?” Carlos asks, fear spiking. “It is your stitches, did they burst again? Do you need anything? Can I -”

“I’m fine,” TK interrupts, and Carlos would be more inclined to believe him if his expression wasn’t still tight with pain. “I just get a bit out of breath sometimes. Punctured lung, remember?”

Carlos grimaces. He does remember, all too well. “Which is exactly why you should be resting, especially after the solar storm.”

“I know,” TK sighs. “I hate being so useless all the time.”

“You’re not useless.”

TK cracks his eyes open, levelling Carlos with an unimpressed stare. “I couldn’t even make a fucking sandwich, Carlos. I’m useless.”

“You’re healing,” Carlos corrects. He leans over and places his hand over the one TK has on his chest, gripping it gently. “You know as well as I do that these things take time. You just have to remember that you have plenty of people who want to help you, including me, if you’ll let us.”

It takes a long moment, but eventually TK allows Carlos to help him stand up, rolling his eyes when he insists on helping him to the couch. “You’re so annoying,” he complains, though there’s no heat behind the words.

“Better get used to it,” Carlos replies, easing TK down and dropping a kiss on his nose. “I’m not going anywhere.”

ii.

When Carlos gets into bed and wraps his arms around TK like he always does, the last thing he expects to hear is a pained yelp from the other side of the bed. He immediately sits up, any tiredness he may have had completely gone, and flicks on the lamp, eyes widening at the sight that greets him.

TK is still fully dressed, but Carlos can still spy the mottled bruising creeping under his shirt. He gently pushes the hem up, gasping at the discolouration covering TK’s entire right side, and looks up at his boyfriend in horror.

“Don’t be mad,” TK says quickly, eyes pleading as they meet Carlos’s.

“I’m not - Why would I be mad?” Carlos asks, shaking his head. He waves his hands over TK’s side, not wanting to touch it and risk causing him any more hurt. “What the hell happened?”

“Floor collapsed under me,” TK explains, shrugging with his left shoulder. “And, before you say anything, no, I don’t need to go to the hospital. Tommy checked me out, it’s just a few bruises, I’m fine.”

“This isn’t just a few bruises, TK!” Carlos pinches the bridge of his nose, sighing. “Did you at least ice it?”

TK shrugs again. “At the station,” he says. “When I got back here, I was too tired, and it hurt too much to take my clothes off, so I just got into bed.”

“Por Dios,” Carlos mutters to himself. He closes his eyes for a brief moment, then pulls himself out of bed, frowning down at his accident-prone boyfriend. “Stay there.”

TK, naturally, doesn’t listen, attempting to push himself upright. “Where are you going?”

“Lie down. You’ll see.”

Carlos is only gone for two minutes; still, by the time he walks back in, ice packs and ointment in hand, TK is sitting up against the headboard, eyes closed in obvious pain. He rolls his eyes, but can’t suppress the exasperated smile that crosses his face as he rounds to TK’s side of the bed. He deposits the items on the bedside table then shakes TK’s good shoulder.

“Hey,” he murmurs. “Come on. Let’s get you sorted.”

TK peels his eyes open, pursing his lips when he catches sight of the ice packs. “Carlos, I’m -”

“If you say you’re fine, so help me, TK.”

TK glares, but doesn’t finish his sentence, which is something at least. Carlos helps him shift until he’s sitting on the edge of the bed, then eases him upright, wincing at the pained grunt TK lets out. When he doesn’t seem about to fall over, Carlos lets go, his hands moving to the hem of TK’s shirt, carefully sliding it off his body. He does the same with his sweats, only then allowing TK to collapse back down on the bed.

“Thank you,” TK says quietly.

“Of course.” Carlos leans over and grabs a pillow, positioning it to support TK as he encourages him to lie down again. He goes without complaint this time, smiling tiredly up at Carlos.

“Can we go back to sleep now?”

“No,” Carlos says, grinning at TK’s pout. He picks up the ice pack and ointment, moving to the other side of the bed and sliding in next to TK, sitting cross-legged at his back. He squeezes some of the ointment onto the worst of the bruises, then takes a deep breath before reaching to rub it in.

Carlos keeps his touch light, but TK still tenses as soon as he makes contact, eyes squeezing shut, breathing turning heavy. “Sorry.”

TK shakes his head. “It’s okay. You can keep going.”

Carlos goes as quickly as he can, grimacing every time he hits a particularly sore spot, sending another wave of pain through TK’s body. By the time he’s finished, TK’s teeth look liable to crack from the force with which he’s gritting them, but he hasn’t uttered a word of complaint.

“Almost there,” Carlos murmurs, cracking the ice packs. He lays them down across the bruising, and TK immediately relaxes, letting out a sigh of relief.

“Thank you,” TK says, sleep obviously pulling at him. “You didn’t have to do that.”

Carlos kisses him, then slides down in the bed and flicks off the light. “Get some rest.”

iii.

TK is asleep on the couch and Carlos is trying to catch up on the cleaning he’s neglected over the last couple of days when there’s a sudden cry from across the room. He looks up in time to see TK jerk upright, just barely managing to keep himself from falling to the floor.

“TK!” He rushes to his boyfriend’s side, hands hovering uncertainly as TK groans, head falling into his hands. “What happened? Are you okay?”

“It’s nothing,” TK grits out, though the tightness in his voice and expression says otherwise.

“I don’t think -”

“Carlos, please.” TK squints up at him, eyes watering and pleading with him. “Just, give me a minute.”

Carlos hesitates, but one more desperate look from TK has him nodding, straightening up and backing away. He goes back to his cleaning, but keeps one eye on his boyfriend the whole time, wishing there was something he could do to help. It’s been like this ever since he brought TK home after the kidnapping, the crippling headaches apparently not enough; he’s also been having nightmares that ruin what little sleep he manages to get.

(carlos has nightmares, too, but tk doesn’t need to know about those)

The last thing Carlos wants to do is crowd TK - he knows from past experience that he doesn’t appreciate the hovering - but every time he catches sight of the stitches, another bolt of fear flashes through him and the desire to keep TK close strengthens. He’d do anything if it meant his boyfriend didn’t have to go through any more pain.

When TK has begun to lie back against the pillows, still breathing carefully through his nose, Carlos fills a glass with water and takes it over. He places the glass on the coffee table and settles himself by TK’s legs, rubbing his side gently.

“Bad dream?” he asks quietly. At TK’s reluctant nod, he winces in sympathy. “I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault,” TK mumbles. His eyes flutter closed, but Carlos knows by the way his face is scrunched up that he probably won’t be getting any more sleep. He wants to ask if TK wants to talk about the dream, but the answer will be no. It always is, TK usually just saying that Carlos already knows what happened and there’s no point talking about it. Which is obviously untrue, but Carlos doesn’t want to force the issue, not while TK’s still physically healing.

“How’s the head?” he tries instead. “Does it hurt badly?”

TK hums. “It’s not great,” he admits, which is TK-speak for I’m in agony. “I don’t think moving so quickly did it any favours.”

“I can get you some Tylenol, if you want?”

TK hesitates, but eventually nods, which is testament to how shitty he must be feeling. Carlos immediately goes to grab the medicine, shaking a couple of pills into his hand before heading back into the front room.

“Here.” He squats down in front of TK and helps him into a seated position, ignoring his boyfriend’s protests.

“You’re starting to act like my dad,” TK jokes, swallowing down the pills.

Carlos laughs. “We’ve been swapping tips. Why else do you think he gave me his number?”

TK groans. “Great. My dad and my boyfriend ganging up on me - just what I need.” He glares as best as he’s able, though there’s no real heat behind it. “I thought you were supposed to be on my side.”

“We love you really.”

TK sniffs and allows Carlos to help him to lie down, his eyes closing as soon as he’s settled. Carlos stands to get back to his chores, but he doesn’t miss TK’s mumbled “Love you too,” that follows him as he goes.

iv.

He only leaves the kitchen for two minutes to grab something from upstairs, but two minutes is all it takes for him to hear a sharp yell of pain, followed by a loud clatter and muffled cursing. Carlos rushes down the stairs, instantly zeroing in on his boyfriend, who appears to be frozen, staring in shock at his hands.

Carlos frowns. Nothing appears to be amiss; the tray of cookies is maybe slightly to the left of where he left it, but other than that, everything seems fine.

Except for TK.

“Babe?” he calls. “Something wrong?”

TK startles, an almost guilty look on his face as he turns to Carlos. His hands drop, hiding behind his back in a way that has Carlos’s eyes narrowing in suspicion. He crosses the room quickly, gently pulling at TK’s wrists until he succeeds in revealing his hands, which have clear burns on them.

“Shit!” He practically drags TK to the sink, forcing his hands under the cold tap. “You should have done this straight away,” he scolds. “You of all people ought to know that, Mr Firefighter-Turned-Paramedic.”

“I know,” TK grumbles. He gives Carlos a sideways look, raising his eyebrows. “You can let go of me, you know.”

Carlos does, flushing slightly, then leans back against the counter, shaking his head at his boyfriend. “How did that even happen?”

The guilty look comes back on TK’s face and he studiously avoids Carlos’s gaze. “You’ll laugh at me.”

“I won’t,” Carlos says, though he’s already struggling to fulfil that promise. Now he knows that TK isn’t too injured, he can start to relax a little, and TK’s expression is doing little to quell his amusement at the situation.

TK sighs heavily, hanging his head. “I was just going to move the tray to make room for the second batch,” he explains quietly - almost too quiet for Carlos to hear. “Except I may have, ah, forgotten that it would still be hot. So.”

Carlos manages to keep a straight face for all of two seconds before he bursts out laughing, which is only fuelled by the indignant look on TK’s face.

“You promised!” he accuses, glaring.

“Sorry, love,” Carlos says, grinning. “At least you didn’t burn the food this time.”

The answering face full of water he receives is worth it.

Carlos should have known the call had gone too well to be true.

They’re just wrapping everything up when there’s a sudden commotion over by the ambulance, and he looks over to see Nancy shielding a patient while TK and Tommy attempt to hold another man back. He catches Mitchell’s attention and they sprint over, but they don’t get there before the guy breaks free, lashing out with his fist.

TK’s head snaps back and he staggers, blood instantly flowing from his nose. Carlos wants to go to him, but he knows he has to focus on his job; besides which, he’d probably just get in the way. He and Mitchell manage to subdue the guy before he can do any more harm, and Carlos hands him off to his partner, subtly inclining his head towards TK. She nods and leads the guy to their cruiser.

Carlos turns to Tommy, who is crouching down next to where TK’s sitting on the sidewalk. “What was that?” he asks, trying to divert his worry for now - not that he succeeds.

She scowls in the direction Mitchell took the attacker. “He blamed our patient for the accident,” she says. “Decided he would try and give him a couple more bruises, not that he needs them.”

Carlos looks over at the patient being tended to by Nancy. All things considered, he doesn’t look too bad, but he’s already started to bruise, and he’s sporting more than a few cuts. Carlos sighs, shaking his head.

“And TK?”

TK opens his mouth to respond, but Tommy answers before he can. “Your boy’s got himself a broken nose, by the looks of it. I don’t think it’s too bad, but I’m taking him to the hospital as a precaution anyway, plus it might need surgery. But he’ll be fine.”

He can’t help the relieved sigh that escapes him at the news. “Good. Thanks, Tommy. My shift is almost done; I’ll be at the hospital as soon as I can.”

“You guys realise I’m right here, don’t you?” TK complains, his voice coming out thick and nasally. “I might have a broken nose, but my ears work just fine.”

Carlos chuckles, sharing a fond smile with Tommy. “Glad to hear it, babe,” he comments drily. He leans down to kiss the top of TK’s head. “I’ll see you soon, keep me updated.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

He doesn’t know how it happens.

Just that, one second he’s facing down a suspect; the next, he’s flat on his back, a searing pain tearing through his side. Carlos sucks in a ragged breath, a harsh cough ripping from his throat. Mitchell is above him, her eyes wide and panicked as she speaks into her radio, but Carlos can’t hear what she’s saying, which would probably be more concerning if he could put thoughts together right now.

His eyes feel heavy and they start to close when the pain suddenly intensifies and they fly open again, Carlos gasping for air.

“Don’t you dare go to sleep on me, Reyes,” Mitchell growls, her voice sounding very far away. “Paramedics are here, they’re going to fix you up, you’re - Oh, shit.”

Carlos doesn’t need to wonder for long what caused her to break off; TK’s face soon replaces Mitchell’s, attempting to smile even as his eyes fill with tears. There’s a hand running through his hair, and Carlos leans into the touch, letting it soothe him. He starts to drift again, but he tries to force himself to stay awake.

“Hey, babe,” TK says wetly. “We’ve got you now, you’ve just gotta keep those pretty eyes open for me, can you do that?”

“Think...so…” Carlos manages, another round of coughing overwhelming him. TK holds him through it, his hand on the back of his head to prevent it from hitting the tarmac.

“That’s good.” TK turns to the side, then he’s back, securing an oxygen mask over Carlos’s face. He’s obviously trying to put on a brave face, but, even as out of it as he is, Carlos doesn’t miss the way his hands are shaking. He clumsily reaches up, almost slapping TK’s face in his drowsiness, but it’s worth it to see TK smile as he grips onto his hand. “You’re doing so good, baby, you’re going to be just fine.”

Carlos almost believes it, too.

Almost, because at that moment, the pain returns tenfold and he involuntarily arches off the ground, the air suddenly feeling very thin. Distantly, he can hear yelling, but the darkness is creeping in on him and, this time, he can’t do anything to fight it.

The next time Carlos wakes, it’s to harsh lights that threaten a headache and the feeling of another hand in his own. He groans, trying to shift away from the glare of the fluorescents, which is a decision he immediately regrets as pain flares in his side.

There’s movement next to the bed, and then gentle hands are on his face, stroking softly as Carlos breathes through the hurt.

“That’s it,” a quiet voice - TK’s, he realises - says. “You’re okay, I’m here, it’s okay.”

Carlos manages to squint his eyes open again and TK comes into view. He smiles tremulously. “Hi baby.”

“Hey,” Carlos rasps. “What happened?”

TK bites his lip, pulling back slightly. It’s then that Carlos notices his boyfriend is still in his uniform, and he frowns. “TK?”

“You were shot,” TK explains after a long moment, gingerly sinking down onto the edge of the bed. “I don’t know if you remember, but we were the responding crew and we - we almost lost you, Carlos.” He blinks, Carlos’s heart aching as tears slip down TK’s cheeks. He takes a shaky breath, then smiles down at him, a weak and forced thing. “But, you’re okay. We got you back, and according to the doctors, the surgery went well. You’ll be back on your feet in no time, I promise.”

Carlos swallows, a lump in his throat. “I’m sorry.”

TK shakes his head. “You didn’t ask to get shot, Carlos.”

“I’m sorry you were the ones to respond. That can’t have been easy for you.”

“It wasn’t. But…” TK sighs. “I think I prefer it than having to find out later. At least, this way, I got to be by your side the whole time, and I got to see you would be okay with my own eyes.” He grabs Carlos’s hand and lifts it to his lips, closing his eyes. A few more tears escape, and Carlos longs to wipe them away. “Just, please try and refrain from getting hurt again,” TK continues, eyes opening. “I’m not sure if I can take it.”

Carlos sends him an unimpressed look. “Bold words coming from you.”

TK stares at him, affronted, but it only lasts for a brief moment before he’s laughing. It’s a wet sound, filled with emotion, but Carlos thinks it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever heard. He has no doubt there’ll be plenty more injuries in their future, on both of their parts, but as long as they have each other, Carlos knows that they’ll get through it.

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belpheroo · 5 years ago

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Title: Pangs Pairing: Lucifer x F!MC Rating: 🍋 Summary: MC returns to Devildom for her second year. Following an “interesting” mishap with some fire newt syrup, MC checks in on the eldest brother who seemed unaffected by it. Notes: Basically just an… expanding of that scene. IT IS SOFT, EVERYTHING IS SOFT. Spoilers for lesson 21-22.

Her absence in the House of Lamentation had burned a hole of loss into each brother’s heart, but they were able to more freely express their sadness and their longing for her presence. As the eldest, Lucifer had to maintain decorum… he had to be stalwart and steady, unaffected and cool to soothe their hearts. Despite their bickering and their quips, Lucifer knew that when such pain came upon his younger brothers, they looked to him instinctively for comfort.

Lucifer would remind them of their D.D.D., of visits, of how she would one day come back, surely. He even resorted to teasing or dismissiveness to spike them on into annoyance with him or laughter. If even for a moment, it made them forget their loss.

Alone though? Alone, Lucifer would find himself staring in a daze, unable to focus upon his work in the late hours of the evening. His eyes would settle upon the edge of his desk, where a mug of hot coffee or soothing tea would have once appeared at some point in the night. He missed waking up to find a blanket had been settled over his shoulders, a snack or even once a morning tray with breakfast laid out on his desk...he missed waking up to her hand soothing through his hair, pretending to still be asleep even as his pulse sped up and his heart stuttered with a sharp pang.

In those quiet moments, when the witching hour was high and the House was filled with the silence of early morning, he remembered the sound of their voices together as they spoke of nothing, soft and low. They had always whispered, though they had no fear of waking anyone. It had been so natural, that intimacy… and Lucifer felt heartsick at the loss of it.

Diavolo had even become more troublesome, his palpable sympathy making Lucifer’s pride sting. He didn’t want sympathy, he wanted her back. But these were things he would never say, which was why only a few short months later when she fell through the air back into their lives with Solomon close behind, he felt the world go back into focus.

But of course, now there was that damned syrup.

---

It was easy enough for Lucifer to mask the effects of the soup, centuries of control and experience having perfected his outer defenses until the walls around his heart and his feelings were easily raised. She had made her way diligently around the House, relieving the brothers of their affliction with a simple order and now was set upon finding him.

Unlike the others, Lucifer could easily navigate their pact bond, feeling her intent and her searching and a vague notion of himself as the object of her search inside her emotions. Even from a distance he need only focus and seek out the invisible tether of their bond, the pact mark on his left wrist glowing faintly as he did so.

The only issue was, there was no privacy in this act. As soon as the mark on his own wrist glowed faintly red, hers would too, letting her know he was calling for her. He sent a “message” of his own along, letting his own intent that she should come to his office fall through the bond and feeling her emotions excite and change.

It wasn’t long before she showed up at his door, the very sight of her aggravating his condition and making heat threaten to flush across his face. Had she always been so enticing? She wore a lovely white dress, red and pink flowers adorning it. The only thing keeping the fabric in place was where the straps tied in a bow at the nape of her neck… one small pull and it would be so easily gone. Lucifer checked himself before his mind began to fully wander around the idea of what, if anything, she was wearing beneath it.

“The crisis is contained.” she declared with a grin, sauntering into the room with ease and familiarity. She closed the door behind her, the sudden privacy making his stomach flutter just slightly.

Lucifer got up from where he lounged in one of the plush red chairs, setting aside a book he hadn’t been even reading as he met her halfway. She clasped her hands behind her back, inclining her head expectantly. Lucifer knew what she was silently asking, but instead he smiled slyly.

“Now that you are here, we should complete your student processing… I’ll need to check you for dangerous items.”

She sputtered a laugh, looking down at her attire with a look that said loudly what she then vocalized, “Where would I hide them?”

“From what I recall, humans can be very crafty.”

“Then by all means.” she said, lifting her arms up, smiling and smiling. A foolish girl as always, taunting and tempting a man such as him. Lucifer had to steady himself before he reached out, starting at her wrists as he let his gloved fingertips slide down the length of her arms… tracing down from her shoulders to the top of her ribs before flattening his palms against her body to run down. The deep ache within him only grew more intense, but within his chest a dark creature rumbled with pleasure. Lucifer made sure none of this showed through his face, keeping his expression neutral and business like, even when he ran his hands down over the sides of her thighs and her arms faltered just slightly.

“You’re acting strangely, Lucifer.”

He hummed, his only reply as he pressed against the small of her back just briefly, nearly running down over her backside, but stopping just short before he let his hands fall to his side. She leaned forward just slightly, as if following the touch.

“Everything seems in order.” he said, “I just need you to sign these registration forms.”

She followed him obediently to his desk, which she leaned over, clearly not oblivious to how it revealed her neckline and the smooth round tops of her breasts as she pushed her arms together slightly and up.

“You got a pen?”

He produced one and absentmindedly she reached out, missing the pen and instead finding the one bare trace of skin above his glove but below his shirt sleeve. In a moment, all that control, all that restraint, snapped like a dry branch. Lucifer felt his body surge with heat, a groan escaping his throat as he jerked away from her touch.

“Be more careful… “

And just like that he could see the devious cogs of her brain starting to move as that bright smile turned into a smirk.

“So you are affected by the syrup.”

Lucifer sighed, “Of course, but I’m not as easily swayed as my brothers. I can resist the… the--”

“Urges?” she finished, turning away from the desk and stepping into his space, so close his overly sensitive skin could feel the heat of her radiating out towards him. Lucifer wasn’t sure when he let out a breath, only that it fell from his lips in a soft puff of air as he found himself unable to look away from her eyes, turned up to him, bright and adoring. She pursed her lips, soft and plush and pink… he wondered how many of his brothers had kissed those lips today, had embraced her or held her hand?

Unbidden, he cupped her cheek, thumb drawing down over her bottom lip gently. She ran her tongue out, licking him through his glove. Lucifer moved his hand to hold her by the neck, firm but gentle as he tipped her chin up.

“... give me an order… master.” he spoke lowly, voice a pitched growl.

“Kiss me, please, just ki—”

Her words were silenced in a gasp as Lucifer bit her lip, sucking gently before settling his own mouth, hot and needy over her own. All that waiting, the loneliness and the aching longing to see her again vanished in the kisses. His mouth trailed from hers, pressing open and hot to her jaw as he whispered, “... ever since you left the Devildom…”

Lucifer set his teeth on her neck, sucking hard until she let out a ragged moan.

“...not a day has gone by that I haven’t thought of you.” he said in-between his touches, laying his tongue flat over the red-purple mark he’d left behind. She clung to him, arms around his neck. There was a clatter of books, the wisp sounds of paper falling off the desk as Lucifer cleared the contents and set her upon it.

“I even considered going to the human world…” Lucifer murmured over her collarbone, kissing the tops of her breasts. She had pushed his jacket off his shoulders, fingers fumbling over buttons until she impatiently ripped them free, popping them off with a self-satisfied grin as her hands ran up and over his bare chest. Lucifer made a sound low in his throat, shoving the hem of her dress up around her waist and suddenly jerking her forward to the edge of the desk until he could feel the core of her against him.

“...to find you…” he groaned as she rolled against him, feeling the hardness of him straining in his pants. Her fingers sought out his belt as he spoke, “...to bring you back here.”

“Lucifer.” she moaned, pulling him free and holding him, hot and heavy in her hand. She barely managed a few strokes before he was batting her hand away, taking himself in his own hand and his other steading on her hip as he pressed up against her center, not yet taking but so close. So unbearably close.

“But never once did I imagine… you’d come back to me on your own.”

And with that Lucifer let himself sink into her, drawn in by her and held in welcome inviting heat. She kissed him this time, taking control as her legs locked around his waist and she thrusted her hips forward with a slow roll. Lucifer still didn’t move, locking his arms around her to keep her still, to let him enjoy the overwhelming closeness. He was vaguely aware that their bond marks were glowing, skin thrumming and humming with deep contentment… his and hers.

“... I love you. Truly and deeply.”

This was a time where she would make some joke, some light-hearted quip at his expense to earn his ire and spur him on… but she was so uncharacteristically quiet. Lucifer drew back slightly, enough to see her face and trace a loose strand of hair back over her ear. Her eyes were half-lidded, expression soft and dazed until she finally smiled… that sweet, precious smile just for him.

Her words were quiet, elevating the intimacy of the moment somehow in a way that made Lucifer feel his heart might simply stop, overwhelmed with such violent, intoxicating emotion.

“I’ve missed you so much,” she said, leaning forward to kiss him briefly and letting out a small gasp as Lucifer moved in a few small shallow thrusts, “I love you.” she breathed and then desperately, pleadingly panted out the words, “D-don’t stop.”

“As you wish, master.” Lucifer said, intent upon making this reunion one she’d never forget. They fit so easily together, like falling into an old memory. She helped slide the rest of his shirt off and Lucifer finally indulged that urge to tug free the tie around her neck and peel that dress down beneath her breasts.

“Lovely... every inch of you.” he said, words coming so easily between a rough groan as she ran her nails across his back. She giggled into his kiss, smiling against his lips. Each movement was so slow, so indulgent, except for when he’d sharply thrust forward, earning a string of pleased sounds from her with the sudden harshness. Lucifer could feel her tightening, coiling up ever closer, but even as she whimpered and squirmed and tried to force his pace faster, he kept the same steady rhythm. It was so much more pleasing to watch her rise toward her release, the skin of her neck and chest flushed pink as her arms tired and she lay back unto the cool surface of his desk, her fingertips finding her center.

Lucifer took the opportunity to rip off one of his gloves with his teeth, sliding his bare palm over her stomach and up her chest until he pressed it flat against her breastbone, holding her in place. She brought her other hand over his, holding tight as he braced her down and gave into her, wholly and completely.

She came apart so easily between her own touch and his, grasping unto his forearm for some steady port as waves of heat shuddered from her core and down her spine. Lucifer could feel the force of it clutching around him, pulling him and holding him in until he could only just barely ride out his own orgasm, feeling all at once the sort of heavenly lightness that brought him perhaps as close to the celestial realm as he’d ever been.

She was an endless well fo tenderness once she had composed herself, sitting up and eagerly touching and caressing every inch of skin she could reach, kisses peppered over his face and his lips as she made a point of keeping him from pulling out.

“Stay, it feels nice.” she said, wiggling her hips enough to make him jolt slightly from overstimulation. Lucifer clucked his tongue chidingly, but did not stop her.

“... you ruined my shirt.” he said, an observation more than a complaint as he noted a discarded button upon the desk.

“Mmmhm and you can punish me all night long.”

“That sounds more like a reward than a punishment.”

“Depends on how loud you make me scream.” she cooed, nuzzling against his neck with a self-satisfied smile. Lucifer could only chuckle to himself, at a loss as usual for how to win against such a creature. But for now, she was here and here to stay... there would be plenty of time to think on it.

#obey me fanfic #obey me lucifer #obey me lucifer x mc #obey me shall we date #obey me fanfiction #obey me #obey me lemon #i just wanted a nice soft pwp #its not the BEST but IT IS WHAT I WANTED #obey me mc

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fistsandfangs · 4 years ago

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ooooh okay 11 recovering from an illness/injury + T secret relationship + 34 “Is that blood?” pretty please ❤❤❤❤

i was immediately inspired by this and i hope it does your request justice! thank you lovely! x

READ ON AO3

If Alec were a different person, he wouldn’t be in this situation at all. It didn’t do any good to think such things, but he did.

If it weren’t for his secret relationship with Magnus Bane, the High Warlock of Brooklyn, he wouldn’t have been on his way to a clandestine dinner date on the other side of town. If he hadn’t been on his way across town for dinner, he wouldn’t have come across the pack of rabid hellhounds. And if he hadn’t come across the pack of rabid hellhounds, he would never have ended up leaning against the locked doors of Nightingale Towers bleeding profusely from a particularly deep wound in his side.

Fumbling for the call button with a blood-slick hand, he managed to press the one emblazoned with “PH1” in delicate gold print. For a few seconds, there was silence.

“Fuck,” Alec exhaled, swaying on his feet from the horrible combination of exhaustion and dizziness washing over him.

He hadn’t actually thought about what he would do if Magnus couldn’t help him; now it seemed totally idiotic not to have come up with a plan B. After all, to Magnus it must have appeared that Alec had stood him up only a week after an argument in which Magnus had accused him of being unwilling to make time for their relationship. If he ended up having to drag himself to the subway, he would only have thirty minutes to come up with a believable explanation as to why he had snuck out late in the evening without telling a soul to go to some dive in Queens.

Suddenly, Magnus’ voice crackled through the speaker. “Who is it?”

“Magnus, it’s me.”

A terse sigh echoed in the vestibule. “Is there something you want, shadowhunter?”

Even just shifting his weight to make for the door made Alec feel as though he very well might pass out. “Look, I know you’re pissed at me and maybe in a way I deserve it, but I—” The low whoosh of a portal opening interrupted him, materializing next to him. With the little bit of strength he could muster, Alec half-stepped, half-fell through it. His legs buckled beneath him when he landed on the pristine carpet of the loft, and he errantly hoped he hadn’t stained it.

“You couldn’t be bothered to call, yet you—” Magnus trailed off abruptly, and Alec forced himself to look up at him even as his vision swam. He looked disappointed. And angry. But once their eyes met, both dissipated to be replaced by shock. “Is that blood?”

Alec tried to answer but all that came out was some kind of incoherent murmur, and he felt his body tipping forward as the floor rushed up to meet him.

When next he opened his eyes, Magnus was leaning over him with a look of consternation as pale blue pulses of magic emanated from his palms. His necklaces spilled over Alec’s chest, a cold brush along his now bare sternum. “Hey,” he managed to rasp.

“Shh.” Magnus spared him only a glance, his gaze soft with sympathy that Alec almost felt guilty to be the intended recipient of. “You need to lie still for me, Alexander.”

He opened his mouth to protest, but ultimately held his tongue until Magnus had secured gauze over the raw but healing skin. “I’m sorry I missed our date. It wasn’t intentional; I swear on the Angel, Magnus.”

Pursing his lips, Magnus finally sat back and looked at him. Alec couldn’t swallow down the lump that rose in his throat at the sadness that softened his eyes and turned down the corners of his mouth.

From the first time he laid eyes on Brooklyn’s esteemed high warlock, Alec was enchanted. At first, it didn’t occur to him to be concerned that the man in question was a downworlder, that he was a man at all. It didn’t occur to him that this was someone with a reputation that preceded him, and spanned lifetimes. It didn’t even occur to him that he was the furthest thing from qualified to speak about feelings. All he knew was that his heart was beating hard enough that it might break his rib cage apart and he couldn’t care less so long as he didn’t have to look away just yet.

He should have known better than to think he could endeavor to have anything so exquisite.

“I was on my way to meet you when I got ambushed by rabid hellhounds. I tried to call you but the battery was dead, so it was all I could do to get here, to you. I’m sorry, Magnus, I didn’t know what else to do. Maybe I should have just—”

“I’m not mad that you missed dinner tonight,” Magnus cut him off softly. “I’m very glad you made it here in one piece. It certainly made my job easier. With some rest and being responsible about your activity, you’ll be good as new in a few days.” Standing up, he made for the drinks cart and skimmed his hands, caked in dried blood, over a few glass decanters before choosing one.

Alec hesitated for a moment, sitting up against the arm of the couch gingerly. “But you’re upset.” Magnus made no move to reply, instead downing three fingers of whiskey in one swallow and leaving the ice to clink against the bottom of the glass. “We don’t have to do this to each other, Magnus. I know that I started it, so maybe it’s my job to be the hypocrite. You take a step forward and I take a step back; you move to follow and I walk away. It…it fucking sucks.”

“God help me, I care for you. Very deeply, Alexander,” Magnus exhaled shakily.

“But I’m—”

“For better or worse, I lo—I feel inexorably connected to you,” he continued as though Alec hadn’t spoken at all. The taught lines of Magnus’ back made appear as a man made of marble. And he felt just as unreachable to Alec. “And this is what you are. Being a shadowhunter will always be your priority, and I respect that you have made your decision to continue down that path, but it’s not one where I can follow alongside you. I can’t be happy only seeing you when a lie is convenient and buys you some time, or when you’re beaten half to death and I’m left with your blood on my hands. I very well might love you, angel, and in another life maybe it would be enough, but we don’t have the luxury of a simple solution.”

Feeling his throat start to close as he fought back tears, Alec forced himself to his feet and took a few steps towards Magnus. His hands, always so steady whether they wielded a blade or an arrow, or grew mottled with bruises blooming dark beneath his skin, were now trembling and there was nothing he could do to stop. It felt as though he were walking towards the precipice of a vast chasm that was ready to swallow him whole, and the longer Magnus’ words hung over them like a dark cloud, the closer he got to falling in head first.

“I was scared,” Alec blurted out. It wasn’t exactly where he had intended to start, but at this point, it hardly mattered. “I was scared that if I made room for someone in my life, in my…in my heart too, that then what I’ve been running from for so long would catch up to ruin everything. I’ve never been as close to happy as I am with you, and I know the minute I let this become anything more than some kind of stupidly perfect life I’ve built up in my head, it wouldn’t be safe anymore. That’s something I should have been honest with you about, though, and I see that now. I—I’m sorry.”

“Alec—”

Holding up a hand, he continued. “If I don’t say all of this now, I’m going to lose my nerve and I don’t know if I could live with the consequences. Look, Magnus, you were right to be frustrated with me, and I’m mad at myself too. But if it’s not too late, if you can still find it in your heart to give me a chance to make this right, I would do anything to deserve it.”

For a few agonizing moments, Magnus expression was unreadable. And then he spoke.

“I hear relationships take effort.”

Alec inclined his head slightly, a tentative smile starting to play at his lips. “I’m all for effort.”

>> PROMPT LIST

#cuubism #malec #shfanficnexus #bytheangell #sharona1x2 #thatnerdemeryn #shadowhunters #alec lightwood #magnus bane #otp: we always seem to find our way back to each other #mywriting

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the-mirror-witch · 4 years ago

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hello! I see you accepted new requests so may I ask for a headcanon/scenario (whichever you prefer!) with the dorm leaders where they see their short s/o wearing their clothes then run away? something like "If you want your clothes back then come and get it~" thank you<3

(Tooo Cuuuutttteeee! 💖💖 I love thiiiisssss!!!!)

Riddle Rosehearts:

Riddle was fuming, marching through the Heartslabyul like a man on a warpath. Students were ducking out of the way the moment they saw the shade of red on their dorm leader’s face.

Why was Riddle so angry on what was otherwise a beautiful day? Knowing Riddle, it could have been for any number of reasons. Perhaps Ace had done something mind-numbingly stupid or Cater had posted embarrassing pictures on his Magicam. As it turns out, it was none of these things.

The true reason was that it was nearly time for the Unbirthday Party, and Riddle couldn’t find his dorm leader cape anywhere.

He at first suspected Ace and Deuce of pulling an ill-timed prank on him by hiding his esteemed uniform. They pleaded ignorance, but he still used his unique magic on them just for good measure.

If Riddle didn’t find his cape soon, he was going to blow up like a boiling tea kettle.

He happened to pass by one of the open dorm rooms (he would have to yell at the occupants later. Rule #254 stated that the dorm rooms were to be kept locked when not under inspection) and lo and behold, who should he find standing there in front of a mirror, giggling like a child wrapped up in his cape?

Yes, you, Riddle’s darling rose, where the culprit behind this entire fiasco. You may owe Heartslabyul an apology after this. But you simply couldn’t resist yourself when you found Riddle’s cape just lying on his bed. You had ever intention of returning it before Riddle could miss it, but got so caught up in the way the cape enveloped you that you lost track of time.

It also distinctly smelled like strawberries, like a certain redhead you were rather fond of.

The moment Riddle saw you, his face turned red for entirely different reasons.

The silent moment was short-lived when you noticed Riddle in the mirror, giving you quite a start. You whirled around and Riddle cleared his throat, insisting that return his cape to him.

He should have known by the evil glint in your eye that it would not be that easy.

So, Heartslabyul was treated to the sight of its dorm leader chasing you down the halls as you laughed like a madman.

Worry not, Cater got plenty of blackmail pictures to share with you later.

Leona Kingscholar:

Poor Ruggie really does get the short end of the bone sometimes, doesn’t he?

But what else was he supposed to do? His giant cat of a dorm leader was too lazy to do his own damn laundry, so Ruggie as Leona’s un-official babysitter had to do it for him.

You were visiting Savanaclaw, something you did on a near daily basis. You happened to stumble upon the disgruntled hyena and, in a moment of sympathy, decided to offer your assistance.

Your offer was happily accepted.

The two of you finished the laundry in a timely manner. You were rather pleased with yourself as you admired how nice, warm, and clean you made Leona’s shirt.

Then temptation hit you like a rhino. Should you? Yes, yes you should.

Before you could second guess yourself, you quickly slipped on Leona’s shirt after making sure Ruggie wasn’t looking at you. You’d never live it down otherwise.

It was so nice and warm, it reminded you of being cuddled by the lion himself. Such thoughts made you feel rather sleepy. It made you keep the shirt on just another second longer.

That second was all that was needed.

Leona was in a rather grumpy mood (when wasn’t he, tho?). You, little herbivore, were late for your routine napping session. Leona wasn’t one to normally give a flying damn about routine and timelines, but this was rather uncharacteristic of you.

What was he left to do but to hunt you down himself?

That was how he came to find you, wearing his shirt like you belonged in it.

The smug lion came up behind you, smirking and asking just what were you thinking, wearing his shirt like that?

You froze up, unsure what you should say. When Leona smirked at you like that, there was no telling what could happen, and you beginning to get nervous. Well, you know what they say? Fake it till you make it.

So, you boldly looked up at him, and claimed it was your shirt now. Finders, keepers, and all that jazz.

Leona was greatly amused, and damn him if confidence wasn’t a good look on you.

However, Leona simply couldn’t back down from your challenge. You heard the growl rumbling deep in his chest and without a second thought took off running. You had no doubt that the King of Beasts was hot on your heels.

Azul Ashengrotto:

The lights of the Mostro Lounge were dimmed, allowing the reflection of rippling water to become more prominent. It was very atmospheric, and allowed for everyones attention to be on the main performance of the night.

It was rare for Azul to give a performance at the Lounge, so each occurrence was a privilege. In this case, it was the Lounge’s anniversary. The entire night had been a special one, with rare additions to the menu and discounts and promised prizes that kept the Lounge booked weeks in advance.

The twins had kept the guests entertained for the majority of the evening, and now it was Azul’s turn. And you, lucky little angelfish, got a front row seat.

No eyes were off of Azul as he played the piano. If the twins were to be believed, Azul was playing an ancient merman song, from the times when the Seafolk would lure unsuspecting sailors to their doom through their enchanting voices alone. Given the twins’ affinity to messing with people, you normally took their tales with a grain of salt.

This time, however, you were inclined to believe them. There was some sort of alluring magic within the notes of Azul’s song, there had to be. It demanded attention and refused to relinquish it. You could practically smell the salt of sea wind and see the rise of ocean waves with each crescendo. You were spellbound. You imagined that, if Azul told you to throw yourself into bone-shattering waves, you’d reply with “Yes please.”

And from the glazed eyes of the other guests, you knew you weren’t alone.

You weren’t entirely sure what force pushed you to stand from your seat. Perhaps you truly were entrapped by Azul’s siren call. Perhaps there was an ugly part of you that bristled at the many eyes trained on the silver haired man. Whatever the reason, you moved through the mist that had settled under the lounge. Azul’s song was coming to an end. He noticed your approach, raising an eyebrow but not once stopping the movement of his fingers. It never ceased to amaze you how well coordinated he could be, despite being a literal fish out of water. Perhaps it was from years of simultaneously using ten limbs.

The song reached its final crescendo as you came to stand beside Azul. The final wave, preparing to crash down on the battered shore.

The wave came crashing down as you grabbed the hat off of Azul’s head, putting it on your own. You cut off Azul’s protest with a swift kiss, as gentle as the cold spray of the sea. As the guests of the lounge applauded, you stepped down and left Azul sitting there wide-eyed and blushing furiously.

You made your escape to the underwater hallways of Octavinelle, passing by the snickering twins as you did. You weren’t entirely sure if Azul would chase after you or not to get his hat back, but it didn’t matter either way to you. Your brain hadn’t quite caught up to your bold actions. There was a part of you that was still blissfully lost at sea.

Kalim Al-Asim:

It was late in the evening, with the half-faced moon looming over the Arabian night, and the party showed no sign of slowing down.

Kalim had his misgivings, but he sure as hell knew how to throw a party. Even though it was undisputed that Kalim was the life of the party, with everything gravitating around him like brilliant sun that he was, he had the strange ability to make it feel as if the party was centered around you.

Sometimes you felt guilty about stealing away Kalim’s attentions from everyone else, but then Kalim would give you that brilliant smile of his, reminding you that you were his guest of honor and it was only natural that he made sure you had the best night of your life. Well, who were you to argue with that?

You spent a great deal of the night dancing with Kalim. Your lungs burned and legs ached, but those things seemed to disappear into the wind, scattered by Kalim’s breathless yet exuberant laughter. His joy was infectious, filling your veins with sunshine and warmth as you laughed too.

Could a moment truly last forever? You wished that it would. This moment was perfect, as you spun around in Kalim’s arms, your feet feather-light and a feeling of weightlessness washing over you. It was all too easy to forget that there were other people around. Their presence faded into little more than background noise, leaving nothing but you, Kalim, and the lively music that sang in your bones, flowing easily from your body to Kalim’s and back again as you moved in time with one another.

You hadn’t drunk anything alcoholic that night, but Godmother save you if you didn’t feel drunk. You were light-headed and wonderfully happy. You were in a whole new world, one just for you and Kalim. Perhaps this feeling wouldn’t carry over into tomorrow, perhaps you had this one night alone. If that was the case, you were sure as hell going to make it last a lifetime.

You didn’t know when it happened, but at some point in the night you had managed to steal Kalim’s half-turban right off his head and had it hanging loosely around your neck. The jewels that decorated it clanked every time you moved, and it was a wonder you hadn’t noticed it before.

Well, Kalim had yet to point it out, so he either didn’t notice or didn’t care. Either way, if he wasn’t going to bring it up, then you weren’t about to. Thus, your unintentional thievery was completed.

The dance ended and you finally managed to drag yourself away from Kalim long enough to get yourself some much needed refreshment.

Kalim truly hadn’t noticed that you had taken his turban until its absence was pointed out by Jamil. It didn’t take long for either of them to spot it hanging around your neck from where you stood across the crowd.

Kalim happily took it as an excuse to pull you into another dance.

Jamil let out a long, suffering sigh. The two of you were hopeless.

Vil Schoenheit:

Confession time. You might have, sort of stolen Vil’s crown. Um...oops?

In your defense, Epel had dared you do it. He had deliberately chosen the dare, knowing no one in their right mind would attempt to steal from Pomefiore’s queen. Not unless they were Rook, or you apparently.

Besides, how mad could Vil be? (Mad, very mad, you could practically taste the poison already, Epel was going to get you killed how could he do this to you he knew your impulse control was non-existent-)

Well, what done was done, and you proudly showed off your prize to your dumbfounded friends. In full honesty, they hadn’t expected you to go through with it. Now that you had the crown, why not take full advantage of it.

You took plenty of pictures of you wearing it. Epel gave on heck of a Vil impression while wearing it. All in all, you had a roaringly good time and nearly forgot that you had stolen the crown in the first place. Unbeknownst to you, a certain hunter found you with the crown in your possession and, with a cruel smile, slunk back into the shadows to relay his findings to his enraged queen.

It didn't take long for Vil to arrive, amethyst eyes burning like gemstones that had fires trapped within them. You felt like a meek little mouse under Vil’s glare. One look towards Epel and you could practically see the “oh shit” reflected in his eyes.

Vil held out his hand, a silent demand for you to return his property and accept your punishment.

Welp, your grave was already dug out. Why not go a little deeper? Or perhaps that was the panic trying to rationalize your truly idiotic potato move.

You ran for dear life, dragging poor Epel with you. If you were going down, he was going with you.

You didn’t get far. Damn that hunter.

You and your partner in crime were caught, and the crown returned to the head of its rightful queen.

Vil smirked down at you, a gloved hand stroking your cheek.

There was something befitting about a crown on your head. After all, he expected the person who would stand beside him to be just as well-adorned as he was. Perhaps he should look into getting you a crown of your own.

Idia Shroud:

Welp, Idia was lost to the realm of campaigns and RPG's. Again. Not that you were particularly surprised. Idia spent a lot of time either online or working on some high-tech invention, and would probably never see the light of day if you and Ortho didn’t drag him outside.

You fully supported Idia’s interests and his hobbies, but you couldn’t help but feel a little lonely while you sat in his room and waited for him to finish and finally spend some time with you.

You flopped down on his bed, pouting. Maybe you should get up and explore the Ignihyde dorm. You didn’t get to see enough of it, and as the most technologically advanced dorm in the college, it should be a sight to behold. Perhaps you could even met another one of the dorms reclusive members before they ran away screaming at the prospect of human interaction.

Making up your mind, you got up and your hand brushed against one of Idia’s hoodies, which was lying haphazardly off the side of his bed. You thought about it for all of one second before putting it one, the hoodie practically swallowing your entire body. You giggled. With how much Idia slouched over, it was easy to forget just how much taller he was compared to you.

Now properly dressed for your impromptu adventure, you walked out of Idia’s room and went exploring.

Soon after, Idia finished his game, cheering in victory as he won. He pulled his headset off and stretched his back. That’s when he noticed that you were gone and he immediately spiraled into a panic. Where had you gone? You normally waited around for him to finish so that you could spend time together.

Had you finally gotten sick and tired of him? Has he finally driven you away with his anti-social behavior? Had he just epically failed your route and received a bad ending???? NOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!

Ortho found his brother in the middle of an otaku level meltdown and calmed him down, telling him that he had just seen you walking around the dorm.

Ortho encouraged his brother to go looking for you himself to show you that he noticed your absence, and Idia in his still distraught state agreed without hesitation.

Ortho “accidentally” forgot to mention what it was you were wearing. Idia was very underprepared.

When Idia saw you wearing talking to another Ignihyde student while wearing his hoodie, his face instantly turned red. Why were you so cute, wearing his hoodie like that? Didn’t you know how dangerous for his health that was?

You didn’t know why Idia was supporting himself with one hand against the wall and another clutching his chest, but Ortho assured you it wasn’t a bad thing.

Malleus Draconia:

You had gone to the Diasomnia dorm to visit Malleus. It was something you did regularly and should come as a surprise to no one, yet Sebek still insisted on giving you grief about showing up unannounced.

Ignoring him, you asked Lilia where Malleus was, and the amused bat told you that Malleus was busy at the moment. Before you could become disheartened and leave, Lilia informed you with a knowing smile that Malleus wouldn’t be much longer now and you could simply wait for him in his room.

Once again in good spirits, you thank the ancient Fae and did just that.

Only, now that you were in Malleus’s room, you weren’t quite sure what to do with yourself. It was the first time you had ever been in Malleus room, and you found yourself simultaneously fascinated and awkward. Would it be okay for you to sit on his bed? Perhaps you should play it safe and just sit on the floor like a goblin. Would he get mad if you snooped through his things? Well, he might not, but Sebek sure as hell would.

Eventually, boredom got the best of you. So, you went through Malleus’s closet. You were a terrible person, okay, it’s been acknowledged let's move on to the raiding.

You pulled out one of Malleus’s cloaks, a black one (shocker). You wrapped it around yourself, and it was so large it might as well have been a blanket on you with the way it pooled at your feet. You always knew that Malleus was unfairly taller than you, but being wrapped in his cloak like this made you feel oh, so small.

You weren’t going to acknowledge how the cloak smelled like Malleus, like cinder and the evening woods. Nope, nada. If you did, you would be red-faced for the rest of the evening and there was no way Malleus wouldn’t notice.

You were just about to unwrap yourself from Malleus’s cloak when the door opened, Malleus entering and being unwillingly escorted by the ever insistent Sebek.

Malleus stared at you in his cloak with wide, green eyes. Meanwhile, Sebek got personally offended.

How dare a human such as yourself dirty Lord Malleus’s attire with your stench?!?!?!?!?!?!

In the end, Sebek ended up chasing you around trying to get the cloak back and you ran with a speed you didn’t even know you possessed.

Malleus was still stunned for several moments, but he eventually got enough presence of mind to order Sebek to leave you be.

Still, after that incident, you couldn’t help but notice how, during your evening walk with the future King of Thorns, Malleus every excuse to wrap you up in the cloak he was wearing.

Not that you would complain, as you happily pulled the cloak tighter around you.

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst x reader #asks answered #twisted wonderland x reader #dorm leaders

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